#i used to always just reverse dog ear the pages i like maybe i should go back to doing that…….

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i have this severe sickness in my soul that has me trying to annotate my books while reading only for that to overwhelm and stress me out so badly that i end up closing the book and never opening it again . and frankly it’s ruining my life

[hopetorun]

7, 10, 15, 18 please!

7. answered

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

a lot of writing sticks with me tbh! obviously i have now forgotten all of it due to being asked* but a few things that tend to leave me thinking about something constantly for days: a wrenching bittersweet ending where the protagonist is stuck with only imperfect choices, a scene where it’s so so clear what the non-pov character is going through and the pov character is totally missing it, really good metaphors especially ones involving bodies, great closing lines.

i consider something to be haunting me when i can’t get it out of my head! but i don’t really feel that way about my own stories because that’s so different. i cannot articulate it but it is.

*see previous response to this meme with a note about how i should be better at keeping track of snippets that stick with me

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

i wish i was a person who wrote in the margins but i very much am not, mostly because i get too distracted reading to take notes. i do sometimes scribble stuff in my notes app for book club books so i don’t forget my thoughts but not always. i don’t dog ear pages but i do read in the bath and i also read while eating and stain my books with food. i therefore cannot judge people who deface books in other ways, and would not want to. books are meant to be read and loved and used. my cheeto-fingerprinted copy of little women and my baby blanket that i slept with until it was literally just scraps of thread and the handmade quilt my uncle had on his bed until he died that was worn to bits are the same, actually. we are meant to use these things and love them and that’s its own way of treasuring a thing. if any one person wants to treasure their books by keeping them pristine that’s fine but i treasure mine by loving them to pieces and having to buy a whole new copy to love to pieces again. and covering them in cheese dust fingerprints

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

from home by now:

It works for Matthew, and it’s the most comfortable he’s felt around Draisaitl in literally years. Maybe since they collapsed from the shower onto a hotel bed in Edmonton during the playoff bubble, wrung out and relaxed and extremely pleased with themselves.

“I thought that was going to be hot when you suggested but I didn’t realize how hot it would be,” Matthew said in that hotel room. Leon dropped a hand heavily on his ass, patting him twice and then letting it rest there.

“We’re going to be out soon,” he said. Matthew couldn’t argue with him; the Oilers had been thoroughly outclassed in their first three games, and he didn’t think they were going to pull off a reverse sweep. “We can maybe win one but I doubt more than that will happen.”

Matthew nodded. “Sorry,” he said.

“You’re not,” Leon said, but he laughed roughly.

“Not very.” Matthew shrugged. “I’ll miss this.” He regretted saying it as soon as the words left his mouth, but Leon seemed unfazed. If anything, he smiled faintly.

“Won’t miss having to sneak around whenever I want to do anything but watch TV in my room.”

There wasn’t a good answer to that; Matthew was willing to put up with it for hockey, but Leon was about to be on a plane back home. He shrugged, and a silence fell around them that felt heavy. Leon’s hand was still resting on his ass.

They were in Leon’s hotel. Matthew needed to leave soon, if he was going to be able to sneak back in and get enough sleep. It felt like breaking the moment would break something important.

Matthew did it anyway. He rolled himself out of the bed, patted Leon on the shoulder a couple of times and grabbed a towel from the bathroom to throw at him.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” he said before he opened the door. Leon grunted, and the noise was almost like one he made on the ice sometimes. Made it easier for Matthew to slip him back into the Draisaitl box, smirking at him from across the ice, looking terrible in orange.

In the present, he’s still Draisaitl, but somehow more comfortable than a few weeks ago. His shoulders are relaxed, which is probably the alcohol, and he’s not walking like he wants to leave Matthew in the dust.

Matthew didn’t think—well, he isn’t sure what he thought, anymore. He thought Draisaitl hated him, and then he thought Draisaitl liked him, and then everything got muddled for a while, with the playoffs and then Matthew’s concussion making everything worse and hazier. At the end of it he thought Draisaitl hated him, but differently than the first time. It felt like—like something changed. Like there was a different thread underlying the way that Draisaitl shoved him and whispered insults and generally refused to look at Matthew at all off the ice after everything that happened.

Above them, the moon is still high in the sky. It’s almost full, a sliver missing off the perfect circle.

“Full moon soon,” Matthew says, because he doesn’t like the silence.

thank you for your submission and for not making me pick 😂😂 excited to get to talk a bit about the sex scene flashbacks, some of the first bits of this story i wrote! i had all these scraps of them tucked at the bottom of my google doc waiting for the right place to fit into the story. early on in the writing process i did a bunch of sketching out timelines of the bubble playoffs and how many days they were both in edmonton and how many times i realistically thought they might have hooked up. it was not many at all, btw. but i stuck to it.

the line about the concussion was a fairly late add, because my trusty alpha and beta readers did tell me i needed to seed it better. it still has that like, oh you weren’t here all along feeling to me! even though i know that’s not how it works for readers.

i didn’t look up whether there’ll be a full moon around the right time in the summer of 2026 for this scene. which is weird for me because i normally look that kind of thing up (huge shoutout to my best friend time and date dot com) but i wanted the moon to be almost full so it is. why do i always look this kind of thing up? well i like to be accurate or at least plausible in descriptions of weather and seasonal changes and when it’s dark outside but also i once read a book where the sun came up before 7 am in scotland in late december and i shrieked aloud.

[eloves-writes]

stormy weather

[spencer reid x reader]

summary : reader doesn’t like flying in a storm & spencer distracts them

a/n : i wrote this whilst tipsy at a family bbq, talk about queen of socialising‼️ this talks about macbeth a bit & i’m sorry if that bores you lol the first draft of this had a huge long section of reader & reid discussing lady macbeth’s character development but i figured no one would actually want to read that💀 anyways hope you enjoy, requests open as always!

couple - spencer reid x gender neutral reader

content warnings - m*cbeth😩

——————————

“did you know that flying in a thunderstorm is no more or less unsafe than flying in good weather, since most modern airplanes are built to withstand lightning strikes and harsh wind and rain, what’s interesting is-”

“reid, i swear to god,” emily complained from the seat opposite him.

the boy genius stopped his ramblings. “what?”

“emily’s far too busy for your science lessons today i think, spence,” you joked, looking up from your book.

as you spoke, lightning cracked somewhere in the distance, flashing through the jet’s windows. you involuntarily flinched, off-set by the sudden light.

“woah,” morgan remarked. “you sure about that science spiel, reid? that was pretty intense.”

“don’t set him off again,” prentiss moaned. “you’re a little jumpy today though, y/n.”

“i’m not jumpy,” you replied monotonously, not looking up from your reading this time.

“you sound like hotch,” rossi teased. that, of course, set off a not uncommon round of crude impressions of the team members. hotch glanced up disapprovingly but chuckled under his breath at emily and reid’s version of a morgan and garcia phone call. the jest was interrupted by another loud crack of lightning amongst the ignored rumbles of heavying thunder. you flinched again.

“you are scared, aren’t you y/l/n?” morgan inquired. he wasn’t trying to belittle you, but you were embarrassed nonetheless. it wasn’t like no one else on the team had seemingly childish fears; reid was scared of the dark, but everyone did take the piss out of him for it.

“i’m not scared!” you exclaimed stubbornly. “but, for unrelated reasons, i’m going to go and take a nap until we land.” you dog-eared the page of your book and placed it on the table before getting up to relocate to the jet couch. spencer picked up your book and began to inspect it; a harmless habit he had of being constantly interested in other people’s literature choices. sometimes he offered meaningless insight to the hidden metaphors of the story, or accidentally spoiled the plot before you could finish it yourself. you thought it was quite sweet really. today, you were re-reading macbeth- perhaps an odd choice for a bit of light reading as emily so often told you. admittedly, you were a fan of shakespeare’s work since you studied it for your linguistics degree.

you comfied yourself on the couch, curling up with a pillow under your head. you doubted you’d actually be able to sleep with all the noise of the storm but it was worth a try (and a break from the incessant chatter of the team). only a few minutes passed as you lay listening to the on pour of rain on the roof and distant thunder; the white noise in itself was quite relaxing, but the remembrance of flying through the tempest wasn’t so. it felt like it had been much longer than it had and you willed the time to pass sooner so you could get your feet onto some solid ground.

“heyy,” spencer purred, sitting at your feet with your book in his hands.

“hey,” you replied. “reading my book?”

“i was reading your annotations actually,” he smiled. you liked to take a biro to the margins of your books, but it was more for your own enjoyment of the story than for other people’s eyes. “i generally don’t approve of the defacing of classic literature, however you have some really interesting comments on the nature of the gender role reversal in the play. see here, act 2 scene 2, ‘my hands are of your colour but i shame to wear a heart so white’ you wrote that lady macbeth is calling him a coward. well, you didn’t write coward-”

“i wrote pussy,” you smirked.

he smiled back awkwardly. “yeah, you did. you also wrote lady macbeth is a ���girlboss’, i’m not entirely sure what that means.”

“my notes aren’t exactly of academic standard.”

“content wise, i would have to disagree. i forget how smart you are sometimes.”

“smarter than you, dr know-it-all?”

“in some fields i’m sure. you should use that brain more in the field instead of messing around with emily.”

“mmm, i’m good on the messing around with prentiss but maybe i should offer some more of my,” -you gestured dramatically- “profound intelligence.”

spencer laughed, tucking his slightly-too-long hair behind his ear. “well if we ever need an analysis on lady macbeth’s ‘girlboss energy’ i’ll know who to call.”

“you sure will. so then doctor, macbeth- victim or villain?”

you sparked up an enthusiastic discussion about the writing, forgetting completely about the raging storm that had bothered you so much earlier. the conversation lasted the whole rest of the flight, spencer’s mission of helping you through it very much achieved. you somehow hadn’t clocked on that he only came over to distract you, despite the fact that he frequently slated shakespeare’s writing. to him, it was worth talking about even the most terrible book in the world if it meant he was talking to you. he felt a burning sense of pride for making you smile, catalysing the fire in his heart. of all the knowledge in his head, the knowledge that he had single-handedly made you feel just the tiniest bit better was all the knowledge the young doctor ever really wanted.

[thosewickedlovelies]

Into the Woods: chapter 2  |  Frankie Morales x GN!Reader

Summary: Instagram stalking ensues. Will you run into Frankie again?

Tags: no warnings AGAIN this is weird for me too but as mentioned I do have some smut planned for these two if anyone needs more incentive to read lmfao

Word Count: 2,783

A/N: As always, endless love to @yoditorian for this idea and her supervision of my writing about a social media platform I do not use 💗💚💗

Backstory / chap 1 /

---

Later that night, Frankie sits at his desk, poring over maps both digital and physical. Where could you live to have traveled to the same point in the forest as him within a day? He’s hiked along the edge of his side of the woods, and knows that unless he’s missed some major construction, you can’t be there. So now he studies the other side of the treeline, looking at the closeness of the towns, any tiny side roads that could lead to individual houses like his own. But his frustration is growing.

There aren’t any. Not any within feasible walking distance, at least. And you hadn’t been grubby enough to have been camping. Frankie frowns, tracing the small highway which cuts through the forest. There, not far from the turnoff to his home, was a parking lot at the start of a web of trails through the woodland. If you started there and completely ignored the predetermined paths, heading a course straight for the pond...

“Huh,” Frankie murmurs. It wasn’t much further of a hike than his own. So that means you don’t live within walking distance- he shakes off an odd twinge of disappointment at that- but he does have an idea of your hiking range, if he felt like trying to seek you out.

He shakes his head. Don’t be weird. That was something Santiago might do- deliberately roam where he knew you regularly went in order to find you again. Frankie isn’t nearly so forward. His style is slower, less aggressive. What he’s already planning is his next cooking trip to the pond. Plants need water, and you forage for plants- he figures it’s a likely spot to run into you a second time.

Frankie hadn’t spoken to you again after you’d parted today. Only caught glimpses of you through the trees, from where he had dutifully remained by his fire. But at some point between the twisting of the campfire smoke from one way to another you had vanished, and not long after, Oso had returned to him, flopping down on her side with a satisfied huff.

He snorted. “Well, I’m glad you got to make a new friend.” Frankie rubbed her belly with only a little jealousy.

Now, feeling restless, he decides to upload the pictures he took today. He’s almost immediately distracted, however, by a string of likes from a new follower- concluding with a familiar photo of Oso and Gloriana. A prickle of excitement runs through him at a reference to foraging in the username. No way.

Frankie leans forward in his seat, straining for a closer look at the profile picture. A grin spreads across his face when the page finally loads.

It’s you. You, mid-laugh, perched comfortably up on a sturdy tree branch. He quickly scrolls down to confirm; but this is definitely you. Lots of photos of plants, and woodland that looks remarkably familiar. Your bare feet in a stream. A busy street at afarmer’s market, you smiling with a stall owner.

Frankie laughs out loud at the sheer absurdity of it. Here he was, worried about coming off as a mega-creep, and you’ve already shamelessly checked him out on instagram. He’s never hit ‘Follow Back’ so fast in his life.

--

You try to quash the squirmy anticipation in your belly as you pull on your pack, organizing yourself for the walk ahead. There’s no reason to get excited, you scold yourself. Even if you do see Frankie again, you still don’t really know anything about him.

You’d tried to stalk him online, but there wasn’t much information to go off of from his instagram photos. The pictures themselves spoke volumes, though. You’d always thought you could tell a little something of people’s personalities from what they posted, especially from pictures with their friends. Frankie’s main group of friends had a certain look about them- military maybe, a sort of cocky surety in their posturing. Despite this, they’re often grinning in candid moments, a relaxed, unself-conscious affection between the men which endeared them to you. Them, and Frankie. It’s a shame he doesn’t post more photos of himself. You recall again the sight of him in the woods, shafts of sunlight striking his expressive features, illuminating his kind smile and earthen eyes.

Then you shake your head. Too much time alone with your ever-churning thoughts have you romanticizing your meeting, when in reality you have no reason to expect to run into him again. He’d said he was out there all the time, but you’d never spotted evidence of any fires, or of a giant dog gallivanting around the place. Maybe he didn’t mean the pond specifically, but the forest in general.

“Argh!” Looking around, you stomp your foot in frustration. In your distraction, your walking pace had slowed, and you weren’t as far along in your hike as you should have been. Resolving to focus on your surroundings (because you won’t see Frankie again if you don’t get to the pond in good time), you splash some water on your face to refresh yourself and stride onward.

As you get closer to your pond, you slow down again, this time deliberately. All your senses strain for any sign of Frankie, but you don’t hear or see anything out of the ordinary. Then you smell it.

Smoke.

For a moment you panic. Is it wildfire season? Can you run away from a forest fire? Who do you call for this??

Then you smell something else- something familiar and edible- and you nearly pop yourself in the forehead. Of course you smell smoke, you idiot. What did Frankie say he did out here?? Cooked. You were literally just thinking about his instagram.

What is that smell? You have got to see this.

You step carefully to avoid making too much noise in the brush. Now that you’re looking for it, the gray haze of campfire smoke is obvious as it drifts through the trees. You give its source a wide berth, hoping for a chance to observe Frankie without him knowing.

Your wish is granted. You’ve come at him from the side, and now have an excellent view of his profile, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he stirs something in the heavy-looking pan in front of him. After a minute he looks satisfied, and retrieves the pan’s lid from behind him, arcing his arm carefully over the flames as he places it. Frankie sits back, a gusty sigh blowing from his lips.  As you watch, he tosses his cap to the side, running his hands through loose curls and scratching his fingers across his scalp. You bite your lip in a smile at the sight of his moment of self-indulgence.

You scan Frankie’s setup and the area around him, searching for-

“Ruff!” The dog you were looking for crashes through the bushes beside you, and you yelp in surprise, automatically stooping to soothe her.

Dammit, how does such a large animal keep sneaking up on you?

“Oso?” Frankie calls. He’s standing now, still hatless, a few steps closer to you than where he’d been sitting. He glances uncertainly between the fire and your approximate location. You hear him try your name next.

You swear quietly. “No, not you,” you add to Oso.

“It’s me,” you reply, straightening. “Sorry, Oso got me again.”

The pleased, upward tilt of his lips reverses as he shakes a stern finger at his dog, whose ears perk happily at all the attention. “What did I tell you? No more accosting strangers!” he scolds, though he doesn’t sound the least bit upset.

With a expectant glance at you, Oso trots back over to him. Frankie ruffles her ears, definitively undermining any negative impact his words might have had. You regard each other tentatively.

“Hi,” you say lamely.

His face crinkles back up into a smile. “Hi,” he returns. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Every possible conversation you’d mentally practiced since your first meeting flew right out of your head. “Well, you know.” You shrug lightly. “A person’s gotta eat.” Inwardly you cringe.

But Frankie is unphased. “I’d be really interested to hear about the kinds of stuff you find out here. This is almost ready, if you don’t feel like foraging for your lunch today.” He gestures behind him to the pan on the fire.

You hesitate, and Frankie seems to sense your uncertainty. “Only if you want.” He holds his hands up in a universal ‘no pressure’ sign, even going so far as to take a step back in emphasis.

You tell yourself to stop being so paranoid. This is what you wanted, after all. All your curiosity comes surging back as the wind shifts and the smell of his cooking sets your stomach growling. “Okay,” you agree. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Great!” Frankie beams. He turns- and promptly trips over Oso, still sitting beside him.

“Fuck!” He curses, hands hitting the ground on the other side of his dog.

You clap a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter. Is he always this prone to falling over? “Are you okay?” You make your way over to them.

“Yeah.” Now upright, Frankie seems flustered to find you so much nearer than before, his gaze flitting over you before he remembers himself. He turns to crouch by the fire again, snatching up his hat and re-securing it on his head.

You seat yourself a short distance away and observe. Oso has reclined on her belly on Frankie’s other side, her eager gaze fixed on the pan as he prods the food. Apparently deeming it finished, he retrieves three paper bowls from his bag and fills one each for you, himself, and Oso. With a small flourish and a nervous smile, he presents yours to you.

“Thank you.” You feel like maybe you should say something else, but he’s already moved to face Oso, murmuring something to her while he gives her her bowl. You decide to let the food do the talking.

And are glad you did when fresh, vibrant flavors flood your tongue. Your eyes flutter wide with surprise. “Wow, this is...incredible. How did you..?” You look between the steaming pan and his rucksack, unable to reconcile the feast of flavors in your bowl with how much you’d have to carry out here to achieve it.

The man blushes at your praise, gaze lowering briefly to hide his pleasure, but he looks back up at your question. “Trade secrets,” Frankie says solemnly. Then he drops the expression with a little laugh, his confidence clearly bolstered by your amazement.

“Just kidding, I’ll tell you. If-” he points his plastic spoon at you “-you tell me how we haven’t crossed paths before.”

That’s a fair deal, especially if it means you get to learn more about him. “I’ll do my best,” you promise. In between bites, you outline your gradual exploration of your surroundings upon moving into a nearby village a little over two years ago. This year, you decided to strike out into new territory- this forest.

“I found this pond pretty quickly and saw the blackberry bushes right at the end of the season last year. I’ve been coming here ever since, keeping an eye on it I guess. But this whole wood is really a gold mine.”

Frankie looks fascinated. “I had no idea. I know some plants, but I couldn’t even begin to guess what all is out here.” His mouth opens to ask more questions, but it’s your turn now.

“What about you?” you quiz. “How have I not seen you before if you’re out here ‘all the time’?”

“Well, I’ve been working my way over from the other side of the hill.” Frankie explains, gesturing to the gentle ascending slope behind him. “I only found this place earlier this year. Didn’t know it was someone else’s territory.” He offers an apologetic grin, and you duck your head, feeling a silly, pleased warmth in your cheeks.

“Anyway, I moved into my place over there about five years ago? But I had a lot to do at first. I made a ton of improvements to the house, I was starting a garden. The hiking was kind of a refuge from that at first, a way to quiet my thoughts when I was stressing myself out.” He admits this last part without looking at you, as if his stress is somehow something to be ashamed of.

“But then I realized that I actually enjoyed it, and it made me feel safer to know the woods in so much detail. So I made it a hobby. Started taking longer walks, mapping where I’d been. Brought whole meals instead of little snacks,” he adds wryly.

You laugh as his humor registers, completely engrossed in Frankie’s tale. He seems to notice this suddenly, and shuffles a little under your attention. “So that’s me,” he concludes, clearing his throat self-consciously.

Any foraging you intended to do today has long been forgotten. You’ve been sitting with your backpack on long enough that your shoulders have begun to ache, and you sling it off impatiently. Frankie seems to further relax himself at the sight of you settling in, leaning back on his hands, his empty bowl given to Oso to lick clean.

There’s one question that hasn’t been answered. “...so how did you end up on instagram?” you probe.

He laughs outright. “I wondered how long it would take you to ask,” Frankie teases. His lopsided grin suggests he knows the impression he gives off. His mirth is infectious, and you find yourself grinning back at him, although you refuse to be embarrassed. He was the one who had thrown his phone at you, after all. And he had stalked your profile right back.

“Well, I’m no photographer,” he begins. “But I like the act of taking pictures. Really stopping and looking at what’s around you, what captures your attention. I was in the army before this, and it was just in-and-out of so many places, not actually experiencing anywhere for real…” Frankie watches you from the corner of his eye, speaking slowly, as if reluctant to say something which might change your opinion of him.

“My friend’s wife- the one whose kid I’m godfather to- suggested I use instagram as a way to organize my photos, but also ‘so they know I’m still alive out here.’” He chuckles. “I kinda like it now- it’s like a public diary. Mostly it was a relief to find that I’m not the only weirdo out there who likes cooking in the woods.”

You breathe a laugh reflexively, but your mind is turning over his words. I keep an instagram, he’d said before. Like a diary. Well, that’s...really cute, actually.

“Well, that makes me feel really shallow,” you joke, unable to think of any deeper response to his unexpectedly meaningful answer.

“Nah.” Frankie dismisses your quip with an easy smile. He asks you about yourself, then. How you got into foraging, other questions inspired by the pictures he’d seen on your page.

For awhile you converse with the uncomplicated lightness of two strangers who know absolutely nothing about each other, but want to. As a dessert offering, you take out the tub of blackberries you’d gathered earlier. Frankie’s eyes widen at their size, fatter than any berry he’d see in the supermarkets.

His freely shared emotions- fascination, curiosity, delight- continue to confirm your impression of him. Safe. His mouth works as he savors the sweet fruit, lips puckering, head nodding in close-eyed approval.

You will yourself not to stare. Looking elsewhere, you glance up at the sky- and the angle of the sun sends you leaping to your feet. “Shit-”

Frankie startles. “What’s wrong?” He tenses, but remains seated. Oso jerks to wakefulness where she’d been dozing by his side.

“I’ve got to start back if I don’t want to be out here at night.” Hurriedly you check your phone to be sure of the time, your heart rate slowing upon seeing it’s not as late as you thought.

Frankie stands now to hand you back your container, still mostly full of berries. You pause. “Keep it,” you tell him. “Make yourself a campfire dessert.”

His lips part in surprise, but you step back before he can protest. “Or at least take them as a thank you. For the food...and the company.”

He purses his lips. “All right. I’ll save making dessert for next time, though.” He subtly searches for your reaction to his implied invitation.

Anticipation lightens your limbs, but you keep your feet firmly planted on the earth. “Next time.” You’re not sure you manage to smother the excitement in your smile.

---

Taglist: @thirstworldproblemss, @leonieb, @computeringturtle, @tobealostwanderer

[aerugonian]

what are some of your fav kakashi centric fics?? ive never been too into naruto but kakashi??? i love him

You’re in luck because the only Naruto fics I read are Kakashi-centric, lmao. Here are some of my favorites (strap in because this is gonna be long – and I hope you like time travel, because there’s a lot of that here.) Fics are listed in no particular order. 

Just the Usual Habits by Applepie (G / gen / 3.9k words / completed / no warnings)

Sakumo has no idea where all of these habits of Kakashi's are coming from. In which five-year-old Kakashi forgets the existence of his left eye, loses his ability to lie believably, and is a little too knowledgeable about the Birds and Bees. Still, no matter what oddities went on in Kakashi's head, one thing is certain – the boy will always love his father, through thick and thin.

Nukenin by WhisperingDarkness (T / gen / 17k words / completed / no warnings)

In the sealed scroll he finds a Bingo Book – his own page marking him as an S-class nukenin with flee-on-sight orders.

“Ok. That is definitely different.”

In his head he blames Naruto – even if his number one unpredictable student had been nowhere near him on this mission. When things go this stupidly impossibly wrong it must somehow be the future Hokage’s fault.

Once More with Feeling by Chicken_Train_And_Laser_Beam (M / gen / 137k words / wip / violence)

After an unexpected turn on a mission with Team Seven, Kakashi Hatake wakes up in the past, trapped in the body of his thirteen-year-old self. Despite being torn away from his own, familiar world, Kakashi resolves to change the future to better the lives of those he loves. Yet, fate is not so easily mastered, and he's not the only one playing the game.

Reversal of Roles by Ranowa Hikura (T / gen / 112,510 words / completed / violence)

Obito didn't push Kakashi out of the way during the Battle at Kannabi Bridge. This one change eventually leads to Godaime Naruto being sent back in time with the leader of the Akatsuki- Kakashi. They arrive at the day of Naruto's Academy graduation, and Naruto must work with the man he hates the most to stop war from happening. Time travel, AU, Kakanaru friendship.

Branches by Mockingone (T / gen / 55k words / completed / no warnings)

Kakashi falls off a tree and lands in a different world. Literally. Now he's in a dimension where nothing makes sense—but he's used to that. Kakashi plans to wreak as much havoc as he can and find his way home... if he can.

What You Knead by AgentMalkere (G / gen / 38k words / wip / no warnings)

It started, as most things did in Kakashi’s life, with a mission gone wrong.

(In which Kakashi accidentally acquires an emotionally healthy coping technique.)

Ear to the Wall by Vodkassassin (NR / gen / 84k words / wip / chose not to warn)

The Minato-sensei beams at him, and replies, “Kakashi! I’m glad you’re awake,” and, yup, that’s Minato-sensei’s voice.

Kakashi falls back down against the bed, closing his eyes. It’s too short of a way down, and he clenches hands that are too tiny and feeble and not his in dog-print sheets he hasn’t owned for decades.

Wolves of Fire Country by Midnite_Republic (T / Kakashi/Izuna / 51k words / wip / chose not to warn)

Wave changed a lot about Team 7, but not enough to make them entirely functional. Also someone should have really reminded Kakashi to pay attention to that tiny part of his genius brain that recognises random patterns, before he called a rest stop on the way home on top of an old, decayed Uzushio travel seal with an over-chakra-charged Uzumaki.

And he thought the month of the Wave mission was long, now he's stuck with the team, in a place he never expected to have anything to do with, with no way back.

Maybe he should have paid more attention to history, or stayed in the academy long enough to have history classes.

Why we build the wall by Dissenter (NR / gen / 49k words / wip / mcd & violence)

A Kiri nin gets trapped in a cave with a Konoha nin near Kannabi bridge. Some things are inevitable.

Or the AU where Kakashi is born in Kiri but still somehow ends up as team seven's teacher.

Outrunning Karma by Anjelle (T / gen / 52k words / wip / no warnings)

Kakashi was forty-two and the world ended in a sea of smoke and ash. Kakashi was forty-two and there stood a man in the carnage, untouched and unfazed as the village burned around him.

Kakashi is nineteen and the world ends tomorrow, and he will do everything he can to make it right. Even if it means making friends of his enemies. Even if it means erasing everything.

Even if it means staring into the face of all that he hates and smiling.

Kakashi is nineteen and Naruto is five and there is still time. Instead of counting his losses, he'll make the most of it.

komorebi by tomorrowsrain (T / Kakashi/Obito / 80k words / wip / no warnings)

In which Kakashi and Obito survive the Kyuubi attack, get exiled from Konoha, learn how to survive, and still manage to become legends along the way.

(The bratty genin are unexpected, though.)

The Hidden Prodigy by Applepie (T / gen / 106k words / wip / chose not to warn)

Somehow sent back into the past, Kakashi is given a second chance to relive his childhood. He is determined to make the most of everyday and to fix the horrors of the future, but sometimes simple determination is not enough to save everyone.

Change Fills My Time by 100demons (M / gen / 73k words / completed / mcd & violence)

Thirty year old Kakashi was supposed to have been killed by Pein during the Invasion. Instead, he wakes up in the body of his twenty year old self.

(It gets a lot more complicated.)

Nidaime Otokage by DuskBeforeDawn (M / gen / 30k words / wip / violence)

No one knew him.

His father was still alive.

His Sharingan acted like it had always been his.

Kakashi was twenty-two years in the past of a different world.

a heap of details, uncatalogued, illogical by 100demons (T / gen / 8k words / completed / no warnings)

Oh,” she says, white hands clenched into tight fists. “I’m-- I was your student. Haruno Sakura.”

Kakashi tilts his head, gray eye analyzing her carefully for tells. He finds nothing. “I’ve never seen you before in my life,” he says flatly.

(Kakashi wakes up fourteen years old.)

Lost on the road of life by RavenShira (M / gen / 80k words / wip / violence)

Kakashi had everything well in hand. He had stepped down from his reign as Rokudaime Hokage, his porn collection was as well worn as should be and his free time was spend with either Gai's challenges or helping out on various tasks while trying to make it seem like he wasn't there to help out. Annoying the hell out of everyone that crosses his path was as easy as breathing – easier now that he didn't have to be polite and diplomatic about it anymore.

So what if he agreed to a teeny-tiny favour of his once student and now successor? Not even Naruto could mess up just scribbling down a fuinjutsu for Kakashi to check over before he got back to his own, very busy life.

… Right?

Or: The one where Kakashi travels back in time, thinks he can fix stuff but clearly gets in over his head.

What’s the Worst That Can Happen? by Applepie (T / gen / 90k words / wip / no warnings)

Life was going quite well, if you asked Naruto Uzumaki. So why did he have to listen to Kakashi of all people? Now, they've time traveled to the past, smack dab in Minato's era, when the soon-to-be Hokage was sporting a team seven of his own. Let history run its course? Never! Kakashi-centric.

Wanted by Anjelle (T / gen / 17k words / wip / no warnings)

Kakashi is your run-of-the-mill hand for hire, except that he's not. Boasting a spotless record with the skills and name to back it up, he's one of the most highly sought after mercenaries in the Land of Fire. He has just one rule:

No Leaf missions.

Unfortunately, his latest client, Tobi, is looking for just that. And there's no doubt in Tobi's mind that Kakashi will accept.

It's only a matter of time.

-

-

 (and a bonus crossover section!!)

Silver-Haired Stranger by TheSimplestWriter (T / gen / 34k words / wip / violence / ATLA)

Kakashi dies protecting his village fighting against Pein... Except he actually didn't and is now in the middle of a desert. Great. [Kakashi swaps one war for another, but he only wants to get back home. Things happen along the way.]

Copy That, Copycat by Nakashira (G / gen / 19k words / wip / violence / BNHA)

Kakashi Hatake dies the Copycat-nin and is reborn with a copycat quirk.

Everything becomes a disaster, and Monoma is tired.

Wonderboy by Tsume_Yuki (T / gen / 19k words / wip / chose not to warn / BNHA)

Who knew some dimensions had actual child labour laws?

In which Kakashi is reborn, the Hero Commission doesn’t put all their eggs in one Hawks shaped basket and Shouta isn't getting paid enough to deal with this shit.

Otherwise known as Kakashi in 1A.

CCG Public Enemy No 1 by euphoric image (T / gen / 19k words / wip / no warnings / Tokyo Ghoul)

Kakashi had a single red-and-black eye for more than half his life. Now, he has two.

Victory Series by ewfte (T / gen / 96k words / wip / violence / BNHA)

A fact about Todoroki Shouto: that is not his name.

[mountainsluna]

children’s books

pairing: witch!wooyoung + witch!reader (as best friends)

genre: humor/supernatural

word count: 1.4k

✩ [author’s note] feel free to send in requests for my witch!wooyoung au! along with any others! i have a couple of stories planned for this, but i’m always open to requests :)

✩ masterlist

✩ requests : check bio or masterlist ♡

“Mother she’s eight years old and more than capable of staying home alone!” Wooyoung complained into his phone at his mother’s request for him to babysit his little sister for the night. “Just throw on some cartoons and fill her with snacks! That’s all I’m gonna do anyways!”

“Ugh, fine!” Wooyoung ended the call, sighing loudly in frustration. “Well there goes my Saturday night.”

“All you were planning to do was binge watch how i met your mother and get drunk on my couch.” You accused, knowing all too well how the boy’s weekends went.

“Yeah and now my plans are ruined.” He sighed getting up from your bed as he walked over to you at your desk. “Looks like you’ll have to get drunk without me.” He sniffled, wiping a non-existent tear from his eye.

“Yeah I’ll try not to miss you too much.” Giving him a fake pout as he patted your shoulder. Vanishing from your side as he left to get ready for his babysitting duties.

Wooyoung showed up at his family’s house around 7pm, unlocking the door with a flick of his wrist, the thought of knocking not even entering his mind. “Family! I have arrived!” He announced, closing the door behind him. He made his way to the sofa, ruffling his sister’s hair who was mindlessly staring at the tv.

“Wooyoung in here!” His mother called from the kitchen.

“Oooh someone looks fancy!” Wooyoung commented, his mother dressed to the nines in a long ball gown and sparkly jewelry.

“Why thank you.” She made her way to the fridge, showing the dinner and bedtime snacks she had prepared for him and his sibling, instructing him not to feed her any sweets or he’ll never get her to sleep.

“I know I know and have her in bed by 9.” He reassured her, putting his mother’s worries to rest. He saw her struggling to close her earring, waving his finger to clasp it for her.

A sigh of relief leaving her as she heard the click of it closing. “Thanks.” She placed a quick kiss on his cheek as she brushed passed him towards the living room. “We should be home by 10, 11 the latest, okay?”

He hummed in response, taking a bag of chips from the pantry as he watched his father enter the room, adjusting the cuff links on his dress shirt. “Don’t wait up though.” he added. “And no magic.” He said sternly, waving a finger at his son from across the room.

“Yeah yeah no magic.” He says as he mindlessly hovered the bag of chips next to him. His father coming over to grab the bag, setting it on the table, startling Wooyoung. “Ah....no more magic.” Smiling sheepishly, earning a glare from the taller man before he made his way to the door.

“Call us if you need anything!” His mother called from the porch, the door closing before he could reply.

The next two hours went by swiftly. He sat his sister down for dinner, joking and playing around with her afterwards, hoping to tire her out before putting her to bed.

But maybe he snuck some cookies as she had her bedtime snack and maybe he had to give her a few as well, when she noticed him. Wooyoung knew his parents would kill him if they got home and his sister was still awake. So he slipped the tiniest bit of a sleep spell onto the cookies. It was the smallest dose, one even his own mother would use on her when she was a baby.

Once 9pm rolled around he settled her into bed, tucking her in before saying good night.

“Wooyoungie, wait!” She called out. “I’m not sleepy! Read me a story.” Wooyoung placed his hands on his hips, walking to her book shelf to pick something out.

“You like Dr. Seuss?” He asked, when she nodded, he pulled out a book titled What Pet Should I Get?

He settled next to her on her bed, leaning against the headboard as he read it aloud. “I saw a fine dog who shook hands. So we shook. So I said...”

“I want him!” His sister chimed. 

“Kay saw a cat. She gave it a pat and said...”

“I want THAT!” Wooyoung read the rest of the story and as he got to the end he noticed she was fast asleep. He snuck his way off the bed and back into the living room to wait for his parents arrival.

He was scrolling through his phone with the tv as background noise when he heard a faint barking sound coming from upstairs. Thinking it was his imagination he looked back at the screen, until he heard a bird singing a cartoonish tune from the same direction accompanied by a mix of other sounds.

He hesitantly made his way up, the noises growing louder the closer he got. As he reached the top step he was met with a hallway full of animals and creatures from the book he had just finished reading to his sister. “Oh no...” He silently made his way back downstairs to call you.

“Can I help you?” You answered sarcastically.

“I’m glad you asked, I need you here asap! I have a magic emergency!” He whispered frantically into the phone not wanting to attract the attention from the creatures above.

“Uhm it’ll take me awhile to get ready so-”

“Unacceptable.” He interrupted, snapping his fingers as you appeared in front of him, your hair in a messy bun, a bright green face mask adorning your face. “Ugh you couldn’t have cleaned up a bit?”

“Wooyoung I swear!”

“Shhh!!!! Keep your voice down!” He explained to you what was going on as you washed off your face at his kitchen sink.

“So you casted a sleeping spell on your sister and now you want me to help wake her up?”

“Yes! But I think she conjured these things up in her dreams or maybe even while I was reading to her! I need you to help me reverse it.”

“Well then, we need to get to the book you read to her.” You said drying off your face.

“Good luck getting past that stampede.” He scoffed, crossing his arms in front of him.

You narrowed your eyes at him in amusement, “Oh I think I have an idea.” Placing your hand on his shoulder, teleporting you both into his sister’s room.

“I...Well see....Ugh nevermind! Let me find the book.” You chuckled at him as he searched for it. Your eyes scanned over his sleeping sister, noticing her soft smile and sleepy giggles. She was probably dreaming about the animals wreaking havoc in the house, thinking it was all just in her mind. “Okay I got it!”

“Alright let’s just reread it but change up the words a bit.” You flipped though the pages, mulling over the wording. “Instead of saying I want these pets, you’re gonna say I don’t want them. Got it?”

Wooyoung nodded, hovering the book between you as you two placed your hands over his sister’s sleeping form. A soft purple glow, emitting from your palms onto her. You read through the book, Wooyoung chiming in at his parts. You heard the noises slowly begin to subside from the other side of the door. After the last few words, the house was completely quite, his sister slowly stirring awake as well. The book dropped to the ground as she rubbed her eyes, trying to focus as you stood in front of her. “Y/n? Is that you?”

Wooyoung moved to the door, opening it slowly, peering into the hallway to make sure everything was back to normal. “I just came to pick up your brother. Everything’s fine sweetie you can go back to sleep.” Without another word she laid back down, drifting off quicker than you expected.

As you both exited the room, the sound of Wooyoung’s parents entering the house rang up the stairs. “Wooyoung, we’re home!” You both scurried down the stairs, meeting them at the doorway. “Oh, Y/n? I didn’t know you were here! It’s nice to see you, I’m not surprised Wooyoung needed help putting her to sleep.”

Not wanting to be in the house any longer, Wooyound slid passed his father with you in tow. “Well we better get going! I’ll call you tomorrow, mother. Good night!” He said placing a quick kiss on her cheek. You waved your goodbyes sheepishly as he closed the door behind you two. Letting out the biggest sigh of relief. “Thank the heavens that’s over with.”

“People need to watch they way they write these children’s books. They’re a lot more dangerous than they look.” You said, reflipping through the pages before making it vanish into thin air.

Wooyoung shrugged his shoulders, raising his eyebrows. “Who knows...maybe my sister’s a witch too.”

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

Can I have a fanfic about sonic going to school?

Oh this one is cute! Due to him being confirmed to be 13 to 14 in the film, I’ll have him start in 6th grade for this prompt.

But we're gonna change it up a little...you'll see what I mean.

I apologize in advance to anyone i caused to cry while reading this, because I did while writing this.

Being small is way past cool.

=======

“Sonic!”

The hedgehog flinched at Tom’s loud voice cutting through the closed ladder door. “Sonic! Are you up yet?”

Groaning, he borrows deeper in his blanket and puts his pillow over his head.

‘God 6 is seriously too early to wake up on a Tuesday.’

Hearing the ladder door slide open, he kept still and held his breath as he heard heavy footsteps come into his room.

“Sonic?” He came closer to the bed, shaking Sonic’s shoulder.

“C’mon bud, you gotta get up now.”

“Nooo” his voice muffled underneath the pillow.

Tom rolled his eyes, whipping back the bed sheets off him.

Feeling the sudden cool air, his body tensed up and glared up at the human.

“Uh-uh Don’t look at me like that, you know you got to wake up now.”

Sonic closed his eyes, curled up his body and rolled over, his back facing Tom.

Tom let out a deep sigh. “Ok then.” he walks away and heads down the stairs.

'Maybe at this rate he'll let me stay home this time.' He sighed in relief as he started to go back to sleep.

That didn't last long before he heard Tom's footsteps come back into the room.

'Ugh spoke too soon.'

Hearing his steps get closer, he felt Tom’s hand wrap around his shoulder, pulling him up in a sitting position.

The hedgehog groaned and let his head fall forward.

‘I’m still not getting up, why is he trying so-AAAAH!’

Sonic let out a scream as he felt a rush of cold mask around his face.

Tom, with a washcloth soaked with cold water, rubbed the cloth around Sonic’s eyes and face. “You should have got up when I told you.”

Swatting his hands away, he rubbed his eyes, now miraculously feeling more awake.

“Wha- What was that?”

“An old trick my mom used on me when I wouldn’t get up, just take a washcloth, soak it in cold water and wipe your face with it.” He grinned as he twirled the cloth around. “Could never really escape from it.”

“Hpmh, you must’ve been a stubborn kid.”

“It worked on you too so you’re not off the hook either.” he flicked the cloth on top of his head. "Now please get yourself ready, I'm not telling you again."

"Fine." He huffed, moving the damp cloth off head and stretched as Tom walked back downstairs.

'He sounds serious this time, maybe he has to work a extra shift again.'

"Well I guess I have to get serious too." Using his speed, he made his bed and grabbed his toothbrush, zipping to the bathroom to get washed up.

Tom heard him zipping upstairs as he sat down at the table, letting out a deep sigh,

Maddie walked over to him, holding two cups of coffee. “Everything ok up there?”

“Teenagers.” He said bluntly as he took his cup from Maddie. “I always thought we got lucky from skipping the terrible two’s or that awkward preteen stage, but this-.”

He stopped to take a long sip from his mug. “I wonder how our parents felt when we went through this.”

“Tom, it’s probably because it’s the end of the first week of school for him and he doesn’t want to go due to how often he’s been home.”

"So he's becoming stagnant basically?"

"In a matter of speaking, yes."

"Oh god, he's becoming a basement baby."

"Pfft, that only counts once they're 18 and over Tom."

"Don't be so sure of that, he already lives in our attic. So he's kinda like a...attic toddler."

Maddie nearly dropped her plate from stifling her snorts of laughter, passing Tom his plate. "Yeah ok, don't him hear you call him that."

"Please with all the names he calls us, we should at least get to call him something." He huffed as he cut into his eggs.

"I thought he did have one? The Blue Devil?"

"Nope, it's Attic Toddler now." He waved his hand, mouth partially full.

Maddie let out a hum as she ate her eggs. "Hmm I don't think he likes that too much."

"Why'd you say-?"

"ATTIC TODDLER?!?"

Tom let out a yell and jumped nearly a foot into the air as he heard Sonic's voice shrill right behind him. Ozzie barked in response to his yell, only for Maddie to call him over and calm him down.

Grabbing his chest, Tom panted as he looked at the hedgehog, who was wearing a small red shirt with a picture Saturn on it, looking very offended.

"Dude! You know better than to sneak up behind people and scream like that!"

Ignoring Tom's remark, he carried on sounding more agitated. "'Attic toddler'? C'mon Tom I'm not that short!"

Catching his breath, he turned around in his chair to fully face him, slightly smiling. "I mean can you blame me, you're about the size of a toddler."

Sonic tightens his fists, cheeks blushes slightly. "NO I'M NOT!!"

His eyes flash blue for a split second and small sparks erupts from his quills as he panted from his outburst.

Ozzie whimpered and cowered underneath the table. Tom eyes widen while Maddie let out a gasp at the hedgehog's sudden outburst.

Tom was the first to break the dead silence. "Sonic?"

Still panting, he blinked before looking shocked and shaking his head, sparks disappearing and his eyes going back to emerald green.

"I....uh...I." he fiddled with his hands, looking down at the floor and taking a few steps back from the couple.

Tom went to stand up, Sonic backed away even more. “Hey-.”

“I’m sorry.” He murmured quickly before speeding up to his room, shutting the door behind him.

“Soni-.” He voice got cut off at the sound of the door closing.

Gripping his chair, he put his weight against the back, looking where Sonic disappeared.

“Tom?” He turned around to see his wife, both hands on the table as she looked at him, her face hardened. “What in the world was that?”

Choking on his words, he sat back down and leaned on the table, letting out a hard breath.

“I have no idea Mads.” Ozzie came out slowly from the table and approached Tom, putting his head on his knee.

He scratched his head in response. “I’ve never seen him like....that before, last time I saw him like this was months ago when he was fighting Robotnik.”

Maddie folded her hands and put them against her mouth. “I know and he’s never yelled in that way either." After a short pause she glances up.

"Do you think something happened at the school?"

"Hmm possibly, we haven't got any calls from them yet."

She reached across the table and grabbed his hand. "Oh Tom, do you think he may be getting picked on?"

He opened his mouth to speak only to close it, thinking about what she said. 'I mean it's not far fetched that he actually could be, it's pretty common around this age group.'

"Middle school kids can be pretty brutal, man it's only the first week for him too."

"He got pretty upset at the comment you made, maybe it something related to that."

"Yeah he did...." drumming his fingers against the table before snapping his fingers. "I got something."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"I'm gonna just take a page out of my dad's book for once, hopefully it works for him like it did for me".

=======

'Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!' He screamed mentally as paced around his room, trying to calm down.

"Why did I yell at them like that?!? They didn't know what was going on anyway, now they're definitely going to know that something's up! Way to go Sonic!" He threw his arms up in the air as he sat against his beanbag chair.

Taking a few breaths, he hugged his arms and stared at his feet. 'I...don't know what to do.'

Feeling his eyes sting, he sniffed and blinked away any incoming tears.

Looking up, the clock read 7:05. 'An hour and a half left huh? Maybe I'll take a walk instead of a run today.'

Getting up slowly, he put on his windbreaker and grabbed his backpack. He traced over the stitching of the owl that was sewn on the back before hugging the bag to his chest.

Pushing the ladder down, he slowly made his way to the main steps and pushed the ladder up, his ears picked up the sound of the shower turning on and faint singing coming from it.

'Maddie's still here, I wonder if she's mad at me? And Tom...'

He shook his head as he made his way to the front door, looking over to where Ozzie was laying, the dog's head was between his paws as he saw Sonic pass by.

"See you later Oz" he waved sheepishly at the dog.

Not moving an inch, Ozzie gave a small bark in reply.

He winced at the lack of energy the retriever gave. 'Oh man I guess he's mad at me too.'

He stepped onto the front porch, closing the door behind him. Adjusting his book bag zipping up his coat, he made his way down the stairs, his mind still going.

“Hey!”

The teen jumped and ducked slightly at the sound of a deep voice echoing in the yard. “Raise your hands where I can see them!”

Recognizing the voice, he let out a sigh as he walked towards the truck, the window rolled all the way down revealing that Tom was sitting inside.

Tom leaned his head out, his elbow out the window. “Hey bud.” He said softly.

“Hi.” He murmured, looking down at the ground.

A short pause. “Why so blue?”

Sonic huffed and glared up at the human, who held back a laugh before clearing his throat.

“No seriously though, how you feeling?”

“I’m.....fine.” Deep down he knew that he still wasn’t fine, but he didn’t want Tom to see that.

“Hmm-mmm.” He checked his watch before opening the door on the passenger side. “Well come on.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t have to be at the station until 9 so I’m taking you to school today.”

“O-oh, no that’s ok I was gonna just walk to school.”

Tom looks at him, straight faced.

“Sonic, I’m taking you to school.”

His voice was calm, but carried an eerie tone to it. As if saying, “you definitely have no other choice in the matter.”

Squirming under his gaze, he holds up his hands in surrender. “Ok whatever you say.”

He sighs as he makes his way into the passenger seat, closing the car door, putting his bag on the floor and folding his arms as he sat.

Putting the car in reverse, Tom backed the car out of the driveway.

“Put on your seatbelt.” He without looking back.

Sonic takes the seatbelt and straps it behind him rather than around him and clicks it in.

"Fasten it around your body please". He says, still not looking back.

Shocked, he complies while staring at him. ‘How does he do that? I swear grown ups have eyes in the back of their heads.’

=======

Tom continued to drive at a steady pace, one hand on the steering wheel, the other out the window.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sonic looking out the window at the passing trees, face in his palm and face sullen.

Clearing his throat, his decides to break the silence. “So do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“That big elephant you left in the room.”

“Elephant? There was no elephant anywhere.”

“No-what I mean is that something is obviously bothering you and it’s starting to worry me and Maddie.”

He clutched the strap of the seatbelt. “Nothing’s bothering me.”

“Really? Cause the way you acted back there says otherwise.”

“I just-, I just didn’t like the way you called me a toddler that’s all.” He squeezes the belt tighter.

“If you didn’t like that I called you a toddler, you would have just told me that instead of yelling at me like that.”

"I didn't mean to yell, it just came out that way."

"Then why are you upset that I called you that?"

Sonic just shrugged his shoulders while giving a noise that sounded like "I don't know".

"Yes you do, you just don't upset like that for no reason."

Sonic stayed silent, hugging himself and closed his eyes, kneeling his head against the door.

Tom sighed in defeat, putting his eyes back on the road. 'It must be tough on him if he just won't say it to me.'

Seeing the exit ramp towards the school come into view, he increased his speed and drove right past it.

Sonic snapped out of it and watched as they went past the ramp.

"I figure we take the long way around, since we have the time." Tom answered, sensing the teen's confusion.

Sonic closes his mouth and nods, leaning his back against the seat, his shoulders noticeably loosening up and his face relaxed.

Tom grinned as he drove down the road, passing underneath the trees and by individual houses.

He turned the car onto a wide dirt road and drove up a hill leading to a area surrounded by a small glade of trees.

'Are we at a camping ground?' Looking around, he sees a small number of picnic tables and wooden signs.

"Why are we here?" He asks Tom, who is looking around the area, seemingly looking for something.

"Change of scenery, Ah there it is!" Tom exclaimed as he pulls into a space and puts the car in park.

Looking over the dashboard, he sees a metal guard rail bordering where the flat ground ends and an open view of the sky and trees down below, clear of any trees from blocking it.

Tom gets out and stretches his arms, breathing out a loud sigh before walking away from the car.

Sonic gets out slowly and closes the door. He walks over to the guard rail, backing up slightly at the steep drop beyond it.

It was a rather quiet place, only hearing woodpeckers and birds chirping in the distance and the sounds of the pine needles crunching under his shoes.

He turned around as he heard Tom grunting and saw him climbing up on the hood of the car and putting his back against the windshield, his feet dangling in front of the muffler.

Seeing Sonic stare at him, he patted the spot on the hood next to him.

He sped over on top of the hood and sat down next to the human, crossing his legs.

The two sat in silence for a bit before Tom spoke. "You're probably still wondering why I took you here right before school."

"Yeah I still am actually."

Tom chuckled. "Well this place is pretty special to me. Me and Maddie would take walks up here when we got engaged, take Ozzie on walks, even have some barbecue parties with some of the neighbors." He paused before mouth became tight.

"This is also the same place my dad took me when I was about your age.

Sonic let out a small gasp and raising his head up. "Really?"

"Yeah, it was actually for the same reason you're going through right now. Middle school was getting rough for me and my parents knew right away that something was wrong." He smiled at the distant memory before continuing.

"So one random day he came up to my room and told me that he was driving me to school, I didn't think much of it so I went along with it."

"Then he drives up into these woods and pulls up in the same spot that we're in right now."

Sonic eyes widened as he leaned in with interest.

"We both sat on the hood of his old pickup and just stared at the sun rising, it made me feel...calm and relaxed, So much so I was able to him what was going on."

"What'd you tell him?"

"About how the kids were teasing me, calling me names behind the teachers back and no one wanted to be around me because I was the sheriff's son."

"And I'll never forget what he said to me, he said "Thomas, those kids are just jealous because they wish their fathers were as cool and handsome just like I am."" Tom said as he tried to imitate his father's voice, making Sonic giggle at the rough impression.

Letting out a laugh as well, he smiled before talking in his regular voice. "But what he also told me was "They think because of what family you were born into, you'll turn out just like them, good or bad. It's up to you to show them that you are unique in both mind and soul and eventually prove them wrong, you got what it takes, son.""

Tom beams as he finishes the story, looking down Sonic, who eyes were starting to water.

"Oh, hey buddy you ok?" He spoke softly as he puts a hand on Sonic's shoulder, who nods his head as he wipes away incoming tears.

"*sniff* Yeah I'm fi-." He stops realizing what he's about to say. 'No you're not.'

"No I'm not fine actually."

Hand still on his shoulder, he pulls him in closer. "Go ahead, I'm listening."

He took a deep breath before speaking. "Some of the kids at school have been....making fun of my height."

Tom stiffens up but listens as Sonic continues. "On the first day, it was kinda like a joke, the fact that I'm in 6th grade and I look like I should be in 1st grade. I didn't think much of it."

His fists resting on his knees clench up. "Then this one group of kids in my PE class, they really went at it and wouldn't stop. They didn't do things like push me in a locker or beat me up or anything because of my speed, but the things they said...." He stops as he feels his throat go tight.

"What things did they say to you?" He kept his voice steady.

His voice cracks. "They said that my speed was the reason my parents didn't want me anymore, my height was not normal for my age and then yesterday they told me that it was only reason I was taken in by the sheriff was because I'm "an abomination that no one else wanted and that he could use me for hunting practice". He finishes as his voice cuts off and a few tears run down his face.

Tom uses his thumb to wipe the tears from his face as he pulls him closer. Sonic lets out a small sob as he wraps his arms around Tom's waist and cries softly into his chest, with Tom holding a hand behind his head and back.

The two sit on the hood of the truck as Sonic quiet sobs fill the air with Tom rubbing his back and whispering words of comfort.

After a few minutes, Sonic pulls away from the embrace hiccuping slightly, wiping his eyes and sniffing loudly.

Tom pulls out a tissue while continuing to rub his back. "Here, blow your nose."

Sonic wipes his eyes before blowing his nose hard. He leans back against Tom's side, trying to control his breathing.

"Sonic, why didn't you say anything to us if those kids were picking so much?

He shook his head. "I didn't want to guys to worry about it, I thought if I just tough it out it would be fine."

"Is that why you yelled like that?" Seeing him nod his head slowly, he let out a deep sigh.

"Ok we got to agree on some things, first thing is next time something like this happens, please let us know right away, it's not good to hold in emotions like that."

He nods in agreement. 'Oh trust me I know.'

"Two, please don't raise your voice like that at us again. You're lucky I was taking you, Maddie wasn't too happy that you did that."

"O-ok, I think Ozzie was mad at me too."

"You probably just scared him a little."

"And three, don't let people like that get to you, they never know the full story of your life unless they are apart of it."

"Oh yeah, they don't." He wipes eyes again with his palm.

"Hey, they might even be jealous at the fact that your living with a sheriff that's so devilishly handsome." He clutches his chin and raises his eyebrows.

Sonic let out a wet laugh, pushing Tom's shoulder. "Pfft I know that's definitely not it."

"Wha- how dare you, I'm eligible to be on the Bachelor!" He let out a fake gasp as he poked Sonic in the sides.

The hedgehog shrieked as he shielded away, swatting away his hand.

Tom shook his head as he checked his watch.

"Whoa, it's 8:15 already? We better get going." He grunted as got off the hood.

"Oh right, school." Sonic said solemnly as he looked out at the view, the sun near the top of the trees. 'I kinda don't want to leave now.'

"Hey Tom? Is it ok if we come back here again?"

"Yeah that's a good idea, we can come back during the weekend."

"Sweet". He zipped into car and buckled his seatbelt.

"Oh yeah, you forgot something at home." Tom reached into his duffle bag and pulled out a small lunch box.

"Oh my god thank you! I didn't realize I left it." He hugged the bag to his chest before putting it on the floor.

"Been there before and trust me it's not fun. Oh and make sure you eat this before we get there." He tossed Sonic a banana from his bag.

The hedgehog looked down at the fruit in confusion. "Uhh why are you giving a banana? I already have my lunch."

"You didn't eat breakfast." He replies bluntly.

Right at that moment, his stomach lets out an audible growl. He blushes as he opens it and starts taking small bites.

'Can read him like a book.'

=======

The truck pulled up in front of the school, the students gathering from all over, from walking to being dropped off.

Tom put the car in park as he looked up at building then to Sonic, who was still looking out the window, face filled with uncertainty.

"Hey." He tapped his shoulder to get his attention. "Remember what I said, don't let those kids get to you."

"Yeah, I know."

"Good, cause I'm saying this not only as your friend, but also as your guardian, your size can be your greatest strength, other than that blue sparky thing you do sometimes."

His eyes widened at the word "guardian" before beaming widely, his tail wagging. "Really?"

"Yeah, do you know how many people's knees you can kick at your height?"

"Oh no I meant what you-......uh nevermind." He grabbed his bag and lunch box and went to open the door, before turning around and wrapping his arms around Tom's neck.

Startled, Tom froze at the sudden action before hugging him back.

"Thank you." He leaned back to look at Tom, smiling widely.

"Anytime, bud" he said warmly as he rubbed the teen's ears.

He drew back from the hug, jumped down from the seat and shut the car door.

"I'll see you later, Tom!" He yelled behind his back as he rushed towards the building, stopping to talk to 2 boys, giving them high fives before walking in with them.

"See you later...son."

[goodfemalecharacters]

coda snippet: pride

this isn’t my full coda because I have to wake up tomorrow.  but I was upset and transferred some of that to sam, as I am wont to do, so now you get a preview. remembering mary, 750 words.

Sam aches.

It’s not often that he can feel each and every one of the centuries his soul has lived bearing down on him.  But right now, they crush his lungs together, squeeze every last drop of air from his windpipe.

He’s old and weary.  And he’s so, so very tired of making mistakes.

When he’d met golden eyes in a nursery—a story as old as he is, played in reverse—he’d seen a mirror.  An opportunity to take a soul just as darkened by Lucifer’s shadow as his own and mold into something better.

When he’d met Lucifer’s leftovers in a church—another rhyme, an echo of Lilith in the convent—he’d seen a shell.  An opportunity to take the broken pieces Lucifer left behind and rebuild them into something new.

Jack and Nick played equal parts in Mary’s second death.  And Sam?  He just played the fool again.

Mary told him that he was a good man on her very last day on Earth.  Sam wonders if, in the Heaven that he doesn’t think will ever make Mary Winchester truly happy, she still thinks that.  Probably not.  Perspective is important.

He finds himself standing at her door, hand raised as if to knock, the lump in his throat doing every bit as much as the guilt in his chest to stop him from breathing.  Finally, he turns the knob and walks inside.

His clothes still smell like smoke.  It mixes with the scent of her perfume.  He’d always found that little habit odd���hunters usually end up smelling like the guts of the things they kill.  Not much point to perfume.  Sam wonders if it’s the same kind she wore when he and Dean were kids.  Probably not.

She’s half-packed, ready to go at a moment’s notice.  She never stayed long.

Sam sinks on wobbly legs on to the bed.  There are two books on her nightstand—a dog-eared Vonnegut she’d stolen from Dean, published two years after her original death, and a familiar journal.  Sam holds his breath as he picks it up.

After Dad died, Sam had flipped these pages until they’d worn thin under his fingers, looking for some sort of answer.  He does the same now, but there’s one difference.

A new page.

Two of them, actually.  One labelled for Dean, and the other—Sam’s heart stutters in his chest when he sees his name in a careful loopy scrawl that looks almost like his own.

May 13th, 2016

Dear Sam,

I don’t know if anyone ever told you this, but you were a NICU baby.  I didn’t even get to hold you before they were bundling you up and rushing you out the door.  I told Dean that you were so eager to greet the world that you came a whole month early.  He probably doesn’t remember.

Those first few days were so scary.  Instead of taking you home, I did laps around the hospital.  When there were visiting hours, your dad and I would stand there and just stare at you.  I’d place my hand flat against the glass and pray that you’d be out soon.

It was a whole two weeks before they sent us home with you.  Your dad had to pry you out of my arms to put you down for that first night.

I guess I should get to why I’m telling you this story.

You scared me, Sammy.  From the very first moment of your life, you scared me.

And you scare me now.  Not because of anything you’ve done.  But because of what I did to you.

When I died, I guess whatever the angels did to me to make me forget my deal evaporated.  That’s why I was a ghost, I think.  My unfinished business was you, Sam.  I gave you up to Azazel in exchange for your father’s life.  I traded you.  How could you possibly forgive me for that?

But then, you came in today and gave me this book and a hug I needed more than you could ever know, so maybe you already have.  

All I know is this.  I’m going to try.  Sam, it’s going to take a while, and I’m so sorry for that.  But I can’t wait to see the man that you’ve become.  I can already tell that I have so much to be proud of.

Love,

Mom

Sam folds the letter once, twice.  Sets it in the breast pocket of his shirt as he gets to his feet.

Three years with Mary Winchester was never going to be enough.  But all Sam knows is this.  He’s going to do everything in his power to make sure her pride wasn’t misplaced.

(ao3)

[galahadwilder]

Children of War, Ch. 5: My Sibling’s Keeper

A scant two miles away, Gabriel Agreste entered his home office tired. He hated using his powers this late, but Claude had been right: his brother would have killed the children in his rage, and—well, a monster Hawkmoth may have been, but he made sure to never do any damage that couldn’t be reversed.

He stopped short when he saw a very familiar head of blonde hair sitting in the chair across from his desk.

Impossible, his mind told him, as his heart dropped into the position that had been vacated by his stomach, which had chosen that moment to leap into his throat. She couldn’t be here. Despite everything Gabriel had worked for, there was no possible way—

Then the headache, when he remembered how much Emelie had looked like her sister.

”Hello, Allegra,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose and waiting for the pounding of his pulse to die down. “What brings you to my house this late at night?”

”Something we couldn’t speak about in daylight,” Allegra replied without turning. “Are you going to sit?”

Gabriel sighed and stalked towards his desk, dropping into his chair with a huff and steepling his fingers as he met his sister-in-law’s eyes for the first time in three years. “What do you want?” he growled.

She grimaced back. “That dog on the news,” she said. “That wasn’t an Akuma.” She said it matter-of-factly—not a question. Almost an accusation.

”No,” Gabriel replied, glancing down at the notes he’d made over the last few days. Notes he should not have left on his desk—except Claude had called while he was working on them, and he’d had to intervene before he could hide them. “That was the Grim.”

Allegra should have collapsed into her chair. After all they’d been through, Gabriel had nearly had a heart attack when he saw it, when he realized his wife’s sacrifice had been pointless. But instead, Allegra smiled. “So the Yokai are free, then,” she whispered.

Gabriel’s eyes widened. “You are about to do something VERY dangerous, Sister.”

”I’m not your sister,” Allegra said, a menacing glint in her eye. “I’m hers.”

”And she is MY WIFE!” Gabriel shouted, leaping to his feet and slamming his palms against his desk. “I will not bring her back to see Paris in flames!”

Allegra smirked. “And what you’re doing is so much better?”

Gabriel waved his fingers. “Ladybug cleans up—”

”And when you win?” Allegra interrupted. “When she can’t fix your messes? Bridgette can’t use the Cure from the Centre D'accueil Et De Crise, you know, and you can’t use it at all.” She grimaced. “We can beat them again. Properly this time.”

“If you think I’m giving you power again—”

Allegra shook her head. “You think I need it? All we have to do is wait for the seal to break, and Emelie will come back.”

He stared at you. “What happened to you?”

She sighed. ”The same thing that happened to all of us,” she said. “War.” She put a finger to her chin. “You know, sometimes I think Claude made the right decision, getting out when he did.”

”Undoubtedly,” Gabriel replied. He didn’t mention that Claude had called him tonight. He didn’t mention Félix. Allegra seemed unhinged enough without tonight’s events giving her ideas.

Then again, Gabriel was hardly sane himself, was he? Maybe this was what war did to them, did to the children who fought it. Maybe none of them had escaped unscathed.

”Emelie is coming back, Allegra,” he said. “I swear it.” He sat and massaged his temples with the tips of his fingers. “But when she does, I’m going to make certain that I’m the only one who has to die for it.”

***

The Miraculous Cure fixed everything, as it always did. Ladybug felt her leg snap back into place with a sharp shock of pain before it was washed away in the euphoric rush of pink wings.

The broken streets and the collapsed buildings righted themselves, shattered bricks melded together again in a way no human industry could ever rival. The black fires guttered out and vanished, the red lightning whipped away in a gust of fairy-pink wind. And then it was just an average Paris boulevard, save the four people in the middle of it: Ladybug, Chat Noir, Claude Lahiffe, and... an unconscious blond man she vaguely recognized, though she couldn’t for the life of her remember where it was from.

She held up a fist for Chat to bump, but he’d already wrapped his arms around her, sobbing into her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

”I’m fine, Chat,” she laughed. “I’m—”

”Amazing,” Lahiffe said. “You look just like her.”

Her head snapped around to stare at him, and she was suddenly reminded of all of the strangeness that had occurred tonight. “Monsieur Lahiffe,” she said, “I think you have some questions to answer.”

”Of course,” he replied. “But... tomorrow.” He gestured at her earrings. “You’re out of transformation time, and I’m not explaining this twice.”

True to Lahiffe’s words, Ladybug heard the telltale beep from her earrings that signaled that she had one minute remaining on her transformation. Her hands flew up to her earlobes, and she glanced at Nino’s father. “Tomorrow,” she said. “Your rooftop.”

She hugged Chat again. “Take care of yourself, Kitty,” she whispered, then threw her yo-yo and whipped off into the night.

***

Three miles away, at the Centre D'accueil Et De Crise, Bridgette Cheng sat up and gasped. “Kitty?” she said, staring out the window.

Behind her, the shadows moved.

***

In his bedroom atop the Agreste mansion, Gabriel Agreste stood ramrod straight, staring at the open locket in his hand. A photograph of a blonde woman with a pointed chin.

“The Lion is loose,” he said. “And so is the Toad.”

There was no answer from the photograph, but then, there never was.

”Oh my darling Emelie,” he murmured. “What have you done.”

@vicckychepz @sailormew4 @thoughtscontagion @snow-swordswoman

“Children of War” is already on chapter 7 on my AO3! If you want to read it here, though, be sure to follow the tag on my page.

[olympivnshq]

congratulations daisy ! your dedication to HEBE was truly inspiring, it made L & i feel like plebeians and sit up and pay some serious attention, because who are we and what kind of life choices are we making ?? we can’t wait to see what else you do with juliet and how she flourishes as hebe with your first faceclaim choice: ZOEY DEUTCH.  

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ  OOC INFO.

Daisy, PST, lover of baking and Starbucks

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ  DEITY  —  GENDER. AGE RANGE.

HEBE, goddess of youth - FEMALE. 20-25

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ MORTAL NAME. JOB/OCCUPATION. BOROUGH/NEIGHBORHOOD.

Juliet Young. Make-Up Artist and Waitress. Chelsea, Manhattan

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ AESTHETICS.

mortal form: oversized sweatshirts, different earrings each day, dancing with or without music, “just for fun”, laughter at everything, heart-shaped lollipops, pink make-up brushes, commitment issues, decisions made by impulse, social media addict, one drink too many, lipstick stains on cheeks, crushes that last only a moment, a deep love for life, spots every dog within a 5 mile radius

goddess: forever young, smiles and sunshine, innocent on the outside, knowing her importance, the diligent daughter, always too perfect, ambrosia and nectar, golden goblets, delicate jewels, youthful beauty, patron of young brides, married to a legend (and a legend herself), a secret desire for mortality, the taste of honey, pink eyeshadow and flushed cheeks

“In her grandest form, she was covered in gold, iridescent jewels flowing. In her greatest form, she was barefoot in white cotton, the river-drenched skirts and grass stains her only adornment.”

☆ﾟ*・ PLAYLIST.

i. And I remember all my childhood dreams; I find it hard to get them out of my mind ii. Been 21 since 17, thanks to all the magazines; sometimes I just wanna scream and break my screen iii. When the sky was gold, and I needed no protection; when I was young, whatever happened it would do me no wrong iv. An urge to kiss you and let this secret pleasure out; this youthful slender, hallucinate my woes away

☆ﾟ*・ HOW WOULD YOU PLAY THEM?

Juliet Sinclair has experienced little tragedy in her mortal memories. She was carefully placed within a middle class family, given loving parents and a talented twin sister. They lived comfortable in Long Island for all of her “life”. They were happy - or so the pictures imply. She smiled alongside these people, these strangers who were not strangers at all, and she looked happy. Whatever vengeful beast cast aside the gods, they had shown her mercy with this naive life and innocent memories. Young and beautiful and unbothered - her luck was likely better than the rest. Juliet walks around the city with child-like trust, just as Hebe once walked the roads of Olympus. The connections established in these feeble memories had given her a clear path - one she had not questioned over the course of the past year. She is a waitress (once a cupbearer, always a cupbearer, it seems) at a hip Greek-fusion restaurant, and on her days off she is a fairly successful makeup artist, serving various socialites and the occasional C- or D-list celebrity. Her specialty is covering up wrinkles in order to give her client’s a “youthful glow”, or so her reputation says.

For whatever she has accomplished, Juliet is a severely naive girl. Life is perfect, life is beautiful - “Just smile and everything will work out!” She does not remember the trials of a goddess, but rather the innocence of mortal youth. Those doe-eyes exude hope, something many of her siblings had abandoned long ago. Rather than dwell on the difficult or even notice the bad, she lets a goofy grin spread on her lips as if she’s happy to simply be alive.

Her only trouble comes with something that plagues her entire “generation” - social media has consumed her, even in her memories. Perfect, pretty, poised. Juliet’s account is for business (she says), since many of her clients visit her page for samples of her work and even to judge Juliet herself. Each post is perfectly curated, each caption expertly written; she tracks the likes and despairs over a lost follower. She insists that it’s part of her business, but of course there’s more to it - both the problem and asset of youth is being seen. And she is seen, she’s made sure of it. But they don’t really know her, how could they? She doesn’t even know herself.

answer these questions: 1. are they more likely to stand with the pantheon or against it? Juliet has never considered breaking apart from the gods; she was their dutiful cupbearer (when she was Hebe, that is) and she did as she was told. But her desire to be mortal, her curiosity of what it is to live and die as a human, may create a fissure in her alliance. She would never lift a sword against her brothers and sister of Olympus - she has no reason to. Her life among the gods was idyllic. She was useful, needed; she was - is - an asset to their immortality. Juliet’s only concern is in her curiosity. Perhaps she would rather stay amongst the mortals than return to the mountain; perhaps she would like to grow up. What a shock it would be to see a wrinkle on her brow, with only skillful make-up as a solution and not simply a snap of her fingers to reserve the age.

2. what is their stand on mortals? Curious. That is the best word to describe her strange fascination with them. How can they be so comfortable with aging? Some fight against it, this is true - they cover their skin with liquid to blur their wrinkles, they use computers to enhance their features (or create new ones). Others accept the role of nature. They grow from child to adult and know that one day they will die. Hebe has never considered a death from age, not when she was able to so easily reverse it. She has always wondered what it was like to walk amongst them, to exist in their presence and in their world. The truth is, her youth might be better served in the ground than in the sky.

☆ﾟ*・ SAMPLE PARA (OPTIONAL)

A lollipop sat between delicate pink lips as Juliet tried to balance a plastic cup of iced coffee, a bulky makeup case, and a tablet (whose screen had already been shattered from a similar situation) in overflowing arms. The items were tipping over, precariously threatening to crash to the floor and embarrass her in the decadent lobby. Her savior came in the form of a stranger, a man she had never met but she was sure she had known intimately in another life. Those eyes - blue, so blue. She would never forget them, yet she also did not remember. He appeared out of nowhere, catching her case and her dripping coffee all in one fell swoop. “Ah, my hero,” she teased, although a smile of gratitude crossed her mouth. And as he replied, his voice deep and strong, that tugging familiarity only grew stronger. Her brow knit as she watched him, as if the longer she looked, the likelihood of her remembering would increase. “Do I know you?” The question appeared to shock him as well - perhaps he was thinking the same thing. “Maybe we knew each other in another life,” he shrugged, and Juliet couldn’t tell if he was serious. That was the answer she accepted, though, and with bright eyes she enticed him into helped her up to her client’s floor. ( She had a feeling he would have trouble saying no to her, as if he couldn’t in their “past life” either. ) “What should I call you, then?” It was a simple question. She was looking for a name, something like James or Charlie or Adam. But when he replied, “Well, if I’m your hero, maybe you should just call me Hercules,” her entire body froze. She had no idea why there was ice in her veins, why her heart was trying to escape her chest to reach him. Ignore it, don’t let it bother you - it’s probably nothing. Just a crush that will fade as soon as he leaves your sight. As she entered the apartment, leaving him behind with a polite thank you, the woman she was faced with was equally familiar. There were rumors about her, as there always are in New York’s high society - they said she was promiscuous, that she had a different lover each night. That the woman was more obsessed with the idea of love than actually loving anyone. Juliet preferred to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, but the feeling of familiarity tugged on her insistently. As she painted the woman’s plump lips red, she remembered watching them sip from a golden goblet; as she ran her brush along the woman’s nose, she remembered peering at its delicate slope from the corner of her eye as they sat side by side. How? How would she know these people without knowing them? And as she left she called her sister, someone she knew to be real and consistent and sensible. “I feel so weird,” she admitted, “like I forgot an entire part of my life. That’s so stupid, right?”

☆ﾟ*・ ANYTHING ELSE?

I went way overboard with pinterest.

[pollyperks]

Fingers Down Pages, Eyes Along Words

a little Lan WanJi centered fic (with bonus wangxian) I dabbled with because I love him and that’s pretty much all my reasoning  (Ao3 link)

Lan WangJi has always known he is a seeker of knowledge. From childhood to teenage years to adulthood, he devours every bit of information he can get his hands on like it’s food and water, and for a long time, he wonders why. Is it a need to prove himself? By his early teens he is already a skilled cultivator far beyond his years and his skill on the guqin is nearly unsurpassable. And he has proven himself to his sect, his clan, his uncle, his brother. He is never quite sure what his father thinks of him, isn’t sure whether when his father looks at him if he truly sees him instead of the ghost of his mother, and so for a while, he thinks he continues to learn in order to become a son in the eyes of his father instead of just a memory.

But perhaps the truth is simply that the library has become his sanctuary, and the manuscripts his best companions. Besides his brother, Lan WangJi has just never quite grasped the idea of talking with others, and even Lan XiChen jokes about how much he has to read by Lan WangJi’s eyes and the set of his mouth for he so very rarely speaks. But the other disciples are so loud and so frivolous, and the manuscripts in the library are always there. They teach in quiet, private lectures, never chide, always allow him the time to think and explore the new ideas they plant in his head. Whether it’s books of cultivation or poetry, he soaks it up, and thinks that perhaps he learns because the knowledge is there to be found.

Of course, his quiet contemplation is broken by the noisy disciple from the Yunmeng Jiang sect who teases and whines and laughs and smiles in a way not many people have smiled at Lan WangJi before. They tend to be thrown off by the fact he doesn’t smile back, but not this Wei WuXian. He seems to have an endless supply of laughter and energy and Lan WangJi has not applied himself enough to the study of humans to realize how much a smile could hide, perhaps even more than a face of stone.

Lan WangJi cannot seem to learn Wei WuXian, and that is frustrating. If only he was a book, then Lan WangJi could run his fingers down the pages and trace along the ink, discover the difference between the variations of his smiles, know when he is teasing and when he is sincere. Mostly he is teasing, Lan WangJi decides.

If he could run his fingers along the soft skin of Wei WuXian’s cheek, maybe he could learn to read his smile, trace his eyes and nose and ears, follow ink-black hair in the messy array to the very end in attempts to gain some insight. But the thought makes his ears burn and he lies awake too long at night after curfew desperately trying not to think about it. Wei WuXian leaves the Cloud Recesses not too soon after, but his memory lingers in the library and Lan WangJi wishes one of his books could give him answers on how to banish it.

Wei WuXian, he decides in the following years, is an annoyance. The time apart had softened his memory of just how obnoxious Wei WuXian could be, and he knows he himself is all too easily read when his forehead ribbon slips away in Wei WuXian’s fingers. Still, he is not as angry as he thought he was, Lan WangJi thinks that night, as he checks for the twentieth time the ribbon knot is secure. And then he frowns, because since when did his own feelings become so complicated?

Just what is it about Wei WuXian?

He has always been a seeker of knowledge, but continuing along this path scares him. He plays the guqin instead and lets his feelings out in the soft plucking of strings. This is no Inquiry. Merely his own heart, strung out in a song.

When the Wen sect comes calling, Lan WangJi stands before the library and tries to protect his sanctuary, his friends and his teachers, the place that is truly his, but all he gets for it is a broken leg and ash in his eyes as the Cloud Recesses burn. Although he had already poured over every manuscript in the library at least twice, the grief in his chest is so heavy and just gets heavier and heavier as he watches his father dying and prays his brother comes home safe one day.

He has never felt so lost.

There is a certain comfort in seeing Wei WuXian is just as annoying and frivolous as always. Although, as Lan WangJi watches Wei WeXian flatter the girls as Wen Chao orders them all about, the grief in his stomach is pushed aside, just slightly, by some other feeling he doesn’t recognize because he’s never had need of it before. He truly can’t call himself a scholar anymore, because it doesn’t seem he knows anything at all.

Terror. Terror he recognizes. And frustration. Trapped in the cave of the Tortoise of Carnage, he feels the terror run screaming through his veins, and then the frustration when Wei WuXian just smiles and Lan WangJi isn’t able to read his smile at all. Doesn’t he get…? Doesn’t he know…?

How could he? Even Lan WangJi doesn’t know his own feelings. Why does he expect Wei WuXian—Wei Ying—to understand what he himself cannot?

All he can do is play a melody that is his heart on a string, and hope that Wei Ying can understand, even if just a little bit, how much Lan WangJi needs him to be alive. Not necessarily beside him, although that has become a consuming thought in Lan WangJi’s mind, but just safe and alive and out bothering the world in the way Wei Ying should be. When they are finally rescued from the cave of the Tortoise of Carnage, Wei Ying has long closed his eyes, and Lan WangJi sat beside him, hand on his chest just short of his injury, constantly feeling for the thud of his heart.

Is this how his father felt, he wonders, when he brought his mother back to live in the Cloud Recesses? Knowing that they would never be a proper married couple, but desperate to simply protect her life?

If that is the case, Lan WangJi is brilliantly aware of how his heart is saying.

His father dies. His brother is still missing. And Lotus Pier burns.

Wei Ying vanishes from the world.

Lan WangJi seeks knowledge. His fingers grow sore from playing Inquiry, but he can never find his answer. Where is Wei Ying? Where has he gone, so completely without a trace?

When Lan WangJi finds him, he wishes he could have brought Wei Ying back safe to the Cloud Recesses. Even if he had to keep him in a small cabin for the rest of their lives, hidden far back in the forest, it would be better than seeing the pain reflected in Wei Ying’s eyes, his smile finally cracked open and showing all the suffering inside.

Suddenly, knowledge is something Lan WangJi wishes he could abandon altogether. He does not wish to watch this war and know it is Wei Ying bringing up the rear, carnage and chaos and everything that did not exist in the teasing boy in the library pavillion. Why couldn’t those days have stretched on forever? What Lan WangJi wouldn’t do to bring them back.

When he speaks with Wei Ying now, he can tell that something has changed. Something more than the addition of Chenqing, something more fundamental, but he cannot figure out what it is because Wei Ying no longer allows himself to be read as he spirals further and further out of reach, out of control.

Lan WangJi tries to read him anyway. Pins Wei Ying’s hands and tastes his mouth and wonders if now he could run his fingers along the skin of Wei Ying’s face like the pages of a manuscript, but he wouldn’t find the same smile, his eyes are covered by the blindfold, and the ink-black hair always smells of the corpses he animates around him as he goes. And Lan WangJi still wants more, because there is not a version of Wei Ying he hasn’t yearned for, in some way or another.

He loves him, but he knows that Wei Ying will never be his, and he knows that Wei Ying is also already lost. He steals his one bitter kiss and then wishes he’d never had that moment of knowing what it felt like to have what he wanted.

The day wandering around Yiling is the same sort of true torture, but this time he actively seeks it out. He sits across from Wei Ying and studies the exhaustion written into the shadows of his face, the tangles of his hair, the slope of his shoulders. The Yiling Patriarch is pushing himself too far and the world is pushing back, and Lan WangJi doubts it will be Wei Ying who breaks first. Too much has happened too fast, and Lan WangJi can read this much at least—during the Sunshot Campaign, Wei Ying was their truest weapon, and now that it is over, the cultivation sects know that what he did to the Wens, Wei Ying could do to any of them. They think of him as a mad dog who is useful as long as pointed at the right person but is now off the leash. And Wei Ying doesn’t care to correct their perception. If Lan WangJi was a vocal person, maybe he would scream at the sect leaders to understand, to know that Wei Ying has only ever wanted to protect those who needed it and he wears the brand of the Wen clan as an eternal mark of that conviction. Those living under his protection now are no threat either. The child wrapped around Lan WangJi’s leg is proof enough. But Lan WangJi is not a vocal person. He sees the Yiling Patriarch return Wen Ning’s consciousness and feels chilled through at the idea Wei Ying has come so close to reversing death itself. With word of this, the world will just press harder and harder, terrified of what Wei Ying might set his mind to next, and Lan WangJi can’t see any way to stop it.

In the end, he can only try to stop it by placing himself between Wei Ying and the world. He is the only one still willing to stand there, alone and exhausted and hopeless. He loves Wei Ying, reads it in his heart, and tries to force the life back into him after the battle at the Nightless City, ignores it every time Wei Ying tells him to leave. He will not leave. He will not let Wei Ying be lost to him again. He speaks more sentences in a row than he ever has in his life, one endless whisper punctuated by Wei Ying weakly ordering him to leave, whispers about his mother and his father and his friends found in the manuscripts, about how he never hated Wei Ying the way people seemed to think he did, about how he raised the rabbits in Wei Ying’s absence, about how he was not so much angry as scared when his forehead ribbon came loose in Wei Ying’s hand, about how it felt to lose his father, about how it felt to lose Wei Ying, about how he loves him, how he will stay, how he will protect Wei Ying this time and the Wen clan in Yiling, how Wei Ying should just stop talking and focus on healing, except Wei Ying has never been able to stop talking and Lan WangJi wouldn’t want to change that. Because he loves the Wei Ying of the past, he loves him now, and he wouldn’t change anything about that. Not a thing.

There is just him between Wei Ying and the world, but in the end, he isn’t strong enough. He breaks, and his body breaks too—thirty-three whiplashes—but it’s nothing to the pain in his chest when he learns the Yiling Patriarch has died. He rushes to Burial Mound but there is nothing. Nothing. No smile bursting with laughter or bursting with pain. No brush of black robes or stray stands of black hair across tired eyes. Nobody calling his name.

The fact that Wei WuXian is gone from him doesn’t sink in as reality until he finds A-Yuan hidden in the tree, feverish and eyes puffy from crying. The child can’t even speak, just stares blankly when Lan WangJi asks him where Brother Wei is. Because Brother Wei is gone. He can’t be saved.

He stopped being able to be saved years ago.

Lan WangJi sits with A-Yuan in his lap and feels a few hot tears drip from his chin. Here is the only place he’ll be able to properly mourn. No one in the Cloud Recesses could possibly understand, as evidenced by the thirty-three healing scars on his back.

After maybe an hour of allowing himself to cry, Lan WangJi wipes his eyes and takes A-Yuan back to Gusu.

That night, he takes the Guqin out and plays Inquiry. Attempts to know. Attempts to seek.

Attempts to seek for thirteen years.

The flute melody is crude, the most you could expect from an instrument created spur of the moment, but Lan WangJi—HanGuang-Jun—hears the the sound of his heart on a string and knows it immediately. He catches the wrist of the young man who plays, and know it is Wei WuXian, the Yiling Patriarch, who gazes back at him.

Thirteen years shrink down to a single instant as Lan WangJi holds Wei WuXian firm and vows—silently, because he is a silent person—to never lose Wei Ying again.

It is odd, somedays, to reconcile his memories of the Wei Ying he fell in love with and the young man who sleeps tucked in his arms. Sometimes the two images layer on top of each other and the memory of a voice blends with the one he actually hears, and it takes a moment for the reality to sink in anew—that Wei Ying came back to him. Somewhat shorter, with a rounder face than Lan WangJi remembers, but still the same. In the dawn light that plays in dapples across the bed, Lan WangJi runs his fingers down the smooth page of Wei Ying’s cheek. He reads the sleepy and content smile, traces his eyes and nose and ears, and then follows messy hair, still ink-black, to the very tips. He buries his own nose in the tumbled tresses and smells soap and hints of lavender, the smell of him, the smell of home.

He reads Wei Ying slow and careful and devours every bit of information he can gather.

When Wei Ying wakes an hour later and stretches and smiles and tugs on Lan WangJi’s shoulders until he gives him the kiss he desires, Lan WangJi shuts his eyes and tries to memorize this kiss, as he has tried to memorize each and every one of them, because he has always been a seeker of knowledge and because, above all, he is still learning of this thing called happiness.

[bloojayoolie]

Click, Dogs, and Energy: ID 36887, @ 6 Yrs. Young, 52 lbs. Dreaming of Love in Manhattan AMAZING ANGIE Shyly sweet, a tail that constantly wags in friendship to new friends. A gentle, easy, middle aged lady. Lovely on leash, seems housetrained adores companionship. A volunteer favorite, "Princess!" TO BE KILLED – 8/11/2018 When Shakespeare wrote "A Midsummer Night's Dream" he could not have thought up a more gorgeous forest fairy. Or maybe he was thinking of Angie! This incredible brindle girl is the color of burnished woods, autumn leaves, and is just as warm of heart. She is shyly sweet, easy, gentle, calm and affectionate. She wants only to be by your side, to cuddle in at your feet, to get pets and hugs and attention. She seems housetrained too! So read what a favorite volunteer has to say about this lovely lady, and then consider fostering or adopting her and sweeping her away to your forest bower! 😊 A volunteer writes: “I love Angie's frosted little triangular face, her shiny copper eyes, her deep brown button chocolate ears and her magnificent tiger brindle coat. A forest fairy! One wonders who were the many ancestors who made her such a beauty. She is a petite gal, always waiting at her door, her eyes riveted to every passerby. She is easily leashed and strolls quite nicely around the block, not forgetting to do her business. Loose in the yard, Angie stays about her caretaker. She does not mind a pack of visitors joining us in our pen. Her tail wags a lot, she accepts caresses from each and everyone of them, she even lays by our feet for more bonding. She can sit for treats and will come when called. Angie takes time to warm up but when she does, she is all yours and will stay put for hours and hours, just content, silently to be in company. Angie is more of a "people" pooch who should likely be the only princess in the home to give you love. Come and meet Angie at the Manhattan Care Center. She dreams to be yours!” If you can foster or adopt this incredibly sweet girl, please PRIVATE MESSAGE our page or email us at MustLoveDogsNYC@gmail.com for assistance. ANGIE, ID # 36887 @ 6 Yrs. Old, 52 lbs. Manhattan ACC, Large Mixed Breed, Brown Brindle / White, Unaltered Female I came into the shelter as a agency on 03-Aug-2018. Behavior Assessment Date of intake:: 8/3/2018 Means of surrender (length of time in previous home):: Stray Date of assessment:: 8/5/2018 Look:: 1. Dog's eyes are averted, with tail wagging and ears back. Allows head to be held loosely in Assessor's cupped hands. Sensitivity:: 1. Dog stands still and accepts the touch, eyes are averted, and tail is in neutral position with a relaxed body posture. Dog's mouth is likely closed for at least a portion of the assessment item. Tag:: 1. Dog follows at the end of the leash, body soft. Paw squeeze 1:: 1. Dog gently pulls back his/her paw. Paw squeeze 2:: 1. Dog gently pulls back his/her paw. Flank squeeze 1:: Item not conducted Flank squeeze 2:: Item not conducted Toy:: 1. Minimal interest in toy, dog may smell or lick, then turns away. Summary:: Angie approached the assessor with a soft body. She was social throughout the assessment, allowed all handling, and displayed no concerning behaviors. Summary:: Based concerning behavior observed toward other dogs, (growling in passing, jumping on and growling during muzzled introduction) - Angie may succeed best as the only resident dog. Summary (1):: 8/3: When introduced to a male greeter dog, Angie growls through the gate. An off-leash interaction is not attempted at this time. Summary (2):: 8/6: Angie is muzzled before conducting an off leash introduction. Upon approach from the helper dog, Angie jumps on his back and begins to growl. ENERGY LEVEL:: We have no history on Angie so we cannot be certain of his behavior in a home environment. At the care center, she displays a medium level of activity. IN SHELTER OBSERVATIONS:: While Angie presents to be a challenge in the care center with her dog reactivity, she remains highly social when interacting with her human caretakers. Angie is playful, exuberant and actively seeks/solicits attention; she has displayed no handling concerns. BEHAVIOR DETERMINATION:: AVERAGE (suitable for an adopter with an average amount of dog experience) Behavior Asilomar: H - Healthy Recommendations:: Single-pet home,Recommend no dog parks Recommendations comments:: Single pet/no dog parks: Based concerning behavior observed toward other dogs, (growling in passing, jumping on and growling during muzzled introduction) - Angie may succeed best as the only resident dog. My medical notes are... Weight: 52 lbs Vet Notes 9/08/2018 DVM Intake Exam Estimated age: Estimated 4-8 years based on dentition and overall appearance Microchip noted on Intake? Scanned negative History : Stray, no health hx available Subjective: Alert, walks well on leash Observed Behavior - Wags tail, allows all handling Evidence of Cruelty seen - None Evidence of Trauma seen - None Objective BAR-H, MMs pink and moist, BCS 6/9 EENT: Eyes clear, ears clean, no nasal or ocular discharge noted Oral Exam: Moderate tartar PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: NSR, NMA, CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupnic ABD: Soft, non painful, no masses palpated, not distended U/G: Female, slightly pendulous mammary chains, mature vulva, no discharge or masses MSI: Crepitus palpable in right stifle. Ambulatory x 4. Skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat. CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities Rectal: Normal externally Assessment: 1. Osteoarthritis 2. Dental disease Prognosis: Good Plan: 1. Recommend regular dental cleanings and daily tooth brushing 2. Monitor for pain or lameness in right stifle, consider pain management as needed SURGERY: Okay for surgery 1088 10/08/2018 Hx: Scheduled for surgery today S: Energetic, runs around on leash O: Sniffling, reverse sneezing, snorting A: Early CIRDC P: Move to isolation, cancel surgery today -Doxycycline 225 mg PO SID x14 days -Cerenia 45 mg PO SID x4 days * TO FOSTER OR ADOPT * If you would like to adopt a dog on our “To Be Killed” list, and you CAN get to the shelter in person to complete the adoption process *within 48 hours of reserve*, you can reserve the dog online until noon on the day they are scheduled to die. We have provided the Brooklyn, Staten Island and Manhattan information below. Adoption hours at these facilities is Noon – 8:00 p.m. (6:30 on weekends) HOW TO RESERVE A “TO BE KILLED” DOG ONLINE (only for those who can get to the shelter IN PERSON to complete the adoption process, and only for the dogs on the list NOT marked New Hope Rescue Only). Follow our Step by Step directions below! *PLEASE NOTE – YOU MUST USE A PC OR TABLET – PHONE RESERVES WILL NOT WORK! ** STEP 1: CLICK ON THIS RESERVE LINK: https://newhope.shelterbuddy.com/Animal/List Step 2: Go to the red menu button on the top right corner, click register and fill in your info. Step 3: Go to your email and verify account Step 4: Go back to the website, click the menu button and view available dogs Step 5: Scroll to the animal you are interested and click reserve STEP 6 ( MOST IMPORTANT STEP ): GO TO THE MENU AGAIN AND VIEW YOUR CART. THE ANIMAL SHOULD NOW BE IN YOUR CART! Step 7: Fill in your credit card info and complete transaction Animal Care Centers of NYC (ACC) nycacc.org HOW TO FOSTER OR ADOPT IF YOU *CANNOT* GET TO THE SHELTER IN PERSON, OR IF THE DOG IS NEW HOPE RESCUE ONLY! You must live within 3 – 4 hours of NY, NJ, PA, CT, RI, DE, MD, MA, NH, VT, ME or Norther VA. Please PM our page for assistance. You will need to fill out applications with a New Hope Rescue Partner to foster or adopt a dog on the To Be Killed list, including those labelled Rescue Only. Hurry please, time is short, and the Rescues need time to process the applications.

[winchestersandsuperheroes]

Just My luck (Leonard Snart x Reader): Chapter Three

Pairing: (Eventual) Leonard Snart x Reader

Words: 1697

Summary/Author's Note: This chapter takes place in the episode Revenge of the Rogues. It's a shorter chapter. This chapter shows more of the reader's relationships with team flash. I wanted to leave you all with something since I haven't updated in a week or two. More coming soon.

The Apartment

Is there some unwritten rule that criminals need to ruin my good night’s sleep? I’m actually curious. 3:47am, that’s what the clock said. Could they at least wait a couple hours, after the coffee shops have started to open? Is that too much to ask?  3:47am, I should be asleep, my phone should not be ringing. I should really learn to turn that thing on silent at night, but alas, I am too nice of a person to do that.

The caller id read Joe, which probably meant a case. “Hello?” I answered the phone. “Hey Y/N, we had a break in at a customs warehouse downtown. It’s a weird one,” Joe started. “It’s always a weird one when I get a call. Just once I’d love to get a call about a regular B&E or a guy who skipped bail. Those were the days,” I joked. Joe laughed “You would get bored.” He retorted. “That’s probably true,” I conceded.

  “Barry will be by to pick you up in a few. I called you first so you would have a few minutes to get ready before he came speeding into your home,” Joe explained. “I appreciate it. Tell him to bring coffee!” I said getting out of my bed. “Will do, see you in a few,” he hung up after that. I quickly got dressed and my hair flattened down to a non-trollish state. I was lacing up my boots when Barry came flying through the door.

“I’m starting to regret giving you an emergency key. You don’t seem to know what defines an emergency,” I joked continuing with my laces. “It’s a matter of convenience. If I’d knocked you would have had to get up and get the door, I just saved you the trouble,” He said in return.

“Yeah, yeah,” I shook my head. I then noticed the coffee cups in his hand. Precious coffee. He noticed me eyeing the coffee, and handed it over. “You are seriously the best person I know,” I said before taking a sip of the caffeine filled deliciousness. “This right here,” I pointed to the cup in my hand, “This is why we are friends.”

“I kind of feel like you’re using me for my super speed coffee fetching skills sometimes,” He joked. “Definitely,” I replied getting up.

  The Crime Scene

“Are you sure nothing’s missing?” Joe asked the beat cop standing next to us. “That’s what the supervisor said. I can check again,” he replied before walking off. “Seriously the perp broke through that steel door to steal nothing. That feels like a lot of work for nothing… unless…” I started theorizing. “Unless what?” Joe asked. “The intention wasn’t to steal anything. It was just for attention, maybe someone in particular’s,” I eyed Barry, making sure Joe saw my look but Eddie didn’t.

It wasn’t the most farfetched assumption that someone could be trying to draw out the flash. “Bare,” Joe started walking towards Barry, Eddie and I followed suit.

“Hey, uh well, the breakage indicates that the door somehow had zero viscal elasticity when it hit the ground,” Barry told us. I did not understand his science-speak, but apparently Joe was on the same page, because he asked “What does that mean to normal people?” “Sorry, uh, the steel shattered like glass,” He explained in terms we could understand.

“How is that possible?” I asked, as he stared at a piece of debris. “It was frozen,” he finally answered. Son of- “Snart,” Joe spoke up. Barry nodded “He’s back,”

“I thought Snart was some world class thief. All these expensive cars, he didn’t take any of them. Doesn’t make sense,” Eddie contemplated. I made eye contact with Barry, I knew we were thinking the same thing. “Eddie, put out an APB on Snart,” Joe told Eddie. “You got it,” Eddie replied before walking off. Barry started to get up.

“Snart wasn’t her to steal anything,” Barry spoke up once Eddie was out of ear shot. “He was setting a trap,” Joe agreed. “For me, and by me I mean…” Barry was cut off by Joe. “Yeah, we know what you meant.”  

  Star Labs

“Captain Cold is back?” Cisco asked when we walked in. “It would seem so,” I replied in grumpy voice. “Someone’s grumpy,” Cisco observed. “Someone had to wake up at 3:47am because of that bastard. I can’t decide what’s worse that or the whole taking me hostage thing,” I said. “Waking up at 3am was worse than being taken hostage?” he asked. “We both know I’m not a morning person,” I yawned looking for the coffee maker while the rest of the team discussed Snart.

I was half listening to everyone’s conversation as I poured myself another cup of coffee. It was now about 7:30am, and I very much wanted to go back to sleep. No one should be awake this early it’s inhumane.

I overheard something about Barry not helping to catch Snart, odd, I mean I know the Reverse Flash is a really bad guy and all, but I’d think we’d still make time to fight off the other bad guys. So that’s when I started paying attention to the conversation.

“Yeah we can definitely come up with ways to neutralize Snart,” Cisco said in response to Wells’s idea for Wells and Cisco to work with the police to catch Snart.

“I can start working on tracking him down in the meantime,” I suggested. “Yeah, about that… Joe and I talked about it and we’re taking you off the case,” Barry countered. “What?! Are you serious?!” I was not about to sit on the sidelines. “Last time you tailed Snart you were taken hostage,” He started to explain. “Yeah, for like five minutes, and I was fine, well aside from my hand, from punching him in the face… but other than that, not a scratch. And I won’t let him get the drop on me again,” I argued.

“It’s not worth the risk. Besides, Joe already called a friend of his to take over the finding Snart part of the investigation, a bail bondsman Donny, I think,” Barry seemed to be staying firm to this Y/N on the sidelines thing, but I was not having it. And besides, Donny was an adequate bails bondsman at best, there was no way he’d be able to track down Snart.

“Dog the Bounty Hunter is gonna catch Snart, yeah right? Come on, you know I can find him.” I objected. “I don’t doubt your investigative skills, you’re the best PI in Central City, but it’s about your safety. Please just back off of this one for me,” He pleaded.

“Fine,” I verbally conceded. It was a complete lie. There was no way I was backing off of this case. “In that case, I’m going to go home and go take a nap, because I got up way way too early this morning,” I said before quickly exiting the building.

Once I was outside of Star Labs, I took out my phone dialed Felicity’s number. “Hey, it’s me. I need a favor.”

  The Apartment

“Thank you so much, and do you think you could maybe not tell Barry about this?” I thanked Felicity over the phone as I opened the file she sent me on my laptop. “And why exactly would you not want him to know about me helping you on a case?” she asked in return.

“Well you see…” I started. “Barry doesn’t want you on the case because it’s Snart, and he’s afraid for your safety,” she finished for me. Damn that girl’s intuition.

“Are you sure you’re not psychic?” I joked. “Nope, just your super smart friend who also worries about your safety,” here we go… I sighed. “I will be fine, I promise to be extra careful, just recon.”

“Okay, but I expect you to check in. If you don’t call me before eight tonight, I’m calling Barry,” I rolled my eyes at her mother hen behavior. “Fine, I promised to check in,” I replied.

“Awesome, then I will talk to you later girly!” She said before hanging up the phone.

I looked over the file on my screen stopping at the name Saints and Sinners; a bar that, according to this file, Snart frequented. It seemed like a good place to start poking around. And I knew just the angle to play.

  Saints and Sinners

This place was the exact depiction of a dive bar. This was definitely not a place you would find me hanging out in by choice. It was still early afternoon, so the bar was pretty much empty except for the bartender and a couple biker types that eyed me on my way in. This ought to be fun.

I walked straight up to the bartender. She looked at me with a bored expression. “What can I get for ya?” she asked me with a hint of annoyance in her voice. “I’m actually looking for someone. I was hoping maybe you can help me,” I was using a superficial cheerleader type voice.

Today’s character of choice was the ex-hook up character, I’d played this one a thousand times, it felt somewhat demeaning, but it usually worked. I was even dressed in character, with too tight jeans, heels, and a low cut top, definitely not my usual style.

“There’s this guy I hooked up with awhile back and I never got his number, but someone told me hangs out here,” I started. “You’re gonna have to be more specific darlin’,” She said impatiently. “His name is Leonard something, he has a really weird last name, I think it started with an ‘S’. Small, Snail, Sport, Smart, no wait, Snart! Yeah, Leonard Snart. Have you seen him around here lately?”

“I think you have the wrong bar sweetie, I’ve never heard that name before,” I could tell she was lying. “Are you sure? I was really hoping to see him again,” I tried again.

“I had no idea I made that kind of impression on you, Y/N,” The voice came from behind me, I knew that voice. “Son of a bitch,” I said dropping the fake voice.

[leaveharmony]

I told ya  the shot with Shinsuke was high-water for pictures of me!  XD

*giggling*  In my defense I wasn’t expecting to take one.

So my day!  Was pretty amazing!  I’ve gotta cut this cos it’s gonna be long :D

I knew Mick (+Noelle) and Bret were gonna be at comic-con this weekend, but as it was so close to the house show we went to last weekend and I had a sore back all week, plus mum's knee was acting up, we weren't sure we'd be able to go.  But last night we concluded that it was a chance we likely wouldn't ever get again, and what the hell.  I pulled my hardcover 1st edition of his first book off the shelf where it's been kept with the others for what...18 years? and packed it up for the trip.  Probably due to all the other distractions it didn't seem as heavy as a 500+ page monster ought to have lol

We actually had a train adventure beforehand, b/c GO transit has expanded service a bit to Barrie, so, there was an 11:02 (or something) train down.  It was literally cheaper for both of us to go down AND BACK on the train than it was for a one way bus trip, just had to  get to Barrie first.  Plus, c'mon, it was a train.  Lol.  I haven't been on a train since kindergarten.  Mum kept giggling her head off every time the whistle blew at a crossing.  We sat facing the wrong way on the trip down, which really made me dizzy so we switched it up for the way home...

Honestly the only minor hiccup in the journey was when we got to Union station, with all the construction, it was a touch confusing finding which way to head to  the PATH over to the convention centre.  As always, a lovely TTC employee guided our way.  Contrary to experiences w/ Fan Expo in the past, the entrance off the PATH walkway into the convention centre proper were actually open today, so we didn't have to go outside in the wind & snow at all.  Usually it's a long wind down a big ramp and then down some stairs, across a little...sort of green sidewalky area and then down more stairs, then walking a few blocks to the spiral parking garage, but this was like...a less than five minute walk.  Aces.

We actually got a little more lost on the convention floor than we had at Union station lol...I ah, temporarily misinterpreted the floor plan map, so we took a slight detour on the way to the signing area.  Mum made me take a picture of a guy dressed like Alf, tacky tourist shirt and all.  I saw a few genderbent Road Hoggs, at least one Lara Croft, three separate and distinct Negans, a few dozen Harleys, a couple in really well-done Skyrim armour...some people went full-steampunk, bustle skirts and all, there was somebody with a baby dressed like pikachu lol.  Many cosplayers.  Bless their hearts, I wouldn’t have the energy.

The only other time we've been to the winter comic-con as opposed to Fan Expo was in like 2003, when we went to go see RVD - it was a much smaller area in a different location and pretty sparsely attended by comparison, though this one on its busiest day was still prolly only half as crowded as FE would be on that saturday.  We went by a few ppl with wheelchairs and mobility scooters who were probably finding it much less of a chore than  usual to navigate because there was actually space to...well, give them space.   Anyway my point being, I got a bit confused because the signing area tends to change from year to year and sometimes even day to day.  This time though it was over by the food court area (I went in the exact opposite direction at first lol)

So we got in Mick's line :)  He and Noelle were sharing a table, next to Bret Hart and uh...somebody I had no idea who the hell he was.  Looked like a default video game character though.  Brunette, white, a little stubble.  Name entirely escapes me. 

A con-worker asked if we were doing a selfie or an autograph, reason being, for autographs you wrote your name on a sticky so you wouldn't have to spell it out to him when you got up there, just show him the sticky - this has gotta be the most genius idea I've ever heard lol B/c when I say ‘spontaneous’ I mean ‘prepared for at least three days in advance,’ on the off chance we made it down to see him, I made a little santa-hat ornament for him on Thursday night.  Bret was away on a break when we got in our line, which moved very slowly because, well.  You'll see.   Another con worker was keeping the line to the left, occasionally walking up and down singing, wearing elf-ear cuffs lol.  I think her name was Bernadette but I'm not 100% certain, it definitely started with a B.  She was, appropriately enough for the ear jewelry, sort of the selfie-elf, someone to take the pictures w/ guest cameras.

As we got closer up it became more apparent why we were moving a little slower than I've previously experienced in such lines - b/c Mick Foley is like...the undisputed champion of making ppl feel like he's known you all your life, and did a lot of chatting w/ everybody who went up.

When it came to our turn, for instance, he was glancing at his phone - he immediately explained at some length that “mom” (I'm assuming he here meant Collette, b/c my father also refers to mum as “mom” when I'm included in the conversation, and Noelle kinda was - but I suppose it may have been his own mother, or mother in law) was having some heavy-drama travel fun of her own lol.  I guess she told him “I had to take a TRAIN!” making it sound, as Mick put it, “Like she was on a frontier trek or a world-tour on the orient express,” but what she actually meant was she had to catch the same shuttle he'd ridden “like 400 times” in the past lol.  He said there would be a lengthy “you wouldn't BELIEVE...” story about it later.  “One for the next book!” I said, laughing.   He segued easily into a hello and a what can I do for you?  So I handed over the book, which was still full of place-markers and dog-ears from the last time I read it. 

He took care of the signing business, and then told me he liked all of my jewelry and stuff (I actually went light on it today).  Noelle chimed in that she did too (she is such a sweetheart).  He summoned over Bernadette to make sure I saw her elf-ear cuffs and light-up necklace lol.

Then he pulled out a little yellow coin purse from his fanny pack (his fanny pack!) asking if I wanted to see his ring.  I sort of assumed it would be like, the HOF ring, and said it was probably fancier than mine.  “I doubt it, it's in here with two of my teeth!” he said cheerfully, and produced instead a ‘horseshoe ring’ made at Santa's Village lol.  He was certain to note that this was not the Santa's Village here in Ontario, but one in the 'states (I found this deeply endearing b/c who the hell knows about our rinky dink little santa's village who didn't grow up here?  As a child on their kid-sized motorized tricycles, I once mistook the handlebar reverse lever for the gas and promptly drove backwards, up over a curb.  I lost that race.  I should have told him that one lol).  Noelle was laughing the whole time b/c she didn't realize he kept the ring with his dental plate.   His ring story was, that I guess when Christy Hemme was getting married she wanted, coincidentally, to give horseshoe rings away as favors to the guests but didn't know where to find them - he happened to overhear, “Did you say you were looking for horseshoe rings?”  “You've come to the right guy!” I volunteered.  So he got in touch w/ his peeps at Santa's village and they sent a whole box of the things.  lol.   “It's getting a little rusty now,” he lamented fondly, spinning it on his finger.   “Yeah, cos you keep it in with your teeth!” said Noelle, still laughing. “That was actually the perfect segueway though,” I said, “Cos I made you something silly.” I handed over the ornament in its little santa-decorated bag (I had one left over that I'd made last christmas, somehow it never got put away, funny how things work out).  He immediately said he loved the bag & asked where I'd found it, I told him I made that too.  He actually asked me if he could open it lol.  I said, of course!

I believe he was quite pleased with the santa-hat ornament lol.  He said, “This is going right in the Christmas Room when we get home tomorrow.”  “Ooh, you made the Christmas Room!” said Noelle. He tucked it back in the bag and couldn't remember how the tie had gone, so I was trying to sort of explain...lol...we were all watching raptly as he tried to re-tie the little bow.  Noelle teasingly offered to help.  “He'll get it,” I said, “I believe in him.”  He did get it, or near enough   <3  and put it in his fanny pack - tbh I'm as proud of making the fanny pack as I am of making the Christmas Room XD

He asked if there was anything else he could do for me and I thought, “Welp!” I explained that I had a friend in the states, who wanted to be a wrestler, and who struggled with depression, like I do, and I thought that maybe he could sign something for her and it might cheer her up a little.  He asked how long I'd/we'd had trouble & I told him...he talked a little about how after so many concussions he'd had some difficulties that way too, but, it can get better.  So hang in there - both of us, hang in there.  “That's not really medical advice, but,” he grinned.  “I'll take it anyway,” I said.   He had a few pictures there for signing - he immediately pulled a Dude Love.  “It's gotta be Dude Love,” he explained.  “Nothing says ‘cheer up’ like Dude Love.” So @yungcrybby-anonymousbosch, I ah, I have a signed Dude Love to send you.  lol.  <3

(I blurred the name on the scan ‘cos you may not want it Generally Known - actually since I didn’t have a sticky I think he just took his best guess and made it a bit deliberately shaky so, if you squint hard enough it could say anything you wanted it to lol)

(Noelle pointed out how cool the coke bottle shades w/ the RAW logo were.  I believe he said they were ‘groovy’)

He asked if we were there for a selfie too - I had trouble stammering an answer b/c of course per the vulture policy that the con operates under, y'have to pay for a selfie separately and b/c we'd gone down last-minute there was no time to grab any more cash than what we had on hand (nor would I have, as I always say, no picture with me in it is worth paying for lol).  He took my meaning though, and made a Nick Fury executive decision about the separate fee, summoning Bernadette again lol.  As I say he’s quite chatty, and at this point got distracted w/ a quick update from another con-worker RE: something he’d sent him to find out, I think.  In the interim we chatted w/ Noelle a little, she asked us if we lived in Toronto.  “We’re up north, actually,” I said, “We actually did take the train!” Anyway, HENCE, why I now have two goofy selfies w/ my mum and Mick Foley, hardcore legend and lord of the sweethearts.   I just realized that it immortalizes my pink kinesio tape lol.  And sensei kinda made the picture too, via my Takeover TO shirt.  Joe is hidden by purse straps though.  No wonder he’s always so angry.

As mum was checking out the selfie w/ Bernadette and stowing her camera, he quietly asked if he could ask about my hand.   “Oh, it's congenital,” I explained.  He pointed out one of the people in the line who I'd actually noticed before, cos he'd gone up to talk to Bernadette at one point, in a wheelchair and missing part of one arm as well - Mick must have talked to him a few times already cos he explained it'd had been a bout of childhood meningitis, resulting in multiple amputations.  I'd actually assumed that when I saw the guy go by, having seen the signs before.   He said, he'd been a little uncertain personally when he decided to cut his hair, 'cos it was the first time his ear had been really exposed/on display in a decade or so.  But, he figured, that differences are important.  “That's not professional advice either,” he said.  I hugged him a little lol.  He said he appreciated us coming all the way down on the train just to see him (I didn’t think he’d even heard that bit) Just as he was turning back to his table and we were saying goodbye, I had to do it - I said “Hey - do me a solid: don't let Smackdown have Nakamura!” He started laughing and noted that might be beyond his pay grade XD So we said our goodbyes to him and Noelle and ...just yay.  :)

Primary mission completed, we went to find something to drink, 'cos we were both pretty parched by that point.  Ended up at one of the quieter food booths, a sorta coffee/sandwich kinda deal.  I had a turkey/tomato/spinach sandwich that I would like to pay special tribute to because it was so fucking good.  lol.  I will love you forever, sandwich, couldn't have made it without ya.

There was a train home at 4:28 but we weren't entirely sure if we'd be able to make it, the alternative being a bus at 7:15.  So we wandered around looking at various booths and things for a while.  Wasn't much there I needed, though it's always interesting to look at stuff.  My nerd ass ended up buying a Sailor Moon pill case, at least 50% because the packaging was in japanese lol.  I bought a cameo sugar skull pendant, too.  Idk where the mental disconnect happened cos I intended to grab a red one to match my Nakamura stuff and ended up like, lizard-braining and taking purple instead.  I guess my heart wanted purple today & overruled the hand.  IT'S STILL NEAT. We also went looking for a sorta...it's like a sized-up card protector, for 9x11's or whatever the size of the Dude Love picture is lol.  I didn't want to put it in my backpack unprotected cos it 100% would have gotten beaten to hell in there, especially w/ like 5lbs of Foley antecdotes to contend with.  It’s win-win cos I can mail it that way, too.  We tried one place first & they didn’t have one, but drew us a map on the con floor plan to someone who did hahaha.  So we had a side-quest, to follow, too.

We did, actually, end up making the early train home...I can't tell you what luxury it was to be home by the time the bus would have been -leaving-

But yeah...yeah.  That was a hell of a nice day.

[justalittlebeatendown-blog]

Look at this. This one here, standing on a bridge. You wearing your leather jacket over your dress in the mid-summer sunset because your shoulders hadn’t grown cold yet. And me, wearing my heart on my sleeve. It was a new look for me, and the bright crimson blood pumping off my cuff complimented your purse. Look at this. The one at that party, the first time I kissed you in public. You were so shocked you pulled away. I guess some part of you knew. Like the last will of a cosmic magnet feeling its poles reverse because all hell was about to freeze over, the sun was about to shine at a different angle, we were going to fall in love with each other and the Leafs would win the Stanley cup. That last will of the natural order, of business as usual. No one else in the room felt it, but you did. You should have stayed away, but by then my eyes were already calling you back like a cell phone in a dead zone with something to prove. Look at this. Six months later, in front of the Eiffel tower. Yeah, the Eiffel fucking Tower. I never told you I’d been there 3 other times with 3 other women. I didn’t want to, because I wanted to forget about that. I wanted to love you like there had been nothing before you. Like I’d been limping around since the first tadpole organism crawled out on to the mud, and you were the day that God came along and created the sun. Not something I would have expected, but it gave me a reason to get up in the morning. Look at these. My reflection in the train window, Northern Ontario rushing past like it was trying to get away from me. Tears streaming down my face as I told you I was sorry for the things I’d said the night before. The countless fights piling up behind the closet door of my mind before the skeletons finally busted it down and I told you I didn’t want to end up like my father. The things I’d said, no one deserved. Not even after what you hadn’t done to me yet. You never knew, but that was the first time I realized I wanted to marry you. Like a middle-aged myself was reaching back through the years and tapping me on the tear-stained shoulder, telling me to treat this woman with respect. She’s going to need someone to grab her that tissue when she catches you telling your son to always treat his mommy like a princess, because daddy found her in a castle and he looked at her like maybe she was magic. Look at this. This little one, that you probably don’t even remember. Cruising through the woods in your 4x4, trying to drop hints that I was too far past caring about that you wanted me to take you camping. Telling me this was your favourite song and the trees on this road made you feel like you were in a storybook. It’s Towers by Bon Iver, and I’m listening to it now as I write this. And in this moment, I would still give anything for one more night with you alone in a little tent. Just us and the stars to keep us company. No distance to break apart or ghosts to come between. Now look at this. The one you tore up. The one you wouldn’t smile for. Walking back to my car like a GI to a transport that was already under fire but I knew that I’d signed the papers. Maybe, I thought, you would write to me from the edge of the world. I told you I needed time. You told me I was full of shit. I don’t feel full of really anything anymore, so I guess we were both right. Look at this, if you can. I know its hard, but still not as rough as your palm across my cheek. It’s alright, I deserved it. I could sketch this one from memory because that look burned in to my mind like a nitrate flash and when I go to sleep I can still see it developing in the dark room behind my eyes. Such fire in your gaze that I almost thought your tears would start to evaporate on your cheeks. Instead you just collapsed in my arms like a demolishing cathedral that hadn’t realized we’d all given up on religion and I held you until the sun broke over us tangled on the couch like the remnants of a ruined atrium trying to fuse our foundations back together. Funny, now that analogy just reminds me how much I hate architecture. Keep looking, you know we’re getting close. At this one, at the airport. I suppose the lighting looked a bit different from your angle. My fingers slipping through your hair, the rest of you just slipping through my fingers. Detaching myself from you that last time felt like the last tree in the last forest being pulled out by the roots and dragged off to the woodchipper. You can walk among the barren land now and build that country home you always wanted. Your dogs will run and your kids will chase them. Just don’t tell Evelyn that you kept the one tree out back with her name carved in to it. Here’s a new one, but I want you to look at it. You only saw it through your phone screen, each new text message sliding in to life like swords in the hands of a blind assistant working their way in to the magic coffin of a suicidal magician. My voice catching like a fish on a 50, 000 mile line, I asked you through the hook in my heart “I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you did.” The truth is I wanted to hear you tell me anything else on the planet. But like Ahab on the bow of a battleship staring over the edge of the earth, You took hold of the last tin-can lifeline I had…and pulled. You remember this last one. Look at it again, for me. Five months without seeing your face and the only thing that looked wrong was your smile. Painted on like a porcelain doll in the classroom reserved for the violent kids, it didn’t flicker or fade, you could just tell you didn’t want to be there. I didn’t yell or scream, you remember that. My mind was busy saving snapshots of the exact curve of your lips, the small hairs that stuck out behind your ears, the green-amber sunburst colour of your eyes. The little details i’d come close to forgetting, and that I had been longing so deeply to see again. I knew this would be my only chance to save them, and add these snapshots to my collection. You can stop looking now, I’ve got nothing left. Nothing but this photo album of our life. These old Polaroids are losing colour fast, and the glue won’t keep them in place much longer. Soon it will be gone, like the last page you tore out when you drove away that day. But even though they’re fading to blurry white canvases that you can’t recognize anymore, my mind has kept them for the day you choose to come back and have a glimpse. … Now look at this.

The last thing I ever wrote, for someone a long time ago.

[artificialqueens]

"Ugly" Chapter [3/?] (Witney) - Queenie

AN: Willam is facing his demons…well, some of them, Courtney gets her hair done and Alaska may or may not make an appearance. Anyways, I’m not good at these so I just hope ya’ll enjoy the chapter :)

-Willam-

“Ant, what’s goin on? I haven’t heard from you in days”, I flop down onto my couch and turn the speakerphone on, placing my cell down onto the coffee table as I flip through a tabloid „I thought you were dead.“

„Well I could have been, bitch, that night had me reconsider many life choices.“, he laughs „Like becoming friends with you, asshole.“

„Took you long enough.“, I joke and toss the magazine next to my phone onto the table.

„You realise who your real friends are, when you disappear for a few days and nobody calls to check on you.“

He is still joking around but I can’t help but feel a sting of guilt for not checking in on him.

„Doesn’t matter though“, he continues lightly „I’m alive and well. Also I’ve been more concerned with your whereabouts. If I hadn’t been to your flat to check if Warner was still alive and seen that his bowls had been filled recently I would be on my way to report your inconsiderate ass missing right now.“

„You also opened my mail, you dog.“

„Yeah…sorry `bout that. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t involved in anything illegal“, there is a pause and I can hear heavy breathing and a door slamming „More illegal than the ususal stuff I mean.“

„Find anything interesting?“, I cast a glance at the huge pile of mostly unopened mail on the little stand next to my front door. Reading mail usually resulted in me having to spend the night drinking to forget about all the red numbers spinning in my head.

„I saw that we have to go celebrate tonight.“

I raise an eyebrow as I get up and move over to the kitchen with the vague intention of making coffee.  „And why is that? Did I happen to win the lottery without even playing?“

“Something like that…wait”, Ant says, half laughing in disbelief „Do you really not know what I mean?“

“I wouldn’t ask if I did now, would I?”, I shot back, slightly annoyed that he wouldn’t just spit it out.

“No girl, but this is insane!” he clears his throat. „Will, you’re going on tour!“

“Bitch, how much did you smoke today? It’s not even noon.”

„I’m not joking! Look at your god damn mail, I left the envelope on top. You’re gonna freak, girl!“, he yells through the speaker and I raise my hands in defeat, even though he can’t see it.

„Whoa, calm down.“, unwillingly I leave the kitchen and pick up the large cream colored envelope. It’s obviously been opened and its contents are crinkled as if they‘ve been stuffed back into it without great care. I pull out two official looking pages of paper and immediately notice the small logo printed on the head of the letter reading ‘COLUMBIA‘.

„Is this what I think it fucking is? Holy shit!“, now I’m yelling, too, hurriedly scanning the paper.

               „…Miss Belli…pleased to tell you…evaluation of your work…the label decided…joining the worldwide tour…awaiting your answer…“

„It’s crazy that they want me now!“

„I know! How did you not know?“, Ant is freaking out and I can imagine him sitting in his upstairs bedroom shivering with excitement. „And how fucking cool is it, that it’s Courtney’s tour of all people?!“

I freeze. Surely I’d heard him wrong.

„Excuse me?“

Ant turns silent suddenly, and I stare at the phone across the room, waiting.

“Anthony? Who is it I’m going on tour with?” My voice is harsher now, and my fist tightens around the envelope in my hand, crumpling it.

“It’s Courtney, Will.” Ant says with a sigh as if he’s explaining a basic math equation, “You know, the one who’s gettin‘ the coin now?”

The envelope slides from my hand and onto the floor, and I fly over to the phone, grabbing it off the table and taking it off speaker. I‘m breathing heavily into the phone, listening to Ant, telling me to calm down.

“Why?!” I shout, “Why her? Why now?!”

“What’s it to you? Have you seen how much they wanna pay you, girl? You’ll never have to work a day in your life again.” Ant speaks quickly, hoping to get it all out without me interrupting him with screams or cussing. Apparently he isn’t fully grasping how much I can’t do this and It’s making me furious.

„Ant listen to me!“ I growl into the speaker. „Courtney Act is the last person I want to spend months and months travelling the world with, no matter the pay! You know what she fucking did to me, how can you even think I would agree to this shit?!“

“I’m sorry, girl. What can I do? I thought you needed the money, I read your mail.” He doesn’t sound remotely sorry. Typical.

I find myself sitting back down slowly, pulling the phone from my ear and letting it drop onto the couch. I don’t even say goodbye, I don’t know what to say.

What happened yesterday with that blonde girl and Courtney on the radio, it must have been a warning sign. I should have taken it more seriously, paid more attention. I should have made it clear to everyone that I don’t want to see her ever again. Maybe Ant would have thrown the letter out before I’d gotten the chance to read it.

I just can’t do it. I’d have to see her after all this time, look her in the eyes, smile for pictures with her, pretend that we’re friends and that everything will be okay.

But it won’t be, because she broke all her promises to me, and I will never forgive her for that.

-Courtney-

“I don’t know about this.” I sigh, closing my eyes and feeling hands tug at my hair and brushes swipe across my face in unison. I‘m so used to this everyday that I‘ve fallen asleep many times in the make-up chair. My stylists are so great that they could get me ready while I‘m laying down, drooling on myself.

“What are you so worried about?” My hair stylist Delta asks and drains my head in hairspray once again. She is the only person I trust near my precious blond hair.

“Things didn’t end well with us, our last conversation was all yelling and screaming.” I shake the memories out of my head, opening my eyes back up and looking upwards, feeling my make-up artist, a tall man named Sutan, apply liner onto my waterline.

“Maybe you should call her before you see her.” Delta says, her voice raspy. She has huge boobs and hair the color of a red velvet cupcake, her attitude is always sarcastic on the verge to bitchy. I had loved her instantly the minute she’d almost fainted because of the poor condition my hair had been in before she’d gotten her fingers on it, and now I consider her one of my closest friends.

“And say what?” I laugh, holding my phone to my ear mockingly. “Oh hey Will, can’t wait to see you and have lots of tension with you!”

Delta and Sutan exchange a look and a smirk, “You mean sexual tension.”

My smile falters slightly and I shake my head, lowering the phone. “I doubt it.”

Delta laughs, “Yeah, right!“

“Okay, yeah! Sex was something we were really good at, but that doesn’t change the fact that she hates me and thinks I fucked her over or whatever.” I shrug, fiddling with the rings on my fingers. “Jesus, I’m fucking 24 years old, and she still turns me into a goddamn teenager.”

“So what did happen?” Delta asks carefully, as Willam is a subject that I‘m never willing to talk about, and now that she’s actually got me speaking about her, maybe they can get the full scoop.

I frown, “We drifted apart, and then I met somebody else.”

“Ouch.” Sutan whispers, only to receive a punch to the arm from Delta immediately.

“I mean, it was going on six months since I last saw Willam, months since I last spoke to her, and then I met Jack and he was there and he had no issue trusting me like Willam did. Rightfully of course. So Willam and I were long over by the time I met him, but that didn’t matter. Willam’s always been a bit of a drama queen.”

“What would you have done, if the roles were reversed?” Sutan asks softly, putting his brush down and lightly running his fingers over my finished, silk straight hair.

“Oh, she met plenty of girls before I met this one guy. Plenty of girls.” I shake my head, standing up from my chair. “I don’t wanna talk about her.”

“Alright, Court. We’ll love you even if you don’t give us juicy details about your dramatic ex.” Delta smiles, tucking a brush back into her brush roll, turning to hug me.

I hug back tightly, my smile hard. “Love you, too.”

“I like the change. Darker blond suits you.” Sutan says, speaking of my new hair color. It will be a bit of a shock for all of those who are used to my white-blond hair, but I‘d wanted to go a couple of shades darker, to a honey blond. Something a little different.

“Thank you, as always. You guys are the best.” I smile and allow Sutan to bend down and peck my cheek before I grab my bag and move toward the door.

“Tell Willam we say hi!” Sutan yells out, and I manage to flip him my well-manicured middle finger before exiting the room. I‘m about a foot down the hall when I remember that I‘ve left my manager behind.

“Michelle!” I shout out, watching her jump in her chair where she’s fallen asleep waiting for me.

“Oh. I like it, looks nice.” She nods in appreciation of my hair, standing up with a yawn.

“So while you spent the day pampering yourself,” She begins to walk, pulling out her phone. “I got a call from someone called Anthony who said he’s a friend of Willam. Apparently, she threw a fit and didn’t want to join the tour.”

“Not surprising. Have you met her?” I smirk, shrugging a shoulder.

“Thankfully, no.” Michelle rolls her dark eyes, “She’s a piece of work, that one is. Had to spend a whole day convincing her personally and pay her practically double to get her to shut up and agree to the tour. We would‘ve gotten her pretty cheap as it was, so I suppose it doesn’t make that much of a difference. Point is, we got ‘er. She‘s flying in next week.”

“Joy.” I say dryly, putting my sunglasses on as we approach the doors.

“Hey,” Michelle grabs my arm and pulls me back, forcing me to look at her. “You’re still okay with this, right? You won’t have a mental breakdown after two months and call off the tour?”

“Yes. I know what I can and can’t handle, thank you.” I’m annoyed, and yank my arm out of her hand. She doesn’t look convinced.

“I’ll tell Adore to make sure there’s enough space between the buses and hotel rooms. Can’t use a murder investigation on this tour.” She begins typing on her phone again immediately, walking away from me without another word.

I stare after her for a second before running to catch up and walk next to her.

“This tour really is quite a brilliant idea. I just don’t want you getting all worked up over a girl that you had a fling with in the past. You’re not that same Courtney anymore. Remember that.” Michelle continues, looking up from her phone. She wraps her arm around my shoulders tightly, hugging me close to her, and I melt a little bit.

Michelle has been there since the moment I‘d gotten home that fateful day. She‘d been waiting in my aunt’s brownstone in Brooklyn when I’d gotten back from a gig at the bar. After introducing herself as “a friend of Mike”, one of the people I’d been in contact with at Columbia, she told me that she wanted to manage me, that she knew it from the moment she heard my voice on the demo I’d sent. Michelle said that she always told Mike to let her know the minute he heard something interesting, and Mike pulled through for her.

She‘d wanted me that badly, and she‘d made me outrageous promises, told me that she would make me a worldwide star. She had kept all those promises. She’d also promised that she would always take care of me, and I trust her with my life. She isn’t the warmest person in the world, she’s always very professional, so when she shows affection toward me, I grasp at it like a child reaching for their parent.

“I take care of you, don’t I?” Her dark eyes are sparkling down at me like the night sky, and I grin up at her, nodding. “I’ll always have your back, Miss Act. So trust me when I tell you that you are better than her. You’ll meet someone someday, and forget all about that girl.”

My smile falters a little bit, but I nod anyways. “I know.”

“That’s my girl.” She says with a smile, untangling herself from me in order to open the door for me. I flinch slightly at her choice of words, spacing out again, going back in time for a moment.

“Look at me..” She murmurs, “Don’t look away.”

I manage to nod quickly, reaching up to push some strands of tangled blond hair off her sweaty forehead, before burying my fingers into her mass of unruly curls. My lips brush against hers, “Faster… please…”

Her fingers’ pace quickens at my request immediately, her eyes staying on me the whole time. I lock my eyes with hers, feeling a gasp escape my mouth before I fall off the edge of bliss. Willam watches my mouth fall open, my breath coming out in short, quick puffs of hot air, my eyebrows scrunching together. I want to close my eyes and throw my head back, but I keep my eyes locked with hers, my back arches up off the bed toward her as my orgasm reaches its peak. I can feel her hair tickle my face.

“Good girl..” She whispers, watching me collapse back onto the bed.

She leans down, pressing her lips to my forehead firmly, keeping her hand pressed against me a little longer before removing it.

She pulls back from me slowly, “That’s my girl.”

Goosebumps pop up on my skin, and I shiver fiercely, trying to shake the memories out of my head. I know that I can ignore them all I want, but that doesn’t change the fact that my life with Willam is embedded into my heart like braille, spelling out a story that can still make me weep at a moment’s notice. I blink back tears behind my sunglasses, shaking my head again as I run to catch up to Michelle.

Michelle can’t help her ignorance toward my situation with Willam, she doesn’t know how we were, nobody does except for the people back in Brooklyn. She doesn’t realize that Willam is not just another girl, and that what I‘d had with her isn’t anywhere near a fling. It‘s the only real love I‘ve ever felt, and to this day, I still can’t stop that feeling bubbling up inside of me at the mention of her name. I shove it down, hiding it away from myself and everyone else. The further I push it down, the colder I become, and the higher my walls built up.

I had meant to hurt Willam for her own protection, but she hadn’t even realized or cared that she‘d hurt me, too.

All I knew was, that the second time Willam had said goodbye to me first, and I will never forgive her for that.

*

“LASKY!” I squeal into the phone, a bright smile spread across my face. I’m in the lobby of my hotel, sitting in a way too comfortable armchair waiting for Michelle to come back from yelling at the people working at the reception. She hadn’t been too pleased with the hotel’s security management during my stay and she would make them feel her wrath. I don’t particularly like her yelling at anyone, but I’d learned that nothing and nobody can stop her from doing her job, which is to keep me safe and organised. So I never interfere. Sorry, reception people.

“Greetings from Minnesota!” Alaska, my best friend and roommate from college, giggles into the phone, and I instantly feel at home. I‘d missed that giggle.

“What the hell are you doing in Minnesota? Tipping cows?”

“Nah, just visiting some family. Sooooo… when were you planning on telling me about this little tour of yours?” Alaska almost sounds hurt, and I frown.

“Shit, Lasky. I’m sorry. I should have told you.” I sigh softly, “Yeah, yeah… um, there wasn’t much I could do about it. Carson’s job was pretty much on the line here. It’s gonna be interesting, to say the least.”

“I’ll bet.” Alaska says quietly, and I know what‘s coming next. “I miss him.”

“I know, babe.” I whisper, “I know you do.”

Long story short: Alaska’s cat had died in a tragic accident involving two toddlers on tricycles just a month ago. I’ve never had a pet so I don’t really understand why she is still this upset about it but knowing how much she’s always talked about him I still feel for her.

“Gonna come visit on tour?” I ask lightly, hoping to distract her.

“I’m going to try!” Alaska’s voice perks up, “I haven’t gotten laid in months, girl and your dancers are fine as fuck.”

“Jeez, Alaska. I know I’m a good wing woman but can’t you get some without me at least once?” I joke, and she instantly cracks up, which makes me laugh in return. Alaska’s laugh is always funnier than any joke.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself. I just wasn’t in the mood to go out. What about you and Will?” She asks gently.

“I don’t think she’s gonna be up for any make-up sex, Lasky.” I try to laugh, but it comes out weak and humorless.

“What about angry I-hate-you sex?” Alaska asks, making me laugh for real this time.

“That’s a possibility, considering how much she fucking hates me.”

Alaska groans loudly, “I just don’t understand, Couuuurt! The last time I saw you two both at the airport she was practically sobbing because you were leaving! You guys were so…in love. Despite your alleged betrayal.”

“First of all: Willam doesn’t cry. In fact, I don’t think she has tear ducts. And secondly: People change.” I whisper the last sentence, frowning deeply. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” She says, “I know this is going to be hard on you. Call me if you ever need me. I’ll let you know when I can make it out, okay? I love you, girl.”

“I love you, Lasky.” I reply softly, frowning. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Court. After all these years I’m still not used to falling asleep without the sound of your snoring.”

“EXCUSE YOU!” I laugh loudly, seeing Michelle enter the room again, with a disapproving look on her face. “Shit, I really gotta go, Alaska. Love you..”

“Love you! Byyyyyyeeeee!” She hangs up first, and I pull my phone away from my ear, staring down at it for a second. Then Michelle is there and I get up quickly.

„I don’t think they were even listening to me.“, Michelle scoffs and begins marching across the beautifully patterned carpet towards the big double doors.

„Don’t be so grumpy“, I tease her. „They’ve been very courteous whenever I talked to them and they practically read my mind when I needed anything.“

Michelle just mumbles something I can’t understand and leads me back to the reception where I sign some paperwork.

I sigh as I turn around and give Michelle a quick nod. I’m ready. I shove on my sunglasses and Michelle’s hand closes around my arm tightly. Two men in black suits and ties open the doors for us and we step outside into the blazing sun.

Immediately we’re surrounded, tons of photographers crawling around us, pressing in for a picture, shouting things at me desperately. I force a smile onto my face as Michelle leads me safely through the crowd toward the waiting car.

“Should have brought Brian, I guess.” Michelle mutters, speaking of my bodyguard, shielding me from all the bodies pushing towards us. I clutch onto her hand tightly, letting her shove me through everyone until we reach the car, where she flings the backseat door open and helps me inside.

“Well, that was a little nuts for a quiet Sunday afternoon.” Michelle says as she climbs into the front, signaling the driver to go. She turns to look at me in the backseat, where I press a hand to my forehead.

“You alright there Court?”

“Yeah. I’ll just never get used to this.” I force another smile and gesture vaguely.

“Okay.” Michelle smiles weakly and tries to change the subject. “Lauren called and told me to let you know that if you don’t call her today, she’s gonna kick your butt.”

“She can try.” My mood lightens at the mention of my Aunt Lauren, the only family I have left and the woman who raised me after my mother’s death. I admittedly spend a lot of my time feeling sorry for myself because my parents are dead and because I have no siblings. But the simple mention of Aunt Lauren is all it takes to make me stop acting like a helpless child, to be strong and independent the way Lauren is. All it takes for me to realize that I am truly loved is one talk with Lauren.

But right now the thought of Lauren can’t distract me.

I slip one hand into my shirt, pulling out the long, thin silver chain around my neck, and touch the pendant attached to it. The metal is warm from being pressed to my skin all day long, and I tighten my fingers around it, feeling the soft pads of my fingers imprint with the sharp edges of the small diamond.

I pull the chain up to eye level, looking at the ring for a long moment before tilting it to read the inside. There, engraved into the slim silver band, are the words that are also imprinted on my heart, in my brain and onto every inch of my body. Words that I still believe, because Willam is the one who said them, and at one point, she was one of the only people who cared about me more than she cared about herself.

Maybe she stopped caring about me the way she did before everything went to shit, and maybe she didn’t expect me to keep the ring. But the day Willam had given me this ring and had whispered these words which I knew were so hard for her to say I promised myself to keep this gift sacred. To value it forever. The breakup hadn’t changed that.

This proof of Willam’s genuine feelings for me reassured me every day that I’d done the right thing protecting her.

It still means so much to me, that one day I’d started wearing it, close to my heart, on the chain around my neck.

The day I stopped wearing it on my finger.