#i was that kid that tried to read every book in the ya section

[acearohippo]

"Effed up media"? You know, shows like supernatural, Dexter, life with Derek. The last two featured "step siblings", a common trope sadly :/

There were also some shows here and there I can't remember where the evil siblings were uncomfortably close. Ragnarok comes to mind for an example.

Anime does it. All. The. Time. To the point where I don't watch it as much anymore ☹️

Fantasy books, especially in the YA section, featured this a lot (with step siblings, I think people just don't know how to write step siblings) and then c*ss*ndra Cla*re highlighted an even worse trope: the heroine, finding out she has the blood of [insert high fantasy royalty or creature] gets swept off her feet by a handsome dude who's either the second male lead or the plot twist villain, only the bigger plot twist at the end reveals he's actually, also, her brother 😱😱 oh no, how will they "will they/won't they" now 😱😱 easily apparently, the author will just continue to let him flirt ☹️

Lol, I'm going to throw PJO (percy jackson) into this because I was totally fine with the pairings there until he spent a few pages trying to "it's not really incest" us, the readers, which did the opposite for me and plagued me for the rest of the series. 🤣

But I more often than not saw it in books aimed for teen girls, so I eventually avoided them like the plague only picking up a series after peaking at the fandom. My rule of thumb was, if I saw a lot of inc*st tags, then I would avoid that series.

Likewise, there have been fandoms I was in that took perfectly healthy familial relationships and decided to make them the main ship, or one of the top ships, of the fandom. I learned my lesson, though, and just won't join fandoms where the main characters or one of the main characters are a healthy family.

Below the cut is mentions of works that feature explicit content, nothing in detail but considering the context of this post, it may be more triggering. Please proceed with caution and care.

Only one time, was there an author in the YA section, that made actual inc*st books. Most of her books also featured smut. Like, heavily detailed, foreplay-org*sm, smut. In the TEEN/YA section of every library I visited. Her books fearured inc*st, mast*rbation/self discovery (the girls were always less than 10 🤢 one was six but went through a super early puberty, don't recommend), inc*st, pa*d*philia/eph*b*philia, and more inc*st. To this day, I still am lost to how they made it into the section. If anything in my past would scar me, it would be this author's works. But I digress, there's your answer.

I'm pretty sure Li Ling knows that Tang Yun has a very... Toxic... Thing on his brother. To me it reads heavily as inc*stuous but that's due to all the media I've consumed ruining so many sibling relationships that now I'm uber sensitive to that sort of thing.

Regardless, I think we all can agree that Tang Yun is not in a healthy mindset, especially with how he obsesses over Tang Xuan.

And I put forth this theory that Li Ling is aware of how Tang Yun feels and, as such, is protective of Tang Xuan, who does not- can not- see it.

First of all, it is clear that Tang Xuan and Li Ling talk to each other a lot. Not just in person but on the phone ("communicator") all the time. We have a few stories where, when one is mentioned the other is also brought up or where one is, the other is somewhere near.

For the purpose of this theory, we will focus on the communicator, as we see that Tang Xuan doesn't necessarily text often (probably too busy for it, lmfao) but does use the social app. Li Ling seems to be the first to notice that Tang Xuan is MIA, just by the fact that he doesn't answer his calls.

Look at the time stamps of Li Ling's messages.

There are huge gaps of time between his first three messages, before Tang Xuan replies to him when he gets his phone back. And, after Tang Xuan responds, Li Ling's message comes in 2 hours later, talking about some "weak ass miramon".

Fine. Sure.

But if you go over to the social media app, you see this post from Tang Yun:

Lemme preface by reminding y'all this is my personal theory on the order of events, as this app doesn't have any convenient time stamps (:/), but I think we can assume this message comes hours before Tang Xuan gets his phone back.

Two questions pop up:

1. How does he know Tang Xuan is "missing"?

2. Who is accusing him of abducting Tang Xuan?

Tang Xuan then responds to him- maybe after he makes his "I'm not dead!! :P" post, maybe before- and after that is when he gets this message from Tang Yun:

Again, take note of the time. This is well after Tang Xuan has replied to Li Ling, about 8 hours later. I believe that in between his reply to Li Ling and Tang Yun's text, he posts his "I'm still alive!! Cx" social media post,

which then alerts Tang Yun that his brother isn't missing which then prompts his text.

Ok, we all on the same timeline now? Good. THEORY TIME.

I propose that Li Ling (Who is accusing him of abducting Tang Xuan?), not receiving any response from Tang Xuan for near 24 hrs, sent him on a warpath to who he assumes is the most likely culprit of the impromptu dissapearance- Tang Yun.

Li Ling and Tang Xuan talk all. The. Time. Li Ling absolutely knows that, in his previous mission, Tang Xuan came face to face with his brother. And Li Ling probably knows about how Tang Yun admitted to how he would monopolise the one he loves' time and attention, keep them to himself. Tang Xuan probably spared no details going through the entire mission.

Li Ling probably picked up instantly that Tang Yun was referring to Tang Xuan as that "someone he loves" and, remember, this mission takes place not even a week after the Crow one, so it's still fresh in Li Ling's mind, the words Tang Yun said about keeping his loved one to himself. And now Tang Xuan is missing...?

Yeah, I think he went straight for Tang Yun, got pissed (and probably a bit relieved) when he realised Tang Yun did not kidnap Tang Xuan, and then went off to try find him himself, taking on hoards of miramon (enough that he would miss a respond from Tang Xuan by two hours) much to the worry of Lewis and their friends. Then Li Ling tried to play it off for a bit, acting like he was just doing normal union things except Lewis explicitly says that he was actively trying to calm "everyone" down.

Lewis?

Calming people down?

Dude gets fired up at the drop of a pin... Except when someone is in crisis mode, and from his like FIVE CAMEOS (freaking dislyte, give us more Lewis pleaaase) we only really see him act level headed when he's with Tang Xuan and Li Ling.

So, methinks Li Ling might've tried to rally the troops to find Tang Xuan, Leora- an obvious choice as she's a living bishoujo heroine- probably got caught up in the dramatics of it, David and Q too (simple minded David just always ready to be there or be square, Q sniffing a potential story) etc etc. So they're all just psyching each other up and/or out so now Lewis has his crisis that he can take charge in and de-escalate.

Meanwhile, Tang Yun now knows that his brother is missing (How does he know Tang Xuan is "missing"?) and I can only guess how pissed off he got, his mental stability taking a swan dive into the Marianas Trench of all the possibilities of where his brother could be and scenarios where he would keep him by his side, so that this could never occur again. Hence the very aggressive threat (promise?) that he would hogtie Tang Xuan for his own good if this were to occur again.

The fact that he uses the word hogtie is very disturbing and, for those that aren't sure what that looks like, here's an as SFW-as-tying-people-up-can-be demonstration I could find of it

We are going to ignore the NSFW implications, and just focus on the vulnerability this position puts a person into.

This is the kind of messages Tang Yun sends his brother.

This is the kind of imagery he wants to put his brother in.

And Li Ling knows. He freaking knows and is probably one of the few espers who caught on that something was off with Tang Yun.

And Tang Xuan is

So

Damn

Oblivious ヽ(`д´；)/

Like damn, boy, I understand, he's your brother- that's just NOT something a healthy sibling would ever imagine their sibling would do or think or act. But by golly, could you maybe just focus on what he's saying rather than picking out the most inconsequential, insignificant parts? 😭 Bro is ignoring every red flag and siren.

[wildbwills]

Before he Fell

Hi uh this is the first fic I’ve ever written. I was inspired to write something after reading @the-flaminhos story Real or Not Real (Also they were super awesome reading through it as I wrote so thank you! :3) This is Supposed to be Newt’s and also Minho’s perspective on a bit of their life before Thomas came to the Glade. I tried to make it as close to canon as possible, with the exception of the character Darwin (I made him up) Warning: This does depict Newt’s suicide attempt as well as his pretty dark headspace in the time leading up to it. There is also some description of gore (nothing worse than in the books) So be warned and take care of yourself. 8k words :)

*Newt*

The days started to feel the same. Every morning at the wake up he felt heavy. He had to be shaken and reminded that the sun was up and risin’. At dinner he pushed Fry’s food around in circles. The only time his mind was quieter was when he was runnin’. But then all he could think was of the walls. There was no way out of  the Maze, they knew that much. They’d figured out it’d just been repeatin’ itself, and would keep on doing that for ever and ever. Newt remembered the day where all the runners had sat around a table and laid out the maps, watchin’ the patterns repeat until their eyes went crossed.

Newt felt sweat bead on his forehead and drip down his face like tears. His runnin’ shoes were runnin’ thin at the soles. He’d tell Minho to send another note down askin’ for a new pair soon. Newt reached the last turn in his section. He knew he should keep on runnin’, keep on runnin’ back. 

Instead Newt just stood there with the blood rushin’ to his head. He felt so heavy with all of it. They were never gettin’ out of this buggin’ maze, they were never leavin’ the Glade and every buggin’ month they were just going to send more kids up  here to die. More of them to die until the big stone bowl of the glade was filled with graves marked with Gally’s hack-job headstones.

His watch told him the doors closed soon.

Would a Greiver be that bad of a way to go out? Newt groaned and started runnin’ again.

“You’re late klunk-for-brains!”

“Yeah,” Newt agreed. The doors were almost ready to close, he’d made it out with barely a few minutes to spare.

“Greivers kissin’ your butt ain’t enough for you?”

“Slim it Minho I took a long lunch.”

Minho snorted at him and turned around, joggin’ off towards the kitchens. Newt braced himself against the huge wall, breathin’ in and out. Minho was a piece of work.

When he sat down next to the other runners Minho had already cleared half the plate of Fry’s chicken. Fry was real sweet makin’ them special runner food. Newt looked down at his own plate, it was food alright, and good food too. But somethin’ in him was too tired to eat it. He felt like a piece of klunk for wastin’ Frypan’s hard work.

Minho glanced over at him so he quickly sawed off a bite and swallowed. Minho thumped his back.

“You’ve been real quiet lately, savin’ all your chatter for the next Greenie?”

“I guess so- what’d ya just call the kid?“

“Greenie. Like a fresh little greenbean straight from the gardens.”

“Minho likes makin’ up words doesn’t he ya big shank!” Louis laughed, flickin’ a chicken bone at Minho. Minho made a face,

“You lot use em’”

“Sure we do,” Louis snickered. Minho watched the other boys, smilin’ for a second before turnin’ back to Newt. Minho glanced around as if someone might be listenin’ before speaking:

“You sure you didn’t find anything today? Anything new that might have made you a bit late?”

“What? Mate- I told ya, I lost track of time on my lunch break.”

“Fine. Then what’s got you looking so depressing?”

Newt wanted to punch the look off his face, what wasn’t there to be sad about in this place? George had bloody died not a month ago. Newt could still picture all of the blood. After Alby had killed him he’d still bled. Red blood had spread over the green grass. And none of them had any clue what to do with his buggin’ body. The whole thing made him so sick.

Newt pushed his chicken up to the edge of his plate.

“There’s no bloody way out of this place,” Newt hissed. Minho’s head snapped up,

“We don’t know that, any day we could find something new.” Minho fired back. They were talkin’ in sharp little whispers, pretendin’ not to look at each other.

“That’s a load of crap and you know it. Out of all of the…shanks here you’re the one who’s supposed to tell the truth.”

Minho turned to look at him then, starin’ him down with angry eyes.

“Get your head on straight and be ready to head back out tomorrow, you’re the last person I expect to be giving up.”

Minho got up and dropped his plate into the dishwasher. Newt watched him walk out. Minho was right. Newt was the last person to be givin’ up. So they were all bloody doomed.

That next mornin’ was one of the worst wake-ups he’d opened his eyes to. He felt sick all in his stomach. He’d woken up later than any of the other Gladers. Maybe they’d gotten tired of wakin’ him up. Newt just wanted to roll over and fall back to sleep.

That night when he got back late again Minho was waitin’ at his door again.

“What’s with you?”

“Nothin’ got a late start this mornin’.”

“You know something I don’t?” Minho accused him,

“Mate I’m just tired, get out of the way,” Newt pushed him aside, feelin’ a horrible sinkin’ feelin’ he walked to the side of the wall and threw up. He kept lurchin’ a bit until his insides calmed down.

“What the hell?” Minho walked over to him, pattin’ his back. Newt swallowed the foul taste of his own stomach, wincing.

“I’m good now, I’ll just head on over to Fry’s-“

“Newt!” Minho shouted after him but Newt had started sprinting. Minho’s shorter legs wouldn’t reach him fast enough.

Like a pathetic little buggin’ kid Newt hid. Right behind the kitchen pressed to the back wall tuggin’ on the long bits of his hair that Alby kept tryin’ to convince him to cut.

He shouldn’t be a runner, really shouldn’t. Not anymore, not like this.

Minho wouldn’t make a scene, he wouldn’t try too hard to find him. Newt really hoped he wouldn’t. This was no way to see him.

That night Newt trudged over to convince one of the boys nearest to the animals to trade Hammocks with him. The boy was happy to switch right out of his noisy one. Newt woke the next mornin’ early to the sound of the big rooster screaming his bloody head off. Newt showered that morning, running his face he stared down his reflection in the sliver of mirror they’d hung up in the shower room.

If he felt like the world, the bloody Glade was fallin’ to pieces in his face the least he could do was act like it wasn’t.

*Minho*

Minho knew something was going on. He just couldn’t really figure out what. Newt was acting like a freaking crazy man. Could he have been stung? No way…they turned all ballistic and veiny. Minho watched him carefully in the next week, Newt seemed like he was going back to normal. He ate, slept, and ran like anyone else. Then the shucking alarm went off.

The damn thing rang for about half an hour before anything happened. It was annoying as hell. Even the other sweaty stinkin’ runners came all around when it was time for the box to come up.

“Hey what about what we said last time? About sendin’ a shank down with the box afterwards?” Someone called over the noise of the clanging alarm. Minho looked to Nick, he was standing with his arms crossed looking down the hole with an old man frown. Nick glanced over and shifted his stance slightly.

“Worth a shot I figure!”

Minho glanced at Newt, who was standing with his eyes stuck on the hole, freaking glued to it, the big doors wide open like a mouth.

The box came up clanking and shaking and eventually screeching to a stop.

“Hey, we got a big one!” A boy shouted as he tossed down the loop of rope, Minho leaned over the edge, getting a look at the boy. He was big, built like a bear with black hair and a long face. But the big boy was shaking like a little bunny.

“Hey there Greenie!”

“Is that what we’re callin’ newbies now Minho?” Alby elbowed his side, Minho looked to him and grinned,

“Yeah, Greenies, they’ll water all the plants in the gardens with a big fresh flow of tears.”

“Ay!” Several boys reached out to steady the Greenie. He looked about to klunk himself.

“What’s your name huh Greenie?” Minho asked the newbie, but Niel was already pushing past.

“My name’s Nick and I’m the leader of this fair place.”

“Fair? Yeah real shucking’ fine place!” Gally hollered. Nick glared him down before looking back at the boy.

“What’s your name huh? We all have em’”

The Greenie looked at him with big scared eyes for a second,

“I’m- I’m Mozart.”

Laughter erupted from all the boys, Minho couldn’t help but snicker, that was the dumbest shucking name he’d ever heard.

“We’ll call him Zart then right?” Minho suggested, catching the new boy’s eyes.

“Zart work for you man?” Nick asked, Zart nodded shakily.

“Zart the fart it is!” Minho announced, Alby elbowed him again,

“You’re scaring the newbie, keep your trap shut.”

Once all the supplies had almost been lifted out a boy reminded them of the plan.

“Hey what about sending someone back down!”

“Right, well Nick’s taken Zartie off on the tour,” Another complained.

“We’ll have to wait a month to try this klunk again, forget Nick,” Minho said, looking around. “Okay then, who volunteers to shoot back down in the good ol’ box?” Minho asked, rubbing his hands together and looking around.

“Darwin’ll do it,” Some of the boys murmured. Almost as they said it Darwin stepped forward. Darwin was a younger gangly boy with one arm shorter than the other and a shaggy haircut that was starting to look a bit like Newt’s if he didn’t cut it soon.

“I’ll do it!” He grinned. Minho nodded.

“This a good idea?” Newt asked suddenly, catching Minho’s eye from the other side of the Box hole.

“Figure if they come up safe in the box they can go back down in it right?” Minho shrugged.

They threw the stepping loop down, Darwin hopped right down into it, eager to be lowered down into the steel trap.

“If you see anything start hollering!” Minho shouted down to him before the boys helped shut the big doors.

They waited for the rumble of the shaft. Instead there was nothing, no movement, no clanking.

“Hey I don’t think this Box is goin’ anywhere!” Darwin shouted from inside.

“Give it another minute slinthead!” Gally argued back. Minho frowned.

“Gally slim it, he’s braver than you for being down there.”

“Braver than being stung by a Griever?”

���At least he’s never been stupid enough to waltz into the Maze!” Minho was a second away from screwing up Gally’s ugly nose a bit more. Newt had stepped forward and Alby had put a hand on Minho’s chest.

“Why don’t we all slim it and take that kid out of the box huh?” Newt said

The Gladers watching murmured in agreement, and the doors were pried open. Darwin was taken out, seeming unbothered.

Almost the second they’d closed the doors after Darwin got out the Box started rumbling down again.

“Well that’s that I guess,” Darwin said.

“I mean not unless we chuck someone down there,” Minho joked, giving Alby a shove towards the closed doors. Alby twisted around and put him in a headlock. Minho struggled against him screaming,

“Feed the freakin’ box hole with some fresh Glader meat!” he burst into laughter.

“I’d do it.” Darwin shrugged. Alby let go, Minho stopped thrashing, He looked Darwin in his Big ol’ brown cow eyes.

“You’re one crazy shank,” Minho said.

“No I mean it. Send me down in there, it can’t be too far down can it?”

“Get the crazy dude some Rope!” A boy shouted, and some of the builders were already off to go grab some.

Everyone burst into chatter while they waited. Minho stayed at the edge of the doors. Newt walked up to him slowly.

“You’re not gonna let him do this are ya?”

“Why not?”

“What if that kid gets hurt huh?”

“Look, we’ll get some real strong rope, lower him down about fifty feet, he gets scared craps his little shucking panties and then we bring him up. And just maybe he’s found something important in his way down.”

“Minho,” Newt’s voice was warning.

“Newt! You’re the one who went off about the maze having no freakin’ exit door! Why not try the other options?”

“This is a kid! He’s barely fifteen!”

“Newt, everything is going to be just fine, they wouldn’t give us a box hole and not expect us to poke around!”

Minho bumped Newt’s shoulder, “You get real jittery sometimes, but the only way we all get back to our mommies and daddies is if we find our way out of this clunk-filled hellhole.”

“You’re right I guess.”

“I’m always right, get used to it.”

Minho helped Gally tie up a harness for Darwin. Once the knots were tied down tight and checked three times to satisfy Newt they brought Darwin up to the edge of the box hole and threw open the doors. 

“You ready mate?” Newt asked, Minho rolled his eyes. Newt was probably hoping Darwin backed out at the last moment.

“Yeah, just send me down already!”

Minho patter Darwin’s shoulder for a moment before grabbing hold of the long rope connected to his back. Alby and a few other boys grabbed on as well. They brought Darwin to the edge where he sort of just hopped in. Minho and the others leaned back to balance out the weight.

“You good dude?”

“Yeah!” Darwin called back. All the Gladers had gathered around the rim of the box hole and were looking down watching the dangling boy. Minho watched Newt watch him, his face was tight in a little grimace. If only Newt would relax for ten seconds.

“Okay we’re gonna send you down slowly!” Alby announced down the hole.

“Right on!”

The boys slowly let the rope inch down. He went down five feet, then ten, everyone waited and watched slowly. Ever few minutes Darwin would hoot and they could hear the echo shooting back up.

Then about twenty feet down Darwin started to scream like crazy. The rope got about twenty pounds lighter and all of the boys pulling it stumbled back a few feet.

“Whats going on!?” Minho shouted, the boys watching looked just as confused.

“Get him out of there! GET HIM OUT OF THERE!” Newt was screaming, he ran to the rope holders and started pulling frantically, Minho joined him, it was easy now that he weighed about half as much as before. In a minute they had him out, he was still screaming. The second his body made it up some of the boys backed away in horror. He was sliced clean in half just below his belly button the rest was gone. Blood leaked all over the edge of the box hole. There was no way he was going to survive. Newt leaned down, kneeling next to the boy and holding his face. Darwin was crying. In a moment or two he went still. Newt slowly got up, he turned to Minho and punched him right across the face. Minho grunted and stumbled back a few feet as pain exploded in his entire face. He could have sworn it knocked some of his brain clean out of his nose. Then Newt turned and started walking towards the deadheads.

Minho spent a week in the slammer with a new runner taking over his section. He felt shucking awful about Darwin, he really did. Newts face had made him feel half as awful again. How had he been supposed to know the Box hole ATE people? They’d thrown notes and crap down there every other week. 

Alby visited him sometimes, mostly just to drop off food, but today he stayed for a moment longer.

“How’re you doing in there jailbird?”

“Just fine and dandy, some shucking idiot put a chair with a short leg in here.”

“That was your idea remember? Had a good laugh about it too,” Alby said, leaning against the wall to look Minho in the eye through the tiny window.

“Well I guess I’m a shucking genius then.”

“I’d keep that talk to a minimum for at least a month after what happened,” Alby warned,

“Right,” Minho agreed. He closed his eyes, 

“Tell Newt I’m sorry.”

“I did that already.”

“Well do it again! I mean it.”

“He knows you do, he’s not that mad anymore.”

“Tell that to the purple side of my freaking face!”

“He said he’ll talk to you when you’re not behind bars, then you can sort things out.”

Minho stood in silence for a moment.

“How’d I end up in here, and you get off free?”

“Because I got a big long talking-to from Niel.”

“And I’m in actual jail?”

“A talking to wouldn’t work on your stubborn ass.”

“I guess,” Minho sighed, touching the side of his face that was swollen. It hurt bad. He knew honestly that Newt hadn’t punched him as had as he could have. If Newy really wanted to he could have split Minho’s skull in two. That didn’t stop it from hurting like freakin’ hell though.

“You enjoy your thinking time alright?”

Alby jogged away. Minho groaned and sat back down on the crappy wobbly chair.

When Nick came to unlock him Minho could have kissed his shoes. The slammer sucked big time and cold meals for a week were enough to make anyone feel like a load of clunk.

Mostly though he wanted to see newt, and say a real big sorry.

“Minho,” Nick said. He had this deep drawling accent that made anyone turn their head.

“Yeah?”

“You ever do somethin’ like this again and you’re banished. You and Alby or whoever you drag into your crap.”

“I got it.”

“Look at me,” Nick growled, Minho looked up gritting his teeth.

“You killed that boy.”

Minho felt his stomach swim.

“You’re not running for another week, you’re going to help the new boy in the garden.”

“But-“

“Shut your hole.”

Nick turned to walk away, then paused. 

“And shower, you smell like…klunk.”

Minho showered a weeks worth of sweat off of himself and then went straight to Newt’s door. Alby shared a door with Newt and usually came out first. At sunset the Maze could be pretty freakin’ beautiful. The whole Glade turned red, the sun over the huge walls caught and shone in a perfect way. It’d be nicer if there weren’t freakin’ monsters after their butts.

Newt came out first, panting and jogging slowly he sped by Minho and then slowed to a walk, puffing in and out.

“You’re here.” Newt said, straightening up and looking him over.

“In the flesh.”

“Your face looks like a Greiver’s arse,” Newt joked. Minho nodded, swallowing.

“I’ll give your complements to its shucking sculptor you slinthead.”

“You’re supposed to apologise to me.”

“Yeah, I’m really freaking sorry.”

“Are ya now?”

“Newt I don’t mean for him to die you know that.”

Newt nodded, looking out over the glade with this faraway sad look he’d picked up. Minho tilted his head to catch Newt’s eye, “You good man?”

Newt didn’t answer for a moment, but he snapped back.

“Yeah, sorry about your face.”

“It’s alright, you’ve brought me down to about a regular level of handsomeness.”

Newt snorted, slugging his shoulder gently he started off towards Fry’s.

Over dinner Newt was quiet as usual. Nothing Minho did really changed anything. He could make the other runners laugh until they cried but Newt just chuckled dryly and stared back down at his plate.

Newt had his day off soon, Minho hoped they could catch up then, while he was stuck weeding with Zart the Greenie Fart.

But after their little meet-up outside the Maze Newt seemed bent on avoiding him. Or everybody really. Newt was sort of always wandering away, spending a freakish amount of time off in the Deadheads.

“Did the kid in the…box hole really get sliced in half?” Zart asked Minho quietly one day.

“Yeah, he really did,” Minho said, yanking at a little sprout in between the healthy carrots.

“In half which way?” Asked another boy, one who apparently hadn’t been next to the box when it happened.

“In half, no more legs, no more bottom,” Minho said, ripping at a larger weed.

“Someone said he was still screaming was he-“

“Can’t you shucks stick to farming?” Minho sighed, leaning back.

“Nick said he’s buried him with a window into his grave so anyone who needs a reminder knows not to be as stupid.”

Minho’s eyes widened. Newt’s been in the deadheads for days staring at graves.

“Holy shucking klunkballs- seriously?”

“I’m too freaked out to look,” Zart admitted quietly.

Minho found Alby that night.

“Man something’s wrong with Newt.”

“I don’t disagree with you but seeing a boy get sliced in half is enough to make anyone sick.”

“Yeah but you…y’know actually killed a dude a few months ago and you’re fine.”

Alby gave him a look.

“What I did to George was to keep all of us safe.”

“I know, that’s what I’m saying, and you’re all good now right? Newt’s the one bugging out.”

“Just give him space Minho.”

“What if he’s been stung or something? Shouldn’t we go try and-“

Alby grabbed his shoulders,

“People need time, after I…killed George I needed shucking weeks just to feel like I was Alby again, Newt agreed to our little box-hole stunt just as much as we did, you might not feel like a killer, but maybe he does.”

Minho scrunched up his full face and growled, 

“This place sucks, all of this sucks donkey klunk, I want my memories, I want you all to have your shucking memories!”

“Yeah,” Alby breathed, squinting up at the setting sun, “Yeah, that’s about right.”

*Newt*

Newt didn’t own much. He had the clothes on his back and the ones that sat in a pile next to his hammock. He had a journal too, Alby had handed it to him after a bunch of them came up in a supply delivery. He’d never wrote in it though, never had much to say. Other than  that he had just a few clear, sparkly lookin’ rocks some of the boys had found in the garden and passed around. Nothin’ worth giving away.

It was his day off tomorrow. He wouldn’t have to go in that bloody maze. He’d started to hate the maze, after his little freak out behind the kitchens he’d spent every day inside hating it more and more. He’d always hated it, the big stone walls and the long vines. There was no way out. Never would be. He hoped whoever built all those walls up was gettin’ their laughs in. He really hoped they were.

The maze was as shucking big as it would ever be. Beetle Blades shot out to watch him as he ran. Nasty, creepy buggers. The first time any of the boys  had seen them they knew what them Beetle Blades were for. With one steady red eye they were meant for watchin’, spyin’. Nothin’ could be done without a beetle blade slitherin’ through your ankles. If Newt hadn’t been so worried about Darwin, (worry that meant nothing to the dead boy now) he might have seen the Beetle Blades scurryin’ up close to get a view at the boy sliced clean in half.

The last dead end of his section was marked down. Newt turned on his heels. Nearer to the door he paused for a moment, reaching to one of the walls covered in vines. He grabbed one of them, pulling at it. It made a ripping sound all the way up until it stopped. Newt tugged at it hard. The vine held on tight. He tugged again. The vine stayed strong.

Newt paused for a moment. He closed his eyes and felt the weight of the glade, all the hell around him crash down. He took his hand off the vine and started to run again. He was going to get out of here. He was going to make it out.

When he got back he walked to the Deadheads. The baggers had already dug Darwin up a grave and tossed him inside. Nick had put a big piece of plastic over it so you could see right down where his body lay. Newt watched it sometimes. Maggots crawled from his rotting eyes, bugs gnawed at his skin. Just a week ago he’d been alive, runnin’ around, laughin’.

What if Minho was the next one? An’ then Alby after that? What if Newt was just goin’ to watch his friends die? One by one. Newt walked over to George’s grave. George had been in so much pain. It had been mercy what Alby did wasn’t it? So this would be mercy, Newt would be mercy.

He sat outside the kitchens. It wasn’t breakfast yet, but the runners were already heading out. Newt waved to Alby. Minho would be workin’ away in the gardens, Newt had to remember to say a fast goodbye and avoid him. The Glade felt quiet for once. He showered, a long nice one, running the waxy glade bar soap through his hair. He remembered a time, however long ago when he would clean off in a warm white tub. Newt had stopped searching for his old memories so long ago. All of them had.

Winston, he should say something to that creepy guy. Newt liked him a fair bit to be honest. When all the boys had gathered around the Box hole for their little experiment Winston had left halfway through, disapprovin’ of all their meddling’.

“Winston! Mate!”

“Newt?” Winston asked, turnin’ around and taking his hands off the big dead pig loaded onto a table. Newt looked away from it, focusin’ on Winston.

”You alright, having a decent day?”

”Yeah, ‘bout as decent as it gets, you?”

”Fine,” Newt said, taking a deep breath out, “Well take care mate, I just wanted to drop by, it being my day off and all.”

“Right on,” Winston agreed pleasantly, turning back to his pig.

Newt found Zart next, out all the way into the cornfields, the kid had a talent for farmin’. Newt only thought it right to say somethin’ to Zart, he was the newest newbie- or greenie whatever Minho had come up with now.

“Hey mate,” Newt greeted him, Zart looked up, nearly dropping his basket of freshly picked corn,

”Hey Newt.”

“How’re you likin’ the Glade?”

“Oh, well…” Zart looked down, and then everywhere except Newt’s eyes,

“Its s‘alright if you dont like it much, if you miss something you can’t remember, that’s how all these shanks feel, weather the shanks mention it or not.”

Zart nodded.

“Newt you want to know the worst part of the Glade?” Zart asked, and for a moment Newt felt an empty pit open up within himself ready to gulp down everythin’ he’d ever been, instead he swallowed it a bit, and nodded,

“Yeah?”

“Having a…shucking name like Mozart,” Zart snickered shyly, Newt laughed suddenly at that, almost in relief. He slapped Zart on the back, smiling.

“Thank Minho’s big klunkin’ brain for that one huh?”

“What’re you shuck-faced slintheads saying about me!” Minho burst from the corn, trampling a good part of it before shuffling up to Zart and Newt.

“Talkin’ to Zart, Bugger off.”

“You love me,” Minho announced, trying to sling an arm around Newt’s shoulder. He wasn’t quite tall enough, settling for another back pat.

”Sure I do, you and your ugly mug,”

“I told you, I’m down to human levels of good looks.”

“I’m assuming all is good with the almighty Minho?”

“Yeah, what’s it to you?”

“Just wanted to know.”

Newt turned away, starting to walk towards the Deadheads. Minho started walking to follow him, he had to jog with how fast Newt was walking.

“Newt!”

“Yeah?”

“Newt can we talk?”

“Sure.”

“Newt I just want a day to talk to you Y’know just catch up.”

“Minho that’s just fine, I gotta take my time out in the forest though.”

“Alright, I’ll wait for you back at the farm,” Minho agreed. Newt felt his heart clench,

“Don’t wait for me, I’ll be awhile,” Newt choked out.

“We’ll you’re-“ 

Newt started to walk, then run. He was seconds away from bawlin’ his buggin’ eyes out. Minho was gonna wait for him. But he couldn’t make good on that, he had to go now, before anythin’ horrible could happen again.

The Deadheads was the thickest a forest could possibly get, sometimes if entered at the wrong place he had to fight through leaves and branches, watch his feet for roots. And in the center was the graveyard.

Newt collapsed onto a bench right outside of the forest. He couldn’t go in there, not just yet. Minho was watchin’ him, he could feel it. Newt stayed still, staring at the ground until the feelin’ of being watched lessened. Newt closed his eyes and breathed in and out. It would all be done soon, really, actually done.

Newt pressed his hands into his thighs. He tried then to remember somethin’, anythin’ real. The thing that always ached inside of him wouldn’t quiet. There was somethin’ he must miss, must miss like a bloody limb. But it was gone. 

Newt got up, trudging into the forest. He’d worn a path down in the past week. Every time he headed through it was easier. The clearing was small, with about five headstones.

Newt knelt down. He felt his face fall. It was like the normal-ness suddenly drained from him and the only thing left was the hollow hole. What if today Minho came back stung, Alby with a chunk taken out of him by a shucking Greiver. What if the next time someone needed to volunteer for some stupid, death-trap plan it’d be Minho, and Newt would be dragging up his body, cut in two shucking pieces. The hollowness that had opened up stretched wider, the ache of longing something he couldn’t remember, the feeling he’d known since he’d woken up in the glade, how alone he felt, it grew bigger an’ bigger until Newt fell forward, his face twisted into pain. He started to sob, wrapping his hands around his head to try and quiet his thinkin’. He just wanted all of this to stop.

Newt pawed at his eyes with the palms of his hands, trying to wring the tears out of em’. Newt got up. He marched out of that awful bloody forest and out into the Glade. He walked out to the Maze door, the closest one, the one he’d ran in and out every buggin’ day. He knew it real well, knew it like it was just another part of him. His tears had stopped, face had set itself. He marched into the huge opening between the walls. He knew this section so well he could have walked it blind. He turned around the corners and walls, his walk turned into a run. He was looking for a wall, one covered in bloody shucking ivy, a big tall wall.

Newt found it.

The wall like all the others reached up almost into the sky. Newt was going to climb to the very top. He grabbed the nearest piece, this time he didn’t check if it could hold his weight, it didn’t matter. Newt dug his feet into the nicks and cracks, hauled his weight up with his arms. His breathing was shaky, he kept glancing down, was this enough? How much more? He was almost halfway up and suddenly it felt like he couldn’t go any further, like someone put a big bloody hand in his brain and squeezed. Newt pulled himself up a few more feet, then a few more. He looked up to the wall reaching up above him. He was sweating hard now, sure he couldn’t even make it up another shucking inch. Newt swallowed. He looked back to the wall clinging to the vines and breathing in and out. He heard it then, the little metallic clicking of a beetle blade. He turned his head to see the beady red eye of the creature starin’ him down. Newt met its eye, feelin’ anger fill him in an overwhelmin’ crash. 

He reached to the beetle and grabbed it, he’d never been able to touch one before, much less grab it, the metal cut into his hand, but the beetle stayed still watchin‘ intently.

“I don’t know who you people are, but I hope you’re happy. I hope you get a real buggin’ kick out of watching us suffer. And then you can die and go to hell. This is on you.”

Blood ran hot down his wrist and to his elbow. The beetle wriggled then, cutting deeper into his palm, he let go, kicked off the wall and let go.

Newt felt air rush through his ears, go up in a gust all around him. All he could think was Minho, Alby, Winston, George, Frypan, Darwin, Nick, even shucking Gally in a blur in his mind.

And then he hit the ground.

An explosion of pain ripped through his whole body. Newt cried out, he couldn’t move. One of his legs was bent the wrong way, it felt like hell, his whole body felt like hell. Newt inched up, Hissing and groaning. He shouted again, pure pain swaying his vision. He pulled his wrecked leg to his chest. He hadn’t bloody died, why didn’t he die? The bloody creators must have stopped it. Newt felt tears runnin’ down his neck, he groaned, shakin’. Everythin’ hurt so damn much. If he lay here he might die eventually. Newt drew his head back, starin’ up at the fake sky, he started to cry again, his broken body was wracked with horrible lurchin’ sobs that made his insides ache. Newt cried molten hate and molten pain. He should have died. He should have died. He grit his teeth hard together, screamin’,

“I hate you! I HATE YOU!” Newt nearly passed out. He heaved in big breaths, gasping for air. Newt didn’t know who he hated more, the shucking creators of the Maze or himself. His stupid shuckin’ self he couldn’t even die properly.

Newt fell backwards, his head hitting the stone of the ground. The pain was too loud, thumpin’ an aching heartbeat through his ears. Newt went out then, eyes rolling over to the hurt and exhaustion.

He woke up suddenly to hands grabbin’ him, draggin’ him forward. Newt groaned, reachin’ up to find the arm with a hold on him, he looked up and it was Alby. Alby glanced down at him.

“What shucking happened you idiot?”

“I jumped,” Newt admitted shakily. Alby stopped, starin’ at him. Newt didn’t even know what to say, his leg hurt so bloody much. Alby leaned down and lifted Newt up a bit, draping him over Alby’s shoulder. Alby grunted, stumblin’ forward. Newt had his cheek pressed to the damp shoulder of Alby’s shirt, breathin’ in shaky little gasps.

“Why?”

Newt didn’t say anything. He just let himself be dragged back. Right before they got to the door Newt gripped his shoulder tightly,

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“Wasn’t going to dude.”

Alby dropped him off by the door and sprinted over to Clint. Clint was the only bloody decent Med-Jack they had. Clint and Alby came back with a stretcher. They helped Newt up on it and started running back to the homestead. Newt kept his eyes open, everyone seemed to be at dinner. He hoped Minho was at dinner, if he had to see Minho right now he might start shuckin’ crying again.

Clint had to set the bones in his leg. They didn't have anything except for a mild painkiller. Clint gave him about three pills, said that was all he was comfortable with.

“Newt, buddy I’m not gonna lie to you this is going to hurt like a shucking Greiver bite.”

“I broke the damn leg I can stand to see it sorted out Clint!” Newt bit back, hissing in pain.

“Alright,” Clint grabbed his leg, Newt shouted out, grabbin’ the sheets of the bed and nearly rippin’ a hole right through them.

“Bloody- Clint just get the damn thing over with!” He cried, Clint twisted his leg slightly, shovin’ it together. Newt screamed, his brain was so white hot with pain he could barely breathe.

“It’s done now!” Clint announced, steppin’ back and quickly gatherin’ bandages. Alby helped him arrange a splint to secure both sides of his leg. The whole thing hurt like torture. Clint gave him something to put him to sleep a bit faster. Newt took it greatfuly.

The next time waking up, after waking up on the floor of the Maze a different boy was watching over him.

Minho had a chair pulled up next to his bed, staring at him.

Newt grimaced, closing his eyes.

“Clint says you need to take some pills.”

“Clint could have told me that himself,” Newt mumbled. Minho frowned, handing Newt the glass and his medicine. Newt took it, swallowing the pills and smacking his lips. He looked up to see Minho still standing there. 

“What shucking happened Newt?”

Newt shook his head, picking at one of his fingernails.

“Newt what happened!”

Newt lay back down in bed, closing his eyes.

“He awake?” Clint asked, arriving and walking over to Newt’s bedside.

“Not anymore apparently,” Minho said. Minho could be a piece of work sometimes.

The next day Minho was back.

“Ably won’t shucking tell me what happened!”

“Good! He shouldn’t.”

“Newt you got hurt, how did that happen?”

“None of your bloody shucking business that’s how!”

Minho stood there for a while, just standing with a slowly rising and falling chest and watching Newt.

“Newt…what happened?”

“You know what happened.”

“I don’t.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Dunno, Greiver finally got your ass?”

Newt laughed out loud, his whole body ached at the movement. He winced, clenchin’ his teeth together. 

“Nah,” He choked out.

Minho pulled up a chair beside him and sat down.

They stayed in silence for a while. Newt couldn’t help but think how much of an idiot he was. To think Minho would have been standin’ over his grave just a week later, to think Minho would elect each new runner thinkin’ how they couldn’t make up for his being gone. Newt was such a shucking slinthead.

“Your face is getting better.”

“Yeah, all you shuck-faced klunkslingers are gonna have to start shielding your eyes, wouldn’t want you tripping over yourselves when you see my glorious mug.”

“I’ll screw your mug right back up,” Newt argued, smoothing out the sheets on the bed.

“You could’ve split my skull in two couldn’t you?” Minho laughed, leaning back in his chair.

“Maybe,” Newt shrugged.

“Oh polite little humble Newtie!” Minho whistled. Newt smiled to himself.

There was another minute of silence.

“Minho I tried to climb up one of the walls, ya said it couldn’t be done but I wasn’t convinced, I climbed about halfway up. Turns out those buggin’ greivers can climb because before I knew it a big nasty one shuckin’ jumped out of nowhere. I fell about the whole way down then Alby grabbed me and dragged me out like a brave little shuck warrior.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, we were real close to the door, lucky shanks we are.”

Minho looked down, biting his lip.

“Newt I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, nothin’ can be done about it now though, I’m just glad it wasn’t you or Alby.”

“Yeah sure, but it’s still you in a full shucking leg brace, I’d take that a hundred times before I let you take a fall like that.”

Newt felt his heart ache. He was so buggin’ selfish, how could he have left them like this?

“Aww, you’re a real sweetie aren’t ya?”

Minho stayed with him until Newt got drowsy and took his sleepin’ pills. Minho was real sweet, too good to him. Minho could never know about what really happened. Newt had to keep that until he died.

Thank goodness Minho was gone the next day, back to his Runner job. Newt spent most of the day staring at the ceiling and having boring buggin’ conversations with Clint.

Alby hadn’t visited him. He knew Minho had been banned from running for a while but Alby had his mornin’s and nights to drop by. What if Alby hated his shuck guts? What if Alby couldn’t bare to even see his face? On one hand he was terrified to hear what Alby had to say, on the other he was was achin ’ to find out.

That night Newt called Clint over,

“Clint, mate!”

“Yeah?” Clint got up, walking to the foot of his bed,

“My hammock is down by the bard, would you mind fetchin’ a journal I got down there? I’d like to write a bit.”

Clint through about it for a second, 

“Sure I can, but you gotta promise not to do anything stupid while I’m gone, alright?”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly fit to be klunking around am I?” Newt said dryly. Clint nodded,

“Good that.”

Once Newt had his journal, and Clint had given him one of the pencils he used to mark down sick boy’s names Newt got to writing.

My name is Newt. 

Newt wrote on the first page, and then stared at the sentence. He frowned, rubbing it out with the palm of his hand.

I woke up with the name Newt, It must not be mine because what bloody parent names their kid after a slimy lizard?

Newt chewed on the end of the pencil, thinking.

I live in a big stupid place called the Glade. My two best friends are Minho and Alby, they’re alright I guess if you like ugly-mugged shanks.

Newt laughed to himself, 

I’m just joking, they’re not too hideous or that big of slintheads, but sometimes Minho makes me want to tear all my hair out.

Newt breathed out shakily, relaxing. He put the book off to the side of his bed.

Alby came that night. Newt woke up to the sound of the bed next to his creaking. Alby had sat down, looking over at him. Newt groaned, sitting up.

”Hey there mate,” Newt winced, trying to shift his healing leg,

”Hey,” Alby mumbled.

they sat there for a longer silence than could have ever happened between Newt and Minho. Alby eventually looked down, and then back up,

“I’ve been thinking a lot, about what happened.”

Newt looked away quickly, thumbing at the sheets.

”I told Minho it was a Griever. He believed me, we can just pretend nothin’-“

”Are you going to lose it again?” Alby cut him off. Newt looked up, terrified of the judgment that might be in Alby’s eyes, but instead he just looked worried. Newt sank into the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“I never felt worse than wakin’ up the next mornin’ and realizin’ you an’ Minho would be standin’ over my grave if I did the job right.”

Alby nodded. Newt closed his eyes and breathed in, he could feel his throat staring to ache and his eyes burning with tears. He breathed until it faded away. When he opened his eyes Alby was still there.

“We only got each other in here, and if- if there’s something you need to see, y’know get it off your chest you should say it.”

Newt shook his head,

”Nah, Mate I need…I need some time I think.”

Alby nodded again and scratched the back of his head.

“Minho worries his shuck ass off about you.”

”I wish he wouldn’t,” Newt laughed dryly.

”I worry my own butt too,” Alby added, Newt’s smile faded. “Don’t get bummed man, what I’m tryna say is, you mean a whole big deal to us, and if you were gone we’d be crying our eyes out. So don’t go anywhere any time soon okay?”

Newt nodded. Alby reached forward and sunk a hand into his hair, ruffling it.

Then Alby got up and left. Newt sighed to himself and reached over for his journal. He flipped it open and started writing again.

I don’t think I spend too much time thinking about how much they want me around. Might do me some good to think on that. Might do me a lot of good actually.

Epilogue.

Newt breathed a big sigh out. He was getting used to the crutches. His leg was all wrapped up and protected. He’d gotten used to swinging around the Glade, visiting all the keepers and their boys. Jeff the new Med-Jack had cushioned over the splintery beam that sat under his armpit, because Newt got awful sore there. No thanks to the builders for makin’ him sutch crap crutches.

Today had been long, he’d stood about watching the boys farm. Then he’d hobbled back to get lunch and headed over to the builders to watch them tack more wood onto the homestead. Spendin’ all his time with the keepers and their boys made him real familiar with all of ‘em. He knew the oldest boys and the greenest of greenies. He was a bit of a popular fellow himself, gettin’ waves and welcomes ever time he showed up anywhere. Newt wrapped up with the builders and headed out. Restin’ every once in a while he made the long trek over to Minho’s door.

Newt waited, leaned against the Maze wall. Minho was trainin’ a new runner, former builder, Ben. He and Minho came out at the same time, both red in the face and pantin’ like dogs. 

Newt tossed them both peaches from the new grove. They took the fruit gratefully, tearing into the fruit. Minho sent Ben along to dinner, and stayed back with Newt.

“How was your day?”

“Bloody boring, but ya know, better than layin’ around in bed, how about you?”

“Fine, Ben’s pretty sloppy, but getting better.”

Minho kicked a rock along as he walked, 

“What do Clint an Jeff say?” Minho asked, 

Newt paused for a moment, breathing hard. Minho, even exhausted from runnin’ all day quickly took Newt’s arm over his shoulder. Newt frowned, leanin’ on him,

“You don’t need to do that,” Newt said.

“Don’t you worry your little butt about it,” Minho grunted, shufflin’ along.

After a while Newt got back on his crutches,

“They say I’ll never be a runner again, busted it up that much, but I’ll be walkin’ fine eventually.”

“Screw Clint and Jeff, you’ll run however much you want.”

“Yeah maybe,” Newt sighed, lazily joinin’ in on Minho’s delusion.

That night back up in his clean white bedsheets Newt said his goodnight to Clint and picked his journal back up.

Well the dog that came up with supplies last month is fitting in nicely. Minho thinks he’s a real funny guy naming it Bark. The sweet thing is real quiet. 

I spent the day with Keepers. Zart is doing real well for himself in the gardens, Nick says he’s probably the top pick for keeper of the Track-Hoes (Stupid name I know, but Minho named it) Either way I hope Zart gets it, the kid certainly deserves it.

My leg is getting better, good as it can I guess. Haven’t had any feelings like going off cliffs anytime soon. Thank god I didn’t think of the real cliff when I was set on jumping a few months ago.

That’s all for tonight you nosy shank.

-Newt

[longeyelashedtragedy]

tbh did not send the Lamps chara ask (shy) however I was seriously considering and someone beat me to it. if you feel like it and have time/energy after the others pending then I would massively enjoy expanded Redders thoughts. and/or JT if you like vintage Chels beyond Frank. ik that the skipper (derogatory) corrupted Grealo but he no doubt sunk claws into Frank first

i can definitely do redders for ya! JT i don't know too much about. i know he has some controversies, but that ain't my business lol. i appreciate how he made franko feel and i'm intersted in how the 2 of them have taken different paths both about how they act toward each other and how they talk about roman abramovich post-ukraine war 😂 (would love to hear more about how he corrupted grealo.) BUT. jamie i've got a lot more to say about.

i feel like if you read jamie's odd autobiography and then think of him through that lens, he's a real diamond in the rough of a fascinating footballer. he seems kinda brainless and vapid but i think some of that is because he has too much going on in his brain to use it for that sort of thought. i don't even mean that as a diss. that's a real thing!!! but let's see...

favorite thing about them: well, he certainly seems unpretentious and easy to talk to, which i like. has some good taste in music, is still close to his parents, always takes franko's side and defends him 😂

so, this next part seems like a weird thing to list as a "favorite," as i'm sad he suffers or has suffered in this way, but out of all the things i've read about mental health, both fiction and non-fiction, jamie's book described some of my specific childhood/teenage Horrors so well it was like i wrote it and i was so surprised that he went through all that and admitted it so unselfconsciously. that combination of talented kid with an idyllic life (this was me, albeit in other ways than jamie lol) who lives in this private world of pure fear. some of the things he mentions, like having to paint his room cheerful yellow to ward off Bad Thoughts and Scary things, and being so afraid when he saw the exorcist as a teenager that he slept with the lights on and couldn't get the movie out of his head for weeks--the isolating strength of these kinds of fears is sooooo fuckin real man. he also describes needing to watch the same movie every day for comfort when he got home from school where he got bullied and teased for being a little different, and his attachments to his toys that he'd have to do little rituals with every day to help him feel Calm, and how he took them to school to try to make friends and kids stole them :( he also describes his older self as having something Dark inside him, like when his close friends would become occupied with a girlfriend, he'd kind of freak out and try to get in the way, because he was afraid of losing their support.

his book also describes very sinister perceptions of the external world too, a lot of kind of scary or just ominous scenarios drift through the book (a creep that tried to grab him in the park, the scary, dark corridors under dean court stadium when his Daddy was in charge of bournemouth--i related to that too--, rumors of some weird creep working at tottenham when they wanted to sign young him?)

i apologize if this is repetitive to anyone reading but i had some very particular Problems as a kid and i've just never seen some of them articulated the way jamie articulates them. and i just found all this so...fascinating. i think it explains a lot about his adult self and provides such a contrast between him and brainy franko (see headcanons section!)

least favorite thing about them: he cut his hair and has a beard! i'm predictable--if a footballer had long hair and now doesn't, this will be my response. otherwise, what's there really to dislike? he's kind of inoffensive imho

favorite line: uh a few

"Frank Lampard has a vision for seeing things." (i-hope he actually said that for real)

from his book:

and, for the "franko was too old when he was young" headcanons:

oookay then, anyway:

brotp: idk, who does he hang out with? i like his interactions with the guys on ALOTO even though his main feature is clearly to be the punching bag. maybe with stevie g? with Daddy-Uncle Harry? lmao

notp: his new wife. at first they didn't look as miserable together as he and poor Louise always did, but he just posted a video from their maldives vacation today, and woof--she looks miserable. well, i'm not here for blonde scandinavian models and i think jamie is too childish to do well in a Grownup Married Relationship. again, kind of like with franko, i don't mean childish like... "spoiled entitled manbrat" or "hasn't lost joie de vivre"--more like. is trapped as kid because of his own mind. i think if a therapist saw only jamie and franko as clients, and no one else, they'd be set for life

otp: well...there can be only one. i'd love for jamie & franko to give romeo + juliet their happy ending 😭 they are weirdly...made for each other. and hey--according to the internet it's legal! 🫡👮🏼

random headcanon: so many! lampardverse is sort of all about Jamie in a sense, and i think as a child Jamie so very much appreciated the solid steady presence of his younger cousin. franko's psychological issues are of a very different nature lol, plus we know he's a master of repression (can relate) and we imagine that he'd help jamie with his homework and read him chapters of the narnia book, and eat the food jamie refused to eat.

another one is that jamie is super dependent on his Well-Known Dad. they do a lot of stuff together and idk on ALOTO one of the main purposes seems to get jamie overwhelmed and stressed--because he gets like that very easily--so it feels like Uncle Harry's presence is just. very necessary for him.

fascin8ing! YMMV.

unpopular opinion: i don't think i have one? are there popular or unpopular opinions on jamie redknapp? hahaha

a song i associate with them: hmmm, not really any? i do have him singing shimmy shimmy ya by ODB at franko in "red red red" lol. but i don't really count that 😂

favorite picture of them: let's do a few!

gay af behaviors (affectionate)

whump tendencies

bougie gay cou-- (cousins? couple? choose your own adventure)

THANKS for coming along on this wild ride!

[silostosstuff]

Storytime!

Back then, in 2017. A young girl was 15 when she had to go shopping with her parents (which she ✨️loved✨️). After hours of painfully watching her mother picking shirts she would never wear, her father buying a jacket in the ugliest coulour she could ever imagine and her brother standing in front of two T-shirts that looked the same, she could convince them to go to the bookstore with me.

Of course, she went straight to the small section of kids/ya books and looked at the very small choice of English books they had, and you know what book they had?

Lockwood & Co - The Empty Grave.

It was October, and the book had been published for over a month, but the girl hadn't read it up until this point because she had to wait for the German translation because she did not speak a single word English (and had failed all of her English test/exams/etc).

But when she saw this on the shelf, she thought about buying it. Maybe she could understand it - despite her horrendous English skills.

So she asked her brother for advice and he answered: "Are you mad? You don't even speak a word English? You will not understand a single word."

And she was like: "Yes, I know, but I really want it."

"Yeah, have fun wasting your money, I guess," he replied and looked back at the book he held in his hands.

She thought and thought about it and even messaged her friends for advice (they've answered with a very helpful "that is up to you"). So she went to her father and asked him if she could have the book.

As tired as he was, he replied: "Can we go home if I buy you this?"

"Yes, of course," she said with a bright smile on her face, and her father bought the book.

On their way to the car, the brother judged his sister for buying a boo she would not understand.

When she arrived, she tried to read the first chapter. It took awfully long, and she was disappointed with herself, so she put the book aside for a couple of days. But after a short time, she wanted to know the end of her favourite series, so she picked the book up again and read every page - while translating almost every word.

But she did it. She finished the book in about two weeks and was prouder than ever of herself.

It was the first step of her learning the language properly.

And yeah... That girl was me :)

[natyune-writes]

give us a hyper specific writing opinion U have (good or bad)

ough i have so many opinions. i think i might piss some people off with some of these lmao

enemies to lovers is a bad trope and i don't like it. a lot of the books marketed as enemies to lovers are actually just romanticized abuse, and sometimes other books that are marketed as enemies to lovers are just characters who insulted each other once and are now 'enemies.'

not every book needs a romantic subplot. why is it so hard to find books centered around family dynamics, or completely platonic dynamics? why must everything imply romantic interest? i actually don't mind romantic subplots, it's just that its so hard to find anything without a romance that it can be a bit frustrating sometimes.

i have several very specific book cover icks. i really hate those book covers that look like they were made on canva (especially if its from a bigger publisher and i KNOW they have the money to pay an illustrator to come up with something better). i also really hate a lot of contemporary romance-style covers. they are too similar and its hard to tell them apart. recently book covers have gotten more varied, which is actually great! i really love illustrative book covers, or book covers with scenes from the book on them. i know they say not to judge a book by it's cover, but i am an art kid. i really like pretty covers. sue me lmao

i actually don't like sarah j mass's writing style. i tried to read one of her books (i think it was that YA one? throne of glass iirc) and had to DNF it pretty early on because i couldn't get past the writing being so bland

i actually really like CWs for books. i don't know why some people are so against them. i wish that CWs were more common, actually. because sometimes i'm not in the mood to read something really dark, but its hard to tell from just the blurb is a book will make me bawl my eyes out. (also i adamantly believe that even in books marketed for adults, explicit/graphic content (like overtly violent themes or sexual content and such) should be labelled. they already do that for movies, including ratings and why it was rated that way. i wish there was a way to be more informed about what you were investing your time into in the literary world before you end up feeling ripped off because you ended up stumbling across something you weren't anticipating)

when will book stores/libraries create a new adult category. i wanna read about college/grad school aged people, but sifting through the adult section at book stores is confusing. because books about a 21 year old will be right next to books about a 35 year old divorced person. there's no rhyme or reason.

i have more opinions i'm just getting distracted now so i will leave it at that lmao

[newsie-collective]

Romeo

Quickfire Favorites

Food: “Tha kin ya can eat”

Color: “Blue n red lik me socks”

Season: “Winter, I lik tha snow n it givs me a excuse ta cuddl”

Weather: “Snow duh”

Hobby: “Flirtin if tha count, n pickin up trinkets fo Fin”

Animal: “crows”

Memory: “Watchin Fin sav a baby boid. Him kept it warm in him pocket, was real cute”

Comfort Item: “Ion really got one les Fin count. Him giv good cuddles, speshully wen ya uset”

He gets his nickname as a nod to Romeo from Romeo and Juliet because he gets puppy crushes. He didn’t know why he had this nickname until someone read the book to him.

Fin quotes the line from the play (Romeo Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo) to call for Romeo which makes him smile and his tummy “feel weird n warm n happy”

Romeo has had a crush on pretty much every newsie at some point (and also Darcy and Bill). His current one is on Finch and this one had lasted a lot longer. He had had a crush on Finch before, it seems he always comes back to them. He says it feels different this time, much stronger. He says it gets stronger every time he gets “pulled back” to Finch

Speaking of books, Romeo cannot read.

Romeo can’t read so he really likes movies and video games. When he does watch/play he puts the captions on. It’s his way of trying to teach himself because he’s embarrassed by it.

English is also not his first language which is part of why reading is hard for him

He likes it when people read books to him, but he doesn’t ask for it often because he’s self conscious about not being able to read himself. His favorites, of course, fantasy books with romance (think knight in shining armor and princess)

Romeo does not know his parents. If he tries hard he can sort of recall what his mother’s voice sounded like, but it is all very distant memories. He was in and out of different orphanages. He was supposed to be on the orphan train to some farmer out in the midwest, but instead ran away from the orphanage to join the newsies. New York was all he had known and he didn’t like the idea of moving away

While in the orphanages Romeo was the runt of the litter so to speak. Part of the reason he is so small is because of the overcrowding and the horrible conditions. He was in a crib for way too long and of course never had a bed to himself. He was always last to be fed and sometimes would not get food at all. He was often picked on by both kids and grownups because of the way he looked. 

Romeo has vitiligo. It’s most obvious on his skin, but he does a few sections of hair that have also lost pigment

When his vitiligo started getting worse he was often called a cow or other mean names. He’s very insecure about his vitiligo because of it. He often uses makeup or dirt to hide it. 

Romeo flip flops between thinking he’s hot shit and worrying that he’s being too annoying and that everyone secretly hates him

He tends to pick up interests from other people, especially the ones he likes, because he wants to be able to relate to them. So, for example, he got really into rocks when he first crushed on Finch. When he was hanging out with Jack he tried to learn how to paint, etc etc.

He likes blue and socks with funky patterns

He tries to seem like nothing bothers him and that he can go with the flow, but it’s a cover up for how insecure he is. Because he crushes so easily he has had his fair share in heartbreak. And while he says everything is all good each time he was rejected stung more than the last. Because of this part of him believes he’s not good enough for anyone

He would absolutely wear a dress, but he’s too shy and would never admit it

Romeo is touch starved and craves physical intimacy. Not necessarily in a sexual way, he is perfectly happy with cuddles and kisses. He just craves feeling close with someone. As his name suggests he is a romantic at heart and he really wants to be able to have something like what he sees in the movies

He has a scar on his forehead under his hair from when he got hit with the baton by the police during the strike

Finch. This boy is fuckin obsessed with him. Absolutely head over heels in love

Romeo pictures Finch as a crow because “him smat n him lik ta pick up shiny thins”

Romeo referred to Finch as his songbird once and now all the newsies tease him for it

Finch makes Romeo feel safe and Finch is the one he will go to when he feels insecure or anxious

List of Newsies Resources Masterpost: https://at.tumblr.com/what-goesaround-comesaround/list-of-newsies-resources-masterpost/7hiw94mx9ps7

Romeo

Thanks guys! Hope you enjoyed

🐰

[viscountessevie]

Tagged by the lovely @mermaidsirennikita thanks for the tag! SO SORRY this is months late shxkdjks.

Also to note; I wrote 90% of this post about 4 months ago?? On a call with the brilliant @sophiamariabeckett and @hptriviachamp so that's why they get mentioned alot, anyway let's get to it!

Nickname: S, [Redacted - IYKYK], Sahara,Vi, Evie [I think I’m mostly used to S and Sahara, the latter two are derived from my username lol]

I used to go by Sky when I was younger because people butchered my name but it was also given to me by an ex-friend who tried to whitewash me so I have YEETED that name (will never ever go by it again) and fully embraced my Indian name and culture. Anyways I digress, Sky also earned me the nicknames Sunny, Cloudy, Sunshine. 

Sign: A Fire Sign that fits me

Height: 5′0/155cm

Last thing I Googled: 

[Yall thank Trivia for this search and it’s so fitting for me!]

Song stuck in my head: Would’ve, Should’ve, Could’ve by Taylor Swift (also at this moment: Lavender Haze Acoustic version)

Number of Followers: Over 3k (but 80% are abandoned accounts or probably bots - also you gotta remember I've had this account for 8 years over 3 major fandoms so it's accumulation of that)

Amount of Sleep: 3 to 6 Hours - a lot of afternoon naps 

Lucky number: 8, 19

Dream Job: Novelist and Screenwriter

The List of People I Wanna Work Woth (ranking in order of how much I wanna to work with them): Simone Ashley, Oliver Jackson-Cohen, Zawe Ashton, Frieda Pinto & Dev Patel (tied), Zendaya

Creatives: Wanna write with Mindy Kaling and Trevor Noah, write for Margot Robbie (as executive producer), Cathy Yun, and Jordan Peele

Special mention to Tom Hiddleston, Rahul Kohli and Chloe Zhao for being icons I admire but my writing style/stories and their resumes are in direct conflict 😂

Wearing: A sheer black shirt, it’s giving Simone's Shirt-Dress at Paris Fashion Week

Actually at this very moment (3rd April) though I am wearing this:

The shirt ties in the front and I have cream shorts on. Someone once told me I look like a hot baseball player in this fit lol

Movies/Books That Summarize Me:

Books: 

- A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket (very first book I ever read on my own) 

- The Hunger Games series & TBoSaS by Suzanne Collins 

- Every single Cecelia Ahern book

(save for her YA series and The Year I Met You)

- Shatter Me series by Tahereh Mafi

- To All The Bright Places by Jennifer Niven 

- The Celebrity Quartet series by Taylor Jenkins Reid

[Hugo, Daisy Jones, Malibu Rising, gotta read Carrie Soto soon]

- A Lady For A Duke by Alexis Hall

- What I Did For A Duke by Julie Ann Long

Movies:

90s/00s Rom Coms - that entire genre and era changed me as a person. 

10 Things I Hate About You 

Legally Blonde 

Confession of Shopaholic 

Adding A Barbie Section at the request of Belle & Trivia: 

Mermaid’s Tale, An Island Princess and of course Princess & The Pauper changed everyone's lives

Contemporaries: 

Mr. Malcolm’s List 

The Batman 

Do Revenge 

Look Both Ways

Emily

Shows (Added this in cos Shows have shaped me more than movies): 

Wizards of Waverly Place 

Gossip Girl 

The Royals

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

The Mindy Project 

All Michael Schur shows except Parks & Rec (it was fine but not my vibe) 

Jane The Virgin (BUT I do not claim S5)

Favorite song: Changes depending on the day but I will always go back to Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen 

Special Mention: Right Where You Left Me and Nothing New by TS

Favorite instrument: Guitar to play because I played it when I was 8; piano and violin to listen to - I really am a strings bitch huh 

Aesthetic: I love dressing up in different styles and aesthetics tbh and I would say I dress how I feel. I dress up more when I'm happier and have a lot of statement pieces, more casual when I'm feeling lazy or depressed. But with the statement pieces, I'd say I'm giving theatre kid and I like to dress up like a Hollywood starlet sometimes lmao.

Favorite Author: I have no idea tbh. There's not one single author I've read all their books and liked. Hmm maybe Lemony Snicket but I haven't read Asking All The Right Questions yet. But all the books and authors listed above are a good range.

Ohmygod Cecelia Ahern - I've read and loved all her books!! Shoutout to my mom for getting me into her books during my teen years

Favorite Animal Noise: Rattlesnakes, Elephant’s Trumpet with the whole show of their trunks, Seal clapping and Hyena giggles

Random: So this section is the reason I didn't finish this post when Caro tagged me in it months ago lmao sorry C but now I have a fun random fact to share!

I'm currently on vacation in a tropical country rn and the villa I'm staying in feels so much like Donna's Villa in Mamma Mia - I love it so much! (I might reblog and share pictures of this place in the future but rn I'd like not to doxx myself lol) It's hella homey and I LOVE all the animals here; they have 4 dogs and 2 cats who are all my besties now. (I've never been a big pet person and now I want one)

[iluvrobinbuckley]

Random R.B. Headcannons

Yet again, throwing out hc’s that no one asked for cuz I’m absolute trash for one (1) Robin Buckley 🤷🏻‍♀️

Robin is a book nerd and will always recommend something no matter what genre you throw out there

Has a deep love for gothic lit and Mary Shelley and anyone who Shelley was associated with

Has tried to find as many queer wlw stories as possible for the 80s (Annie on my Mind by Nancy Garden, The Color Purple by Alice Walker, The Hunger by Whitley Strieber, and Carmilla by J. Sheridan Le Fanu to name a few)

Robin is a HUGE Stephen King fan - loves The Stand the most and read all 1152 pages in 3 days because it was “just too good to put down”

Identifies a lot with the character of Carrie in King’s novel due to feeling like an outcast

Absolutely ADORES the 1976 movie with Sissy Spacek - will always recommend it when on shift at Family Video

On the topic of family video, Robin will 100% play the same movie over and over again for a week and just quote the entire thing while Steve just looks like “you’re ridiculous” to which Rob just keeps quoting even louder to prove a point

Nights where she’s working, you come in and sit on the counter until she and Steve are done cleaning and closing - you help out a little too especially with organization

After her shifts over, you drive her home and you rock out to whatever new playlist she made

You spend the night at least twice a week and have your own section of stuff in her room

Her room would be slightly scattered but everything would be in an organized mess ya know?

Like her desk would be messy, but everything has its *specific* space

Has a comfort hoodie she always wears and will let you borrow on days where you don’t feel well emotionally or physically.

Absolutely fuckin loves the Twilight Zone and could watch it for hours

Oh god the amount of times she can just quote the intro out of nowhere would be just so cute and endearing that you’d join in and just laugh and kiss her cheek after

Friday nights were nights for you and Robin (and sometimes Steve) to watch movies and just relax from the week. snacks, candy, pizza, popcorn - I mean they get a discount on it at work after all

Robin LOVES the fair. She will honestly act like such a kid when she sees that it’s in town. Low key she is good at EVERY game they have there and knows all of the ways to win. Balloon darts are her favorite and she will always win you as many stuffed animals as possible and you win her one that she cherishes and just holds the entire night

Has a deep deep love for funnel cakes for no reason

Will only go on rides if you go with her - packaged deal

Will deny it, but she gets really bad motion sickness and will have to play it off - maybe one too many slices of pizza before the Zipper ride 😬

Absolutely LOVES taking Polaroids because “the lighting is pretty” and that it “brings out the color in your eyes”

Secretly scared of the Ferris wheel because of someone rocking the seat when she was younger, but will gladly go on it with you if you hold her hand the entire time

——————————

Now I really want to write a fair fic because that just sounds adorable tbh

a/n: all of these are just my opinion and you don’t have to agree with any of them! I’d love to know some of your hc’s for Robin - throw em my way :)

[tumbling-darkling]

The boy who lived and the professor that didn’t (for the most part)

AO3

During Harry's second year at Hogwarts, a strange and unexpected man starts teaching his Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

(A Danny Phantom X Harry Potter crossover)

Chapter 1

Harry took a seat in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, glancing over to Ron who sat beside him and then scanning the classroom for their new DA professor. He already met the man in Diagon Alley, blonde and very much interested in only himself. Harry shivered as he remembered being pushed towards him as people took pictures of the famous wizard and the boy who lived.

At least it wasn’t worse than a head of the dark lord growing out of the back of the professor's neck.

Well- Harry did thumb through some of the textbooks before classes started. He absolutely agreed with Hermione who was very vocal about the books- they didn’t actually seem to teach anything. Just spoke about the ‘many adventures of Gilderoy Lockhart’.

Maybe this will just end up being an easy class.

The door slammed open 15 minutes past the start of class, startling the students as they swiveled their heads to look at the newcomer, expecting Gilderoy Lockhart.

Instead a tall man with a slim frame and hunched posture strode into the room. He had messy black hair pulled in a very horrible and tangled loose bun with the remaining dreads lazily dangling at the man's shoulders, his chin and cheeks covered in unshaven stubble. His robe was creased and torn, his hat loosely hanging from his hand and his sleeves pushed almost all the way up his arms. What really caught people’s attention was those eyes. Unnaturally clear and bright icy blue, so blue that even in the bright light they seemed to slightly glow.

He quickly pulled down his sleeves as he walked past the students towards the front of the room, grumbling slightly under his breath about something Harry couldn’t catch. He tossed the hat aside, muttering more loudly about how ‘wizard hats are so stupid and impractical I’m not wearing that garbage’ before he turned towards the class.

“My name is Fenton- er Professor Fenton I guess. Since I’ll be teaching you about…” he glanced down at the podium he stood in front of, crouching a little as if looking for something before straightening back up. “Defense… Against the… Dark… Arts,” he said slowly and not very confidently. Then he whispered again to himself but just loud enough for some students to pick up, “they see me fight one god damn ghost and suddenly I’m an expert on all dark magic entities? I think I’ll fight Dumbledore after this.” He straightened a little, eyes looking over the classes.

Harry did not like those eyes lingering on him for half a second longer than the others. He didn’t like this professor looking at him at all.

Something just didn’t feel right.

“Alright, any questions?”

A hand immediately went up, and Harry knew exactly who it belonged to.

“Uh- yes miss-?”

“Hermione Granger. Wasn’t our professor supposed to be Gilderoy Lockhart?”

“Yeah- that guy. He’s a phoney.”

The class went silent before someone yelled out, “WHAT?”

“Guy went around, found Wizards and Witches that did cool things, made them forget it then took all the credit. Tried to take my credit and I hit him a little too hard. Now I’m here taking his place. It’s all over the news, you know. You can read the exaggerated details in there. Anything else?”

The same hand went up.

Professor Fenton sighed, “yes?”

“Why were you 15 minutes late? Shouldn’t professors be on time? And why do you look like you crawled out of the forbidden forest.”

“I fought a ghost. Then got lost,” Fenton deadpanned.

The class went silent.

Fenton then turned around, “well if that’s all, let’s get started with something I know a lot about. What do you already know about Ghosts?”

-

-

-

“You’re seriously more afraid of Professor Fenton than Professor Snape?” Hermione asked Ron. “He’s not even mean! Sure he’s grumpy but he doesn’t beat down every question I ask him! He even seems to be glad I’m asking questions! Unlike Professor Snape who just treats us like idiots for not knowing something.”

“Sure- he’s not mean or cruel but… he just freaks me out. Like how he just stares sometimes at empty walls! Or how the room temperature always drops the moment he seems to take a single step into the room! I can’t even hear his footsteps when he walks! He’s bloody freaky is what he is!”

“Well I for one am glad he’s our Professor! Imagine having a phony for a professor! Though he talks a lot about ghosts. Ghosts can’t cause people harm. At most they give a little scare but it’s not like they could cause terrible damage.”

“What about those ectoplasm based ones he was talking about? The solid ones?” Harry asked.

“Rare and unlikely. Ectoplasm doesn’t form in the magical world, Harry! The stuff that leaks through and hangs in the air is only enough to allow ghosts like Nick or Myrtle to hang around in harmless ways.”

“But he said he fought a ghost before he arrived in class! And he looked really beat up!”

“He said he got lost too! Maybe he just stumbled across a guard dog like Fluffy and made up something about ghosts!”

“What if it’s like the last professor though? What if he’s looking for another secret object in Hogwarts walls?” Harry hissed softly, “Ron is right that he just has a sense of oddness about him! I just don’t trust him!”

“Harry, you’re just paranoid from last year. Professor Fenton is normal. Now pick up your pace, we’re going to be late for our next class!”

-

-

-

Professor Fenton glanced down at Harry, then back at Professor McGonagall, “he has what with me?”

“Detention. You see, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley caused a bit of a fuss by driving a flying car in plain sight of several muggles, and risked exposing the magical world. As such, his punishment has been detention. I trust you can find some fitting work for him to do as he reflects on his actions?”

Fenton crosses his arms, his mouth tightening slightly into a grimace as his fingers slightly tapped his own arms. “This won’t be every night, will it?” He asked.

“No, we will be switching supervisors for a few weeks but you may also need to supervise Mr. Weasley sometime before then.”

Fenron let out a sigh of defeat, “well- alright. I’ll take care of it then.”

Professor McGonagall gave a curt nod before turning stiffly and walking off. Professor Fenton scratched at the back of his neck as he watched her walk off, then glanced down at Harry, those eyes seeming to search him for… something. Then that stern look relaxed into a lopsided grin, “So you were the one that made that stuck up ministry trip over their hats and scramble around in blind panic! I say, hats off to you young Potter!” He laughed.

Harry blinked in confusion at the shift in mood, then Fenton patted him on the back, “hey, no need to look so freaked out! I’m not gonna bite ya!” He began walking forward, and it took Harry an extra second to realize that the professor was moving and he should follow. “Oh, wait you probably are a little freaked out, huh? I guess my mood could have been a bit better this morning, I was just a little flabbergasted today. I was kinda rushed into this position, you know.” He shrugged, his hands shoved into his cloak’s pockets. He didn’t really walk like any of the other Hogwarts professors. He had this relaxed saunter, like he was more of a visiting relative than a staff member. “Say, let’s say your ‘punishment’ will just be helping me bring some books from the library to my quarters. There’s a lot I need to run through and a single trip would make all the difference.”

Harry nodded, finding it hard to keep up with the man's long strides. “So… you don’t like the ministry of magic?” Harry asked.

Professor Fenton huffed in annoyance, “not one bit. They are almost worse than observants!” Harry had no idea what those were. Another level of magic government? “They try to control every little thing. Don’t expose magic to the normal world. Don’t use magic to make technology without permission. Don’t use magic to save muggle children if people are watching.” His said in a mocking tone, “they have so many rules that are outdated or stupid. Never trust a government, kid! Especially a magical one!”

“What are… observants?”

Fenton glanced down at Harry, “oh those stuck up jerks? They are like the government of the ghost realm. Really annoying. Unlike the Ministry of Magic, they actually know how to find me!” He laughed.

“Ghosts have governments?”

“Oh yeah! They have more of a monarchy, the observants are like hermit wizards that only step in when they believe the world is in peril. Meanwhile the rest falls on the shoulders of the Ghost King.”

Harry frowned, “I’ve never read about that in the textbooks. Hermione says that ghosts are just harmless beings formed from souls that aren’t ready to leave the mortal realm.”

“Well she’s half right. There’s different kinds of ghosts, like Sir Nicolas and the Bloody Baron. They are more like echoes. Souls that cling desperately to this world but didn’t have enough ectoplasm to become a fully solid ectoplasmic being. They won’t leave for the infinite realms until they are ready, though many believe they are trapped here forever. More solid ghosts form in a similar way but are exposed to more ectoplasm, but rarely show up because natural portals to the infinite realms are sparse and in between. Well until about a decade ago.”

“Infinite Realms? Natural Portals?” Harry felt like his head was going to explode.

“Well, there should be some books about that in the muggle section.. Though some wizards would say it’s all garbage because muggles discovered and studied it. Just look up my name under the author and you should find some.”

“Oh… wait- did you write them? Is that why you know so much about ghosts?”

Professor Fenton barked out a loud laugh, doubling over as he clutched his sides, “Ah! No! No, I didn’t write them! My parents did!” He cackled. “Ah, yeah but I did learn from them. And a bit of field work. Tell Miss Granger to check them out too, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind having something to read. She reminds me of my sister in that way.” He stopped in front of the library doors, “Aha! I knew we would find this place eventually!”

Harry looked at Professor Fenton in bewilderment, “you didn’t know where we were going?!”

Fenton shook his head and shot him another grin, “nope! I’ve been constantly getting lost in these dumb halls. This place constantly moves and I absolutely hate it. Even the Infinite Realms make more sense than this castle!”

Harry stuttered, “If the infinite realms is where ghosts go, isn’t that like… the afterlife? You’ve been to the afterlife?”

Professor Fenton lazily shrugged and opened the doors to the library, “yes and no. It’s all complicated. I’ll tell you a different time.”

Harry stood there for a few more seconds as his brain tried to catch up with the information, and once he managed to close his mouth he chased after the Professor.

-

-

-

Harry glanced around the Professors room as he followed after him, arms filled with books that seemed to suspiciously be only about the Dark Arts. He’d never been to a professor's living quarters, at most he had been in some offices. Even so, it was not at all what he imagined a wizard's living quarters would look like.

First off, there seemed to be technology. He recognized a coffee machine on a low table, but it wasn’t plugged into anything. There was an odd box that looked like a slightly smaller television, it’s screen black and wires sticking out of it attached to a rectangular box with a lot of buttons on top of it and a small round device. There was also a radio, and a huge telescope leaning out the largest window. As Harry looked, he began to notice spaceships literally in every corner of the room. Different kinds as well, some would even move and blast off. The most amazing part was the roof of his room. It was almost exactly like the great hall as it rose into dark nothingness, but the stars were MUCH brighter and all the constellations had been traced out, some brighter than others. For someone who knew a lot about ghosts, he seemed to really like space. Then there were also some odd things thrown around, like a very weird looking thermos. Or a metal… boomerang?

“Just place them over here, Harry!” Fenton called as he dropped his pile of books onto a couch in the corner. Harry did as he was told, placing the books down a little more gently than the professor did.

“Professor… how did you get these things to work? Technology usually… explodes around magic,” Harry asked.

“Oh! Well it’s because I power them myself!” Professor Fenton chirped. “They don’t work the same way as regular technology. Again, I recommend checking out some of the notes in the Fentons books, they have a lot of stuff that works in the magical realm.”

“Why would you need it though? Doesn’t magic make up for a lot of technology?” Harry asked.

“Ah, but that’s where you are wrong you see! There is nothing in the magical world that is equivalent to the coffee machine!”

Harry blinked, “... what.”

“It’s a very important machine, Harry. You will depend greatly on it once you need to stay up for an entire week. But! It seems our time together has come to an end. Thanks for your help, Harry, and if McGonagall asks, tell her I made you scrub toilets or something,” he winked.

Harry grinned back, heading towards the doorway to go find Ron and Hermione. He closed the door behind and the moment it clicked shut, he saw a flash appear from under the door.

He paused slightly, but shrugged. Maybe a comet passed by on the enchanted roof of his room. He then headed down the halls to find his friends.

-

-

-

“Not normally invited?” Harry asked.

Hermione nodded, “Ghosts throw death day parties like birthday parties, but rarely do they ever invite living people!”

“I see, so Sir Nick really wanted us to be there,” Harry pondered as the trio entered the party area. He immediately was hit with an awful stench, nearly gagging before he had to swallow it as Sir Nicholas noticed their arrival and approached swiftly with the widest smile they had ever seen on his face.

“Harry! Ron! Hermione! You all made it! Oh this brings such joy to my cold, dead heart!”

“Glad to see you as well, Sir Nick,” Harry struggled not to gag on the smell.

“Say, why do ghosts even celebrate the day they died? Isn’t that… like a very traumatic experience you would rather not remember?” Ron somehow managed to ask.

“Well, ghosts like to celebrate it to commodirate a start to a new chapter of our afterlife!” He paused, glancing across the room for a split second, “most ghosts that is, and the death day isn’t to remind us of our death. It more serves to encourage us to look forward! No one really wants to remember how we died. Never a pretty picture.”

Harry followed Nicholas’s gaze for the split second glance, then noticed a ghost he had never seen before. He ignored the smell (they would have to ask about that later) and nudged Hermione, pointing at the ghost, “hey Hermione, have you ever seen that ghost around the castle before? I don’t remember seeing him from last year…”

The ghost in question seemed so much stranger than the rest, he had a brighter glow, where he should have had legs, merged into what seemed to be a ghostly tail, drifting lazily like caught in a breeze. Long hair whiter than snow itself drifted around like caught underwater, and bits that weren’t drifting were braided neatly and lost in the rest of it as it constantly moved. The ghost had purple skin, pointed ears, green freckles dotting his cheeks and long sharp fangs showing as he laughed at another ghost's joke. He dressed like a medieval lord, wearing a delicately detailed black and white tunic tucked into a braided belt circling his waist, his ghostly tail completely black. Thick white leather gloves covered both his hands as he waved them around while he spoke. A white cape hung off his shoulders, but when the cape occasionally drifted to show the inside, it was like the ghost had taken the night sky and attached it to the garment. Thick fur wrapped around his shoulders and long and sharp horns that looked like ice circled his head like a crown.

Toxic green eyes that had irises that seemed to swirl around the pupil glanced at the trio and Harry suddenly felt very very small.

“I… don’t know. I haven’t even heard of any ghost that looked like him before,” Hermione seemed like she was at a loss, probably scouting through her thoughts and memories for any trace or mention of the unfamiliar ghost.

Sir Nicholas cut in, “oh! That may be because King Phantom doesn’t live in this castle! He’s mainly only here to visit for the year!”

Ron gapped, “... did you say… king? Was he a king before he died?”

Sir Nicholas frowned, “no, of course not! He’s the king of all ghosts! King of the infinite realms! The one who defeated Pariah Dark in single combat barely a year after he died! The youngest and most beloved king we ghosts have had in such a very long time.”

“There’s a king of ghosts? And that’s him?” Harry asked.

“That’s what I just said, my dear boy. Keep up!”

“I don’t want to seem rude, Sir Nicholas but… why is he here?” Hermione gasped, “if he really is such a powerful and imposing figure, doesn’t he have a lot of duties to fulfil?”

“Well, he told us he was technically here on business but that it requires time and an investigation that could take a few months. So he could visit and celebrate with us from time to time! He’s a very relaxed man, I assure you. Here let me introduce you all to him! My Liege! I have some friends you absolutely must meet!”

The King looked over and smiled widely, “friends, you say?” His voice echoed more than the other ghosts, seeming to carry across the room as he spoke. He then blinked in surprise and turned to Nick, “Sir Nicholas… you realize these three are still amongst the living?”

“Why of course! Harry is the Boy Who Lived! The first to survive the death spell!” Sir Nicholas said quite proudly.

The King drifted down towards the three, causing Ron to slightly flinch at his approach, his hands clasped together as worry seemed to etch on his face, “well, most ghosts don’t have a very good sense of smell or taste, right? Which is why we have all the rotting food out?”

“Yes?” Sir Nicholas still didn’t seem to catch on.

King Phantom held out his hand, producing clothing hanger clips made purely of ice, “The living can still very much smell and taste, and I don’t think it’s exactly the smell of roses and lavender.”

Sir Nicholas blinked, “oh. Oh! Oh Harry and friends, I apologize for forgetting such a detail!”

Harry, Ron and Hermione all graciously accept the clips, pinning them on their noses to escape the horrid smell. Then Hermione turned towards the Ghost King with a glint in her eyes, “wait- how did you do that? Ghosts aren’t this solid- and they definitely can’t use magic!”

Phantom chuckled, drifting back into the air as he pointed to the crown of ice horns on his head, “Well first off, I’m the king so I get some bonuses. As well as not all ghosts work the same. You should try listening to that Dark Arts professor of yours when he talks about ghosts. He’s quite knowledgeable about all things not living.”

“But- but years of documentation and research-!” Hermione tried to argue before the King tutted.

“Information is constantly changing and growing, something that seems pretty constant could change in seconds and turn your whole world upside down. Not to mention, many different types of ghosts like myself only became more common recently. Before, most of us were confined to the infinite realms, only ghosts like Sir Nicholas forming for many centuries and the different kinds rarely slipped out.”

“Well-, what changed?” Hermione challenged.

King Phantom sported a playful grin, “I d̶͙͉̓̓i̷̢̩̬̘̟̽ę̴̘̲̹̤͌̊d̸̢̳̞̄.”

He then turned and left the three on that note as he went to join other ghosts at the party.

“What does he mean by that?” Hermione huffed.

“He’s got an odd sense of humour, that’s for sure,” Sir Nicholas laughed.

-

-

-

Harry couldn’t stop his glare that shot towards Professor Snape as he accused Harry of petrifying Mrs. Norris and writing the bloody message that stained the wall. Before he could snap back at him that he did not do any of this, Professor Fenton seemed to almost step out of thin air to his defense.

“Mr. Potter was with me all night, he did not do this,” his voice laced with a chilling venom. Was he… lying for him?

Snape tilted his chin up, attempting to look down on Fenton who was no longer hunched, and instead stood tall at his full height. It was quite difficult to do as it turned out, Fenton towered over every other Professor in the area. “And who, pray tell, are you?” Snape seemed to almost spit.

A sinister grin spread across the tall Professor's features as he stepped in front of Harry, leaning menacingly over the shorter wizard and blocking his view of the student, “Professor Fenton, the professor of the Dark Arts. Accusing a second year of such a powerful spell isn’t a very wise take, now is it Professor Snape?” Fenton basically spat his name.

Snape glared back, “you would be surprised what Potter is capable of, especially the trouble he gets himself in.”

“How about you try not pinning the blame on a 12 year old child?”

“That is enough out of both of you,” Dumbledore stepped in. “We all know Harry was not responsible for this, as Professor Fenton’s defence is true. We have a healthy patch of mandrake roots that will cure Mrs. Norris of her petrification, and students will resume their classes while the professors investigate the issue. Now you three will return to your dorms for the rest of the night.”

Harry hesitated before he headed back towards the dorms, but didn’t fail to notice how Professor Fenton’s eyes flashed toxic green, or the wink sent in his direction.

[nightwishesworld]

Oh, I have a request! How about the daughters (who love the reader very much) always taking the reader and practically stealing her every time she’s with Alcina? (Cuz we need more daughters and reader interaction 🥲) And maybe to the point of our precious big dommy mommy gettin ya know ya know jealous? ;)) HAHGSHAHAHAHA, that would be hilarious to see. Anyways, hope you’re havin’ a great time~ ✌🏻till next time!

I’m so sorry this took me so long anon! I’ve gotten more requests than I ever thought I would and I’m starting to get behind. This was a really sweet one to put together though- really enjoyed it!

Slight Gore warning for Cassandra! Nothing too detailed but it is referenced. If you don’t like it just skip her

Bela

Being the eldest sibling has made her the most level-headed of the three. After decades of ending squabbles between her younger sisters, she’s discovered the pleasures of retail therapy. 

She takes great joy in popping off to neighboring villages for a few hours perusing the various aromatherapy shops.

And she takes even greater pleasure bringing you along. Dragging you, really. Even if you’re otherwise busy. Sometimes she’ll buy you a few scents or lotions that catch your eye.

She calls it “compensation for being dragged away from Mother,” but really she’s just happy to spoil you

Also loves asking you for literature recommendations. As vast as the castle’s library is, Bela had read through most of the literature over her lifetime

Is absolutely fascinated by modern day novels. 

She takes you on a day-long shopping spree visiting five surrounding villages just blowing through money buying almost every book that peaks her interest

Most of your time together is spent relaxing in the library talking about your novels. 

Eventually you’ve collected enough books to make an entirely new section in the library just for the two of you.

Even when cuddled up with Alcina in the library, there is simply no escaping Bela when she’s looking for recommendations or simply someone to talk to

At the end of the day, you really didn’t mind. You were more than happy to spend time with all the girls and happy they wanted to spend time with you. 

You knew as annoyed as Alcina got when interrupted she found it incredibly sweet that her daughters will go out of their way to be with you

Cassandra (Cassi)

Suffers from middle child syndrome hardcore

She’s a bit too old to understand Bela’s interests, but too old to join Daniela in her delusional fantasies. So naturally, she tries to cling onto you.

At first she tries to convince you to enter the basement with her so she can show you her “Art Gallery,” but Alcina forbade it. So things between you and Cassi went quiet for awhile

Alcina says Cassandra is an artist of some sort and all her work is done in the basement

After about a month of silence Cassandra came barrelling into your private study with some kind of canvas in her hands

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much, y/n, but I’ve been working really hard on your gift.”

You gush, “oh Cassi, you didn’t have to make me anything. That’s so sweet of you.”

She eagerly flips over the canvas to reveal her painting of a human heart.

It was beautifully detailed, the heart really jumped off the page against the black background...but something was off about it. It took a minute for you to realize it but once you did, you couldn’t stop staring. The heart was painted with blood.

You were lost for words. 

“Well?” Cassi, asked with a broad smile on her face. “Do you like it?”

All you could do at first was nod you head. “Oh Cassandra, its gorgeous. You really made this?”

The girl’s eyes were rapturous. “It’s my favorite hobby! But this particular piece was my first try at observational painting. I hope I did a good job...”

“Are you kidding Cassi? It’s beautiful! I’ve never seen anything like it. Can I hang it on my wall?”

She lunges at you, wrapping you in a suffocating hug. “Thank you, y/n. I made it a heart so you know how much we love having you here with us.”

Tears were starting to prick your eyes. “I love you guys, too.”

You looked up lust long enough to see Alcina walk in your study, roll her eyes and walk right back out.

Daniela (Dani)

Being the youngest Dimitrescu definitely has its advantages and Daniela knows how to use every single one.

Gets away with absolutely everything and anything under the sun. Even things her older sisters could only dream of getting away with and it irritates them to no end.

Daniela is definitely the most daring of the three. Always pushing her boundaries with her mother and will go out of her way to annoy Alcina just for funsies.

Is comfortable (and has) appearing in your bedroom while your, erm...busy with Alcina. Literally grabs you by the arm and swoops you away in a swarm of moths giggling the entire time. You hear Alcina shouting obscenities as you’re taken away.

You’re both thoroughly embarrassed.

Daniela seems to be, just like her mother, very needy. Attention starved if you will. So of course, she’s in need of your presence every hour. Sometimes more. 

And for the dumbest freaking reasons!

“Y/n come quick! Look at the birds in the garden. They’re so pretty!”

You laugh at her excitement “They’re crows, Dani. We see them every day.”

Other times she will drag you to her room and pull out her vast collection of weapons and tell you different stories associated with each one. You loved hearing how passionate Daniela was about her collection.

On a few rare occasions, she even gifted you a set of daggers, or crossbow, or whatever your favorite weapon is.

“You don’t own any y/n, which means you’re vulnerable to attacks. One day I’ll teach you how to use them.”

BONUS: Alcina being absolutely done with her girls not sharing

Late hours of the night are Alcina’s favorite time of day

She gets to relax in bed with you all to herself while shedding away all the stresses from the day. 

More often than not she’ll lazily sip a glass of wine and reread her favorite novel to you while you’re nestled in her lap.

It was the only time of day she knew she had you all to herself

...usually...

One night all three of her daughters barged in your bedroom arguing who you would spend time with first. Alcina tried shouting over them to take control of the situation, but none of them were even paying her attention.

Situations like this call for drastic measures.

Alcina covered your ears and shouted at her girls from the top of her lungs. Once she knew she had their attention she reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a...spray bottle? They were about to laugh at her before she explained that the spray bottle contained holy water.

That scared them enough to make them back up a few steps. Daniela even hisssed at her, baring her fangs like a feral animal.

“I am tired of you three stealing away my y/n and I’ve reached my breaking point. This is the one time of day I’m allowed exclusive time with them and I will not have you getting in the way of that.”

You couldn’t process what was happening before you. Was Alcina really prepared to spray her own daughters with holy water just because she wouldn’t get her cuddles tonight? Really?

Daniela felt bold tonight. “As if you would actually do it. I bet that’s not even holy water.”

Alcina only arched a brow. “Well you’re more than welcome to come see for yourself, Daniela. By all means.”

The redhead was about to do just that until Bela pulled her backwards. “I guess we can wait and see y/n tomorrow. Goodnight, mother. Goodnight, y/n.”

As soon as Alcina knew they were gone she fell back onto the mattress, pulling you with her, peppering you in kisses. 

“Darling,” you ask. “Is that really holy water?”

She chuckles into your neck. “No, it’s not, and they should have known that. If it were I wouldn’t have been able to hold it without it making me feel ill. But they’ll figure that out eventually and once they do they’ll be back.”

“What then?”

“Pelting them with fake silver should do the trick.”

[tulsa-trash]

Book Swap

Request: could you do a modern!pony x reader imagine where you're both in 9th grade and meet at the library, and one day you finally have the guts to ask for his number, so you guys start texting and then you start crushing on him and then you have to figure out how to tell him, so u ask two-bit and johnny for advice

WARNING(S): N/A

You sighed deeply as you began to reread the same sentence in your book for what felt like the twentieth time. It seemed as though you were reading but not even comprehending the words. To be fair, it was impossible to get lost in a book when a familiar cute boy was sitting a table over from you.

Ponyboy Curtis. How does one even begin to describe the amazing human you had the honor of being within five feet of? Unlike most guys in high school, Pony was something special. He was kind and very smart, you knew this because you have English with him. You've never seen someone so into a class before, he also appeared to have an interest in literature, like you. The both of you were nothing but mere acquaintances, and you secretly wished you could change that.

It didn't help that you found him absolutely dreamy. His brown hair was always a little messy, but it still managed to make him even cuter. You always feel your heart skip a beat whenever your eyes would meet his sparkling green ones in the hallways. You'd smile whenever you'd see him laughing with his friends, it showed off his dimples that sunk into his cheeks. Ponyboy Curtis was the boy of your dreams, and the young man was completely oblivious.

Your phone vibrated on the desk you were sitting at. Glancing up from your book, you seen that it was a text from one of your friends. After placing your bookmark in between the pages you unlocked your phone.

Evie: So? Did you talk to him yet?

You rolled your eyes after reading the message, your fingers quickly tapped at the screen as you typed your response.

Y/N: No obviously not. Now leave me alone.

Kathy: Girl go for it! He's a nice kid you said so yourself.

Y/N: Uh nope. Much rather stare at him from afar and not make a fool of myself attempting to talk to him.

Kathy: Well if you don't not only will I embarrass you in front of lover boy, everyone in this library will see me screaming at you and we'll both probably get kicked out.

Y/N: Wait what? How do you know I'm at the library?? Are you here right now???

Kathy: Look over at the fantasy section you nerd. You being you I obviously knew where YOU would be on a Saturday afternoon.

You looked up, eyes widening in shock as you saw your friend hiding behind a bookshelf watching you with a sly grin.

Kathy: Make a move now or I'm coming over there.

With already shaking hands you put your phone in your pocket and grabbed your book. You sent Kathy a pleading look, but all she did was shake her head and point towards Ponyboy violently. Taking in a deep breath, you got up. The chair scraped against the floor, creating a loud noise which made at least five people look up at you... including him.

"Oh god." You mumbled under your breath.

In your peripheral vision you could see Ponyboy's gaze return to his book, taking that as your cue to move you slowly crept to his table. You had made it to the chair directly across from him, he was so caught up in his book he didn't even notice your presence. You smiled softly, his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration while his eyes scanned the pages back and forth. You awkwardly cleared your throat, not too loud to disturb others but just enough for him to tear his attention from his book to notice you.

"Oh, hey." Ponyboy said, "Can I help you with somethin'?"

"Um..." Jesus this was going to be way harder than you thought. "W-Would you mind if I sat with ya?"

"Not at all. Go ahead." He sent you a friendly smile as he gestured to the chair you were at.

His smile. Your legs already feel like jello, you could've sworn you were going to collapse right then in there.

"Y/N, right?" He asked as you sat down.

"That's me. And you're Ponyboy."

"Yep, couldn't forget a name like that if you tried." He joked.

You giggled as you opened your book, Ponyboy returned to his. Curiosity got the better of you when you looked back up to see what he was reading.

"Gone With the Wind." You read aloud.

"Have you read it before?" He asked.

You shook your head, "I haven't, but I've heard only good things about it. I saw the movie about a year ago and thought it was great."

"The book is amazing!" He gushed, only to be shushed by the librarian walking by. "This is my fifth time reading it." He told you in a more hushed tone.

You snickered, "Must be really great."

"What ya got there?"

You lifted up your book from the table to reveal the cover to him, his bright eyes scanned the cover.

"The Boy in Striped Pajamas?"

"I know the title seems a bit odd, but trust me this is a good read." You told him, "This being my third time reading it."

"Well what's it about?" He asked.

You went on to tell him about your book, and he went on to tell you all about his. The both of you began to talk about anything and everything, you were beyond happy that things were going well. You were having so much fun you completely forgot about Kathy spying on you, before either of you could realize it two hours had gone by.

You peaked at your phone and cursed under your breath, the lock screen had a reminder that your shift at work was starting in less than thirty minutes.

"I really hate to end this... but I gotta go." You said.

"That sucks." He said disappointedly.

You couldn't help feeling a little giddy inside to see that he was upset you were leaving. While you got up and gathered your things, you remembered that you wanted to get his phone number badly. You just had to figure out a way to get it without making things awkward.

"Hey, Pone?"

He hummed in response.

"What do ya say we swap books... and numbers? Thats only if you want to. I just figured since we read them already and it was cool talk--"

"I'd like that." He stopped your rambling, only to send you a warm smile while doing so.

You blushed as the both of you swapped phones to put in each others information along with handing each other your books. With a final wave goodbye you left the library, your best friend of course followed after you. She interrogated you with thousands of questions and the both of you walked to work, you gladly answered them all in an almost dazed state. You felt as if you were walking on air for the rest of the day, and you couldn't wait to text him later on.

-

Two weeks had gone by, and let's just say those two weeks have been the best ones of your life. You and Ponyboy had been texting every single day. At first you just talked about each other's books, but then your conversations started evolve to anything and everything. You knew you had liked him before, but your feelings for him have grown drastically. It was beginning to get unbearable holding in how you truly felt, and you weren't sure if you wanted to tell him.

The fear of rejection was one of the main reasons why you've been thinking of just repressing your feelings. Sure, he seemed to like you, but it felt as though he only liked you simply as a friend. Another reason being you were afraid that it would ruin things between the both of you. You had finally become good friends, the last thing you wanted was for everything to end up being awkward all because of you and your silly crush.

After a lot of thinking you decided you needed some advice, and by advice you mean advice thats not only from Kathy. She keeps telling you to go for it, but she doesn't really know Ponyboy well. That's why you got the idea to ask one of his buddies on their opinion. Luckily Pony invited you to watch him and his friends play football. You ceased the opportunity, not only would you be able to watch the boy of your dreams get all sweaty and tuff looking, you could also get one of his friends alone to talk about how you felt.

It was a warm, Sunday morning in Tulsa. The sun was high in the sky and beat down harshly on the group of boys tackling each other in the giant field. You sat under a tree with a notebook in your lap, a cool breeze would rush by every now and then, cooling you off the slightest. You doodled randomness on the blank pages, sketching pictures and honing your writing skills. Every now and then you would glance up and watch the game for a few, sometimes cheering the boys on or laughing when they began to goof off and wrestle each other on the ground.

There was a particular drawing you found yourself enthralled in, as the pencil in your hand smoothly ran across the paper you found yourself sketching a picture of Ponyboy's face. You were so focused you didn't even notice someone come over and take a seat right beside you.

"Nice drawin' you got there." A quiet voice spoke.

You quickly slammed the notebook closed and snapped you head to the right, it was Ponyboy's best friend, Johnny. A tiny smirk was tugging at his lips as he looked at you with one eyebrow raised.

"T-Thanks." You stuttered nervously.

"You like him, huh?" He asked you.

You stood silent as you played with the grass below you, pulling it from the Earth and rubbing it between your fingers. Your gaze was straight ahead watching the game, you were afraid to meet Johnny's gaze that was burning holes into the side of your head.

"Yes..." You hesitated a bit, "I do."

"Does he know?"

"No!" You said hopelessly, "And I'm not sure if I even want him to know."

"Why not?"

"Because he probably doesn't feel the same..." You trailed off.

"Hey now, ya never know." Johnny said.

"What are you two kiddies doin' over here?" A loud voice bellowed.

It was none other than Two-Bit, he staggered over to the both of you before plopping down to your left. He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his forehead and trickling down his neck.

"You tryin' to make moves on Pony's girl or somethin', John?" Two asked playfully.

Your heart fluttered, 'Pony's girl.'

"No way, man. Trust me." Johnny chuckled.

"Pony's girl?" You repeated to him questioningly.

"Oh yeah! I see the way y'all look at each other I ain't blind."

You let Two's words sink in, was it that obvious that you liked him? He even said that Pony looks at you a certain way as well. Maybe there was a chance he shared your feelings after all.

"You think he likes me or somethin'?" You asked casually.

"Oh I don't think, I know."

You smiled softly, butterflies erupting in your stomach. In the back of your mind you worried that you were getting your hopes up a little too high, but you couldn't help it.

"I like him too." You admitted.

Two-Bit scoffed, "Tell me somethin' I don't know."

"Well... what should I do?"

"Tell him." Two replied.

"I agree." Johnny piped up.

Both nerves and excitement began to bubble up inside you as you got up and gathered your things.

"Where are you off to?" Johnny asked as you began to jog away from them.

"Gotta head home. Tell Ponyboy I'm sorry I had to leave but I'll text him later!"

"See ya later lover girl!" Two-Bit hollered after you while preceding to make kissing noises.

You laughed to yourself and shook your head, "Idiot."

-

Y/N: Whats up Pone-bone?

Ponyboy: Nothing much lil lady, and yourself?

Y/N: Same. Btw sorry for leaving so soon today, had some things to do.

Ponyboy: It's alright.

Hey what were you, Johnny and Two talking about? They didn't try to tease you or nothin right?

Y/N: Nooo ofc not they were just chattin

But thats actually what I wanted to talk to you about...

Ponyboy: Well... Go on then

Y/N: Okay I'm just gonna say it

I like you

like a lot

Ponyboy: As a friend or?

Y/N: No silly, like more than friends...

Ponyboy: Wait actually?

Y/N: Yes Pony

Ponyboy: Seriously??

Y/N: OMG YES!!

I LIKE YOU A LOT!

... im sorry if it weirds you out

Ponyboy: NO! NO IT DOESN'T.

SORRY

... Just wanted to make sure this isn't a prank or whatever.

But in all seriousness yes, I like you a whole lot.

Y/N: Are you sure?

Ponyboy: Positive doll

Do you wanna grab some milkshakes at the Dingo next weekend?

Y/N: Are you asking me out onna date Curtis?

Ponyboy: Yes, I am ;)

Y/N: Well I would love to :)

[theonewiththefanfics]

Heartbreak For A Gift (Part 1/?)

Synopsis: Sometimes relationships start off like love stories in books. And sometimes they fall apart in a minute.

(Kind of an AU! I guess??)

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst bruh

Warnings: swearing, sadness, angst, but nothing else that I can remember. Minimal editing

Word count: 2547

A/N: Please note I don’t know what the situation is between Harry and Olivia, if it’s a stunt or they’re actually dating. Whatever the case do not harass them. This is fiction and only for the purposes of the story. If they’re actually together - GOOD FOR THEM!!! No one is entitled to other people’s private lives!

Can be read as a one-shot if ya want, but I might turn this into a very small series cause I already have ideas as to where to go further with this, so hit me up if that’s what you’d like :)

If you know you’re a part of my tag list and see you’ve been crossed out, it means I can’t tag you for whatever reason. If you still would like to be a part of my tags please message me with your previous username and updated so I can update my lists :)

When she’d first said yes to going out with Harry, she’d had zero ideas as to who he really was. Well, that was a lie, she obviously knew of him, it’s not like she completely lived under a rock, and she’d seen a couple of his interviews, but 'One Direction' or Harry Styles as a solo artist hadn’t been that big of parts of her life, so she didn’t really care much for it.        They’d met at a bookstore on a sunny day in London. That’d been a good day. Her boss had let her go home a bit earlier than usual, the weather was warm, but not it’s-so-warm-I’m-sweating-my-ass-off kind of warm, sunglasses covering her eyes and hair free as the warm summer winds blew through her locks she was walking beside the Thames on her way inside the heart of the city.        Because she had a little bit more free time, she decided to pop into Waterstones, which was generally not a good idea for Y/N to do if she had things in store for the day; this time she could spend the rest of the evening if she wanted to, browsing books and living her best life.        Surprisingly for London, that particular Waterstones, even though it was in a densely populated area, was pretty empty, so Y/N felt free to skim through the options without having to press through a crowd of people to find the next section.        As she scanned what the shelves of New-Adult fiction offered, a man also came to look at the books. He stayed a bit further away, but he was certainly someone who caught people’s attention with the bright green daisy-print covered T-shirt, chequered shorts and the three scrunchies on his wrist.        The thing was as much as he’d grabbed Y/N's attention, she was more interested in the Waterstones exclusive edition of a book she’d been dying to buy, so when she saw it just sitting on the shelf, a small gasp escaped her lips.        Two eyes were immediately on her, and Y/N could feel them slip back onto her form from time to time as she greedily paged through the book, but she couldn’t say her own Y/E/C eyes didn’t flit over to the man as well.        He had a small bun on the top of his head, curly hair pushed away from the face, cheekbones for days, which were shaved and smooth and perfectly groomed brows arching over what seemed to be green orbs which were looking at the spine of a crime book way too intensely for it to be genuine interest. All in all, his side profile would be that of one of the characters Y/N’d simp over in a book, let alone the nails painted all colours of the rainbow which made her happy because nothing was better to see someone sticking it to the patriarchy.        But their little meet-cute was interrupted as an employee apologised while he tried to squeeze past them with a giant cart filled with new release books, and almost like a lost puppy, she started to follow the stacks of books when a hand on her shoulder made her spin around only to be faced with the man. She instantly recognised his face, but, at the same time, couldn’t really pinpoint what it was about him that was so familiar.

       “Sorry,” he said in a rough voice. “But you left this behind.”        And in his hands was the Waterstones exclusive.        Y/N’s eyes widened as she gingerly took it from him. “Oh my god, thank you! I’ve got no idea how I let it out of my fingers.”        He chuckled, motioning with his chin to the employee disappearing by the corner. “I’d say you got distracted.”        “Yeah, a little.” She bit her lip and drummed her nails against the cover of the book. “Well, uh… thank you. For not grabbing it for yourself.”        But he just lifted his hand. “More of a Murakami kind of a man.”        “Yes, well, I,” she nodded towards the book in her own hand, “like to read about people living out my dreams.”        He raised his eyebrow. “It’s a murder mystery.”        “Your point?”        “Would you say I have issues then if I wanted to ask you out on a date?”        Y/N’s heart stuttered in her chest, but he looked so nervous, so genuinely open and almost scared, she couldn’t feel any ill intentions from him, so she tapped her chin a bit as if contemplating before saying, “No. I’d say you have good taste actually.’        The relieved laugh he let out made him seem even prettier than Y/N already thought he was.        He extended his palm towards her, swaying on the balls of his feet a bit. “ ‘M Harry. Would probably be proper to know my name before we go anywhere further.”        “Y/N.” She smiled and clasped his hand in hers. “And it would probably be proper to know I was kidding about the whole ‘watching others live out my dreams’. People living out my dreams are actually in the books having hot sex with Fae.”        His laughter was loud and sudden, making Y/N duck down like she was in her Uni library and the librarians would come and shush them. But now, almost two years later since they’d first met, there was no sign of those butterflies she’d felt in the middle of the thriller section of Waterstones. Now Y/N was sitting by a large table, body slowly numbing as was her mind to keep the pain from her heart spreading. Whatever Jeff was talking about now, she didn’t hear. There were eyes on her, had to be to gauge her reaction, but they wouldn’t get anything more than slightly parted lips and a blank stare turned towards the marbled top.        She knew Harry was nervous; from her peripheral vision, she saw his thumb scraping at the rest of his nail lacquer, chips of pastel yellow and green polish flaking off and floating to the carpeted floor.        Y/N didn’t like LA. She’d never wanted to go there. Maybe as a tourist for a couple of weeks sometime down the line, but because of Harry and his commitment to ‘Don’t Worry, Darling’ and because he’d basically pleaded with her for days on end, she’d agreed to move there with him for the time he was shooting the movie.        It’s not that the city wasn’t beautiful. The sun, the sea, the greenery surrounding her was absolutely breath-taking, but it was the people that she didn’t really mesh with. Sure, she knew dating Harry came with a lot of what LA’s society was like. The need to look absolutely physically perfect to match the unachievable barbie standard, the fake niceness people usually exhibited just to get something for themselves or possibly raise them higher on the popularity scale, but Harry had always wiped away those doubts. But now all of that seemed like one big lie. He’d told her he didn’t care for any of it, not when it concerned Y/N nor when it concerned himself. But the contract in front of them said something different.        A hand touched her back. “Y/N?” Harry’s voice was tentative, wavering at the end of her name.        For the first time since the proposal had been thrown out, she lifted her eyes to look around at the people in the room.        Harry, Jeff, both their attorneys and Olivia Wilde and her attorney. The other woman, once their gazes met, immediately looked away. Y/N wanted to scoff at that.        “What…” Harry gulped, brushing a hand across her back. She’d never flinched away from him, but this time she did. Harry visibly shrunk in his seat and pulled back. “What do you think?”        What did she think? Well, she was thinking a lot of things, and the urge to say all of them was immense, but instead Y/N bit down on her tongue, reaching for the legal papers in front of her and skimmed through them.        She’d read each and every word as they’d been read out loud by the attorney, and every letter had been burned into her brain now. There was no way to get them out from her mind, and they’d haunt her forever.        “The fact that you’re asking me what I think of it already means you’re considering this.” Surprisingly enough, her voice was steady even though she was on the verge of collapsing after everything. “So, I’ll make this really easy for you – do it. Because, from now on, you’re a single man and you can do whatever the fuck you want.”        Harry’s face paled immediately at her words, hand moving to grasp Y/N’s, but they were in a tight ball in her lap, not moving an inch at his touch.        “Y/N, please.” Olivia was the one reaching out now, a pained and terrified look on her face, but the girl just stood up from her chair and went to the coat rack taking her coat and the bag that was discarded by it.        “No, you asked what I thought.” Tears had started to form in her eyes while she shrugged on her jacket. “This is what I think. If you even for a second assumed I’d be alright with this shitty stunt, Harry, then through the last two years we've spent together, you’ve learned nothing about me, and to me, it means it’s not worth it.”        Harry was now standing, desperate to touch her face, but Y/N once again pulled away.         “You two,” Y/N said pointing between Olivia and Harry, their faces twins of fear and regret. “Have never needed publicity. Not like this, so don’t try and bullshit me that this will make great promo for the movie. There are so many other ways you could drum up interest, but this…” She let out an unamused chuckle. “How could you think I’d be okay with you pretending to be in a relationship with someone else?”        “No, please… just hear us out. You don’t know what it’s like.” Harry tried to plead, hands in his hair, but it was the wrong thing to say, as she took a step back, eyes wide in disbelief.          But Y/N was calm, and with how rigid Harry became he knew he’d fucked up more than before.        “I don’t understand?" she breathed. “The number of things and events I’ve said ‘no’ to… the…” Her voice was as still as the sea before a storm as she took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Harry wants Y/N there for the opening of his tour, so Y/N drops everything and flies out even though she misses a presentation that could have her up for a promotion. Harry doesn’t want to be seen walking inside a club with someone, so Y/N goes to the back entrance to save his face. Harry is tired and just wants to sleep, so Y/N passes on her friends’ birthdays because he wants cuddles. What Harry wants, Y/N does. And I did. I did all that happily while keeping our relationship private while snaking in and out through back doors like I was some dirty secret of yours just so you could keep the illusion you’re single…” Y/N shook her head. “I think I understand very well… But now… it’s my turn, my time to ask of you something.”        “Anything,” he pleaded, probably thinking that Y/N was going to ask him not to go with Jeff’s stunt, and he’d gladly tell them all to fuck off if it meant her staying. “I’ll do anything.”        “Let me go.”        If Harry’s heart hadn’t been in his chest you would’ve been able to hear it break as it smashed against the floor.        “Let me go,” she repeated. “And don’t come after me. Because I won’t take any part in this.”        “But –,” he was choking on his words. “But I don’t want to. I love you; I can’t just let you walk away like that. I won’t do it, none of this is worth it.”        “And I didn’t want to do a lot of things, especially sit in a meeting on Valentine’s day where my boyfriend was talking about faking a relationship to promote a fucking movie, but here we are.”        This time when he reached out to cup her cheek, Y/N let him. “Please. I swear I won’t do it, just please let’s talk about this. Don’t give up on me.”        But she was unwavering. “For the rest of our relationship, however long that might’ve been, I would’ve wondered if you hated me if you despised me for not agreeing to go with it if the movie didn’t do as well as your management predicts it will with this. And I won’t have that. I won’t be in a relationship where every second will be spent in doubt that I’m stifling your career and you could potentially resent me.”        “I could never hate you.”        “Yeah.” She let out a sob. “You actually claim to love me but would be willing to put me through that kind of fuckery, so something has to be a lie.”        Without looking at anyone else in the office, Y/N stepped away from the man who once made her feel like she could conquer the top of the world and opened the door, but didn’t even manage to take a step outside when the voice of the person she never wanted to hear from called after her, and although Y/N had been calm and collected, she snapped at him. “Oh, don’t worry, Jeff,” she snarled. “It’s not like I can talk about anything that happened here. You made sure of it. Smart move, by the way, I’d say you should continue it. NDAs right before any meeting… I guess that’s how you keep your clients' careers spotless, so your stunt won’t be exposed.”        The way she whipped around to move towards the door would’ve given her whiplash, if not for Harry standing in front of her, arms weaving around to keep her in place.        “I’m sorry." He was verging on hysterics. "Please just… please Y/N don’t…”        It seemed like he no longer even understood what he was pleading for. For Y/N to not break up? To not leave the room? LA? All he knew was that if he let her walk out of the door, he’d never see her again, and she’d make sure of it.        “No, Harry, I think I actually will, because the thought of being in the same city as you, is going to make me throw up right now,” Y/N said eyes not daring to meet his, because if she did, she'd break and her resolve would dissipate. “Besides, you have loads of things to talk about. By the time you get back, I’ll have my stuff out of the hotel. And Jeff?”        His manager looked sheepish as she glanced at Y/N.        “The least you owe me is a ticket back home. The first flight you can find.”        He didn’t answer, just nodded. She didn't deign to thank him.        “Happy fucking Valentines to you two.” She looked at Olivia and Harry, who was breaking apart at the seams, but no longer could she find it in herself to care. He didn’t care enough about her anyway. “Hope you have a very happy relationship.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​ @raylovessarcasm

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

A/N: I’m (kinda?) back? I guess. I dunno. I’m in this weird place where I’m writing my books and then I get inspo for fics and I start writing them, but can’t seem to finish them so I dunno :D

P.S. what did ya think?

P.S.S. please don’t repost my works on other platforms (Wattpad Ao3 etc without specific written permission)

P.S.S.S. my tags are always open :)

[batfam-rewrites]

Batfam During Quarantine: Retirement

Dick pulls up in front of the apartment that Barbara and her family lives in. He takes out his boom box and sets in a cassette tape. He sets the volume to the maximum setting. He holds the boom box over his head as Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” starts playing.

Dick: BABS!!!!

He waits out there for a few minutes until she opens up the window and leans out of it.

Barbara: You Dick!

The song ends and starts playing “I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing” from Aerosmith.

Dick: BABS! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! PLEASE TALK TO ME!

Neighbor 1: GO HOME!

Dick: I’M DOING THIS FOR LOVE!

Neighbor 2: LOVE IS DEAD YOU SCHMUCK!

Dick: YOU’RE HEART IS DEAD!

Neighbor 3: SHUT THE FUCK UP KID!

Jim Gordon: DICK, IT IS 5 AM! GO THE FUCK HOME!

Dick: FINE!

The next night

Dick walks up to the door to the Gordon family’s apartment. He knocks on the door and Jim opens the door.

Dick: Hey Jim, I was sorta expecting Babs to open the door.

Jim: *looks at the cards in Dick’s hands* Just take a hint kid. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.

Dick: I’m persistent, it’s part of my charm.

Jim: Whatever. *shuts the door*

A minute late Barbara opens the door.

Dick: *holding the cards*

Barbara: They’re facing you.

Dick: *looks down and flips the cards around* “Babs, I know I messed things up by *flips the card* not telling you Helena was staying at the *flips the card* mansion. I want you to know that you are *flips the card*

Barbara: *shuts the door on Dick*

Dick: I still have twenty-something cards left. At least finish reading them.

Two days later at the grocery store

Barbara is walking down the aisle looking for food. The music playing over the speakers as a voice replaces the music.

Dick: You’re just to good to be true. Can’t take my eyes off of you. You'd be like Heaven to touch. I wanna hold you so much. 

Barbara starts looking around the store for Dick and sees him leaning against a wall with one of the phones.

Dick: *notices Barbara and points to hear and then makes a heart with his hands* At long last, love has arrived. And I thank God I'm alive. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you. *plays the instrumental part on his phone*

A store employee now spots Dick and heads towards him.

Dick: I love you, baby. And if it's quite alright. *struggles to keep possession of the phone* Get away, you’ll sing next. I need you baby *still fighting for the phone* To warm the lonely night. *starts climbing between the wall and the refrigerated section* I love you, baby. Trust in me when I say.

Barbara starts walking away embarrassed.

Dick: Oh, pretty baby, wait Babs, where you going? Babs? Babs? BAAABBS! LET ME ME LOVE YOUUUUU!

Daily Briefing

Dick: Okay, while things are a bit peaceful now, they’re not going to stay that way forever. Let’s try to plan ahead now and see if we can recruit any former members of Batman Inc. Tim, Steph, and Duke, you guys need to try and convince Luke to come out of retirement. Kate and Babs you go try and convince Bette to join us in Gotham.

Jason: What are the rest of us doing?

Dick: Selina, Jason, Harper, Cass, and Damian will patrol and hand out mask later today....

Harper: Cool, glad I can finally do something!

Jason: Got it!

Dick: And I will be sulking in my room!

Damian: Try again, Grayson.

Dick: I will be on patrol and handing out mask as Nightwing! Julia will be on monitor duty and Helena, tonight you’ll be on sanitation duty.

Helena: *sexually* Whatever you say.

Selina: Oh god!

Duke: Please stop!

Tim: There is a child present!

Jason: *Laughs hysterically* Am I the only one who still thinks this is funny?

Stephanie: Apparently so!

Dick: Alright, let’s get moving.

Tim, Duke, Stephanie, and Luke

Tim: Damn, it’s nice to finally be out of the mansion!

Duke: We were on patrol almost every night.

Tim: Yeah, but as Red Robin, not Tim Drake.

Stephanie: I mean, I guess that’s true.

Tim: *knocks on the door* 

Luke: *opens the door* Hey guys, it’s been a while!

Tim: Hey Luke, how have you been!

Luke: Not bad, Tim! What about you guys?

Tim: Could be better!

Stephanie: Not bad!

Duke: Send help!

Luke: Their dysfunction has gotten to you I’m assuming?

Duke: Maybe.

Tim and Stephanie: We’re not dysfunctional!!!

Luke: Relax! I’m talking about the others.

Tim: Kay, coolcoolcool.

Stephanie: Yeah, the others are pretty dysfunctional.

Luke: Anyways, come on in guys. Take a seat in the living room.

All three walk in and sit in the living room.

Tim: Okay I’m going to cut straight to the point, things aren’t going to be so peaceful for so long. It’s only a matter of time until the Joker pops up with a futuristic Batsuit or some dude comes in with a plan to destroy Batman in multiple ways.

Luke: I’m not coming out of retirement, Tim.

Stephanie: Why not?

Luke: Because I can’t stand to go back being some vigilante trying to save the city. I mean don’t you guys get tired of feeling like the weight of this city is pressing down on you every time you put on that mask.

Tim: Yeah, but I mean it’s not that bad.

Luke: When was the last time you slept.

Tim: Like 6 hours. Plus 2 days.

Luke: That’s my point! This is a thankless job that you guys work your ass off for.

Duke: Yeah coming here may have been a mistake. Let’s go guys, Luke’s not coming back.

Stephanie: Why not stay here Duke. I mean, Luke is right. We risk our lives to save some fucks who don’t give two shits whether we live or die. Sure they’d be sad if we did, but they would only be sad because that would mean they’d have to actually defend themselves!

Tim: Yeah, that is a great point!

Stephanie: Woooo let’s get hammered, this is my retirement party fuckers!

Luke: You’re not drinking alcohol! You’re under age!

Stephanie: Whatever! *stands up and walks out the door*

Duke: Tim, let’s go!

Tim: Yeah, I mean it’s probably about time I retired too!

Duke: Damn it!

Damian and Jon

Damian sets up a zoom call with Jon

Damian: Hey, Kent.

Jon: Hey, Wayne.

Damian: Why must you mock me?

Jon: Why must you mock me?

Damian: Goodbye!

Jon: No, wait, I want attention!!!!

Damian: Works like a charm. How’s it going over there?

Jon: Not bad, it’s super boring. I wish I had 50 people staying at my place.

Damian: No you don’t! It is awful. I want to punch Drake constantly, Grayson is always trying to hand out hugs, Todd tried to kill me!

Jon: The hugs don’t sound....

Damian: Row turned my knife into an electric razor...

Jon: How...

Damian: Kyle keeps trying to bond with me, Cain tried to stab me because I stole a waffle from her, Bertinelli and her lust for Grayson is annoying! Honestly, Pennyworth and Thomas are the only ones who haven’t managed to piss me off.

Jon: You know what, I take back what I said earlier.

Damian: Wise choice.

Jon: Hey, remember the time your dad almost adopted me?

Jason: *talking in the hallway*

Damian: That was funny. Hey I got to go, I’m about to go on patrol.

Jon: During the day, I thought you guys were nocturnal.

Damian: No, we are not. We’ll talk later.

Jon: See ya!

Damian: Bye. *rushes to the door to see if he could hear Jason*

Jason: I’ll see you there. *walks off*

Damian: *walks out of his room and sees Selina* 

Selina: Hey Dami, you ready to go on patrol?

Damian: Actually, we have a change in plans.

Nightwing

Nightwing: *sees a kid walking by without a mask, he squats down and waves* Hey what’s up little dude!

Little kid: *runs away from parents and hugs Nightwing*

Parent: Hey! Sorry, we’re still trying to get him to understand what social distancing is.

Nightwing: It’s okay, he’s young, he’ll eventually get the idea. I see that someone lost their mask though! Do you like super heroes kiddo!

Little kid: *nods excitedly* Batgirl is my favorite!

Nightwing: Really! Batgirl is my favorite, too! Hey, let’s get you another mask buddy! *reaches into the box of mask he has and hands a Batgirl mask to the parent to put on the kid’s face*

Parent: Thank you so much! *puts the mask on the little kids face*

Nightwing: No problem! Stay safe! *waits a bit longer and puts in an earbud*

Nightwing: *sees another guy not wearing a mask* Hey, how about we wear a mask buddy!

Guy: Piss off!

Nightwing: Come on. Let’s try to think about everyone else.

Guy: Who cares! If I get the virus I won’t die! It’s only the old people who are dying! 

Nightwing: Okay, please tell me your joking.

Guy: I mean, you don’t really see much other people dying.

Nightwing: If you pay attention to the statistics you would see that there are other people who are 20, 30, 40 years old and dying from this virus! Can you just put the mask on?

Guy: Hell no, it’s uncomfortable for me!

Nightwing: UNCOMFORTABLE FOR YOU! I HAVE TO WEAR ONE FOR LEGIT MOST OF THE DAY. OUR CITIES FIRST RESPONDERS MUST WEAR ONE TO DO THEIR DAMN JOBS. NO ONE, ESPECIALLY ME OR ANY NURSE, FIREMAN, POLICE OFFICER, ET CETERA, CARES IF IT BOTHERS YOU! PUT ON THE DAMN MASK!!!

Guy: Damn. *starts walking away*

Nightwing: *grabs cologne* Sir, don’t make me do this.

Guy: Do what? Bit......

Nightwing: *sprays cologne all over the guys face*

Guy: pffft. pfffffftt. 

Nightwing: I bet you’d like a mask now!

Guy: YOU FUCKING SON OF A

Nightwing: *spays the cologne at his face again* Hey! *throws a mask at the guy* No profanity! There’s kids around. Put on the mask, too. 

Guy: *puts the mask on reluctantly and walks away* Stupid vigilante in this stupid damn city. Hate this damn place.

Nightwing: *watches him walk away for a bit* Never thought I’d take a page out of Jay’s book.

Julia: Nightwing, need you over in Gotham Heights. There’s a.... *clears throat*..... situation over there. I’m sending you the coordinates now.

Nightwing: On my way! *takes off firing the grappling hook into the side of a building as he takes off*

Jason

Jason walks towards the house, checking his surroundings to see if any of his “family” members followed him. Fortunate for him, Dick is preoccupied with his thoughts and Damian and Selina left after he did.

He opens the door and walks inside of his safe house. He then sits down, takes off his helmet, sets it down on the table, and turns on the tv to watch Supernatural. Not long after Roy walks downstairs.

Roy: What’s up Jaybird?

Jason: Not much Roy.

Roy then sits down on the couch next to him to watch with him.

Roy: Is it just me or would Jensen Ackles be the perfect person to play you if there was to ever be a movie about you?

Jason: I KNOW, RIGHT!!!! Hey do you want to order some pizza?

Roy: Sure!

Roy begins to pull out his phone when they hear a knock at the door.

Jason: Hide! 

Roy: Hey it’s my safe house, too!

Jason: It’s my city! Hide!

Roy begins to hide as Jason looks outside the door to see Damian and Selina outside the door. 

Jason: *opens the door* Hey Catwoman, Robin! What are you guys doing here?

Damian: More importantly, what are you doing here?

Jason: Following up on a lead. I saw a very shady guy leave here so I’m looking for some evidence.

Selina: Are those your guns on the counter? And your helmet and phone on the table?

Jason: No.

Damian: Then where’s your guns?

Jason: Okay, I hate to admit it, but I came across a dog and decided to pet it, then it bit the barrel of both guns and ran off.

Selina: Mmmmhhhmmmm and why don’t I believe you?

Jason: Because everyone but Duke has trust issues.

Damian: Give it up, Todd.

Jason: Give what up?

Damian: *walks over to the closet and opens the door*

Roy: Woah, how the hell did I get here!

Jason: *shakes his head*

Tim, Duke, Stephanie, and Luke

Duke: Dude, you broke Tim and Steph.

Luke: No I didn’t!

Duke: Really because we came here to try and convince you to be Batwing again and yet you somehow got them both to decide to retire!

Luke: So, they should! They deserve it. No kid should have to deal with that kind of stress!

Duke: Dude, we live in Gotham freaking City. Stress is literally stuff we learn in 6th grade because our parents need us to get jobs!

Luke: You had to get a job in 6th grade?

Duke: Oh right, sorry I forgot you all are rich! Hey, where’s Steph and Tim?

Luke: Outside somewhere.

Duke: DUDE!!!! WE HAVE TO FIND THEM!!!!!!

Luke: They’ll be fine!

Duke: Whatever. *walks towards the door* If you change your mind, you know where to call. *he walks out the door*

____

Tim: *grabs a helium tank* Hey Steph!

Stephanie: *turns around*

Tim: *pulls down the mask and inhales the helium* I am vengeance, I am the night, I am BATMAN!

Stephanie: O-M-G!!! That is amazing!

Jason, Roy, Damian, and Selina

Selina: So again, Jason, what are you doing here?

Jason: Trying to get away from you people! Do you know how often I want to shoot Dick alone from all of the stupid stuff he does! 

Damian: Yes!

Jason: You’re no better. You can not adopt stray animals every week!

Damian: They can catch the virus, too! They need a home!

Jason: They have one! In the wild somewhere!

Selina: What’s your point?

Jason: I needed a place to escape you idiots at the mansion. There’s only so much I can take before I break B’s no killing rule.

Damian: Then why is Harper here?

Roy: Jaybird has been my emotional support person since Kori left Earth for Tamaran.

Selina: I can see that.

Damian: Is this where you’ve been every single patrol?

Jason: Not every one. Only when I get sick of you all. 

Selina: Everyday!!!!

Roy: *laughs uncontrollably*

Jason: Not everyday!!! Look, this is why I need this place, because I can’t stand you fuckers!!! Get out of my house!

Damian: How did you even pay for this place?

Jason: I USED TO KILL PEOPLE FOR A LIVING!!!!

Selina: Jason, your not supposed to even be here. We need to leave now.

Jason: Yes you fucking should!

Selina: I meant all of us!

Jason: Good luck with that! You’ll have to drag me out.

Damian: Just watch us do it!

Roy: This is getting a bit personal, I’m gunna grab my bow and leave.

Jason: Stay Roy!

Roy: Okay, I’ll stay!

Selina: How are we so awful? What is it that we do that bothers you so much?

Jason: I don’t want to talk about it!

Selina: What is it?

Jason: You guys make me want to actually be a part of the family! You guys care for me, and make fun of me *starts crying* and make me laugh, and it’s not fucking fair!

Selina: Jason..... I’m.... I’m sorry. Why are you crying?

Jason: Because this shit has always been unfamiliar to me! Family has always been fucked up for me before Bruce. When he took me in I didn’t know how to feel because at that point my life was filled with rage, sadness, and confusion. *sits down on the couch* Then came in Dick, who at first made me feel at home with how much he hated the fact that I replaced him, until a few months go by for him to accept me as a brother he never had. Then I fuckin’ died!

Selina: *sits down next to Jason* It’s okay if you want some time away from us, I understand now that this is new. We won’t ever stop loving you Jason. If you ever need a break from us then I’ll cover for you, just don’t be out for too long.

Jason: Thanks Selina.

Roy: *starts humming Love Is A Battlefield*

Selina: Are you humming Love Is A Battlefield?

Jason: He is so humming Pat Benatar right now.

Roy: No, you’re all just hearing things.

Damian: Who’s Pat Benatar?

Jason: Okay, GET OUT!!!!

Selina: *rushes themselves out the door* Let’s go Dami, we’ve overstayed our welcome!

Damian: But my phone!

Roy and Jason: GET OUT!

Tim and Stephanie

Stephanie: *dancing in a strangers house* Woooo!!!

Tim: *break dancing to “Dirrty” in the middle of a dance circle*

Stephanie: *nudges the person next to her* I’m friends with that guy!

Stranger: Nice!

Stephanie: I know right!

Tim: *steps out of the dance circle* Hey!

Stephanie: How many Red Bulls did you have?

Tim: How many legs does a wolf-tigark have.

Stephanie: What!

Tim: I’m super fucked up!

Stephanie: Same! Wanna have sex?

Tim: Sure!

Duke, Cassandra, and Harper

Duke: Hey, Harper! Do you remember that time you were totally surrounded by the Riddler’s henchmen and I swooped in and saved you, and you were like “Thanks dude! You’re the best! I totally owe you one!”

Harper: Yes, I remember part of that being true!

Duke: Well, I need you to return that favor and you can not tell any of the others. I lost Tim and Stephanie and need help finding them.

Harper: What the hell Duke! How did this happen?

Duke: Well, Luke broke Tim and Steph, causing them to decide to retire, then they disappeared.

Harper: Okay, Orphan and I will be right there after we take down these two drug dealing pimps!

Duke: Thank you!

Harper: *hangs up the phone* Okay, let’s take care of this Orphan!

They both jump down landing a kick to their chest. Harper then grabbed her dudes arm and broke his wrist, finally stomping on his face, knocking the dude out. Cass walked towards her guy reaching down and throwing him against a wall, then kicking his back.

Nightwing

Nightwing: *arrives at the apartment door*

Boyfriend: YOU STUPID BITCH! WHY CAN’T YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT! 

Girlfriend: *through tears* I’m sorry!

Boyfriend: *slaps the girlfriend* SHUT UP BITCH!

Nightwing: *knocks on the door*

Boyfriend: *opens door* Can I help you?

Nightwing: Yes hi. I was walking around the neighborhood and wanted to know if you wanted to donate to the charity of whoop-ass?

Boyfriend: Not interested. *tries to close the door*

Nightwing: *pushes the door open* Hold on, you need to hear the rest of my pitch! *kicks the boyfriend in the chest* 

Girlfriend: *still crying* NO! PLEASE STOP!

Nightwing: Wha-

Boyfriend: *tries to throws a few punch at Nightwing’s face*

Nightwing: *drops to the floor and goes for a flare, sweeping the boyfriend off his feet*

The sound of sirens is heard out side.

Nightwing: *temporarily distracted by the sirens*

Boyfriend: *gets up* YOU CALLED THE COPS! YOU UNGRATEFUL GOOD FOR NOTHING BITCH! *tries to punch his girlfriend*

Nightwing: *catches his fist* Not gunna happen. *tosses the boyfriend against the wall and has him put his hands over his head*

Police Officer: G-C-P-D! GET YOUR..... Oh, Nightwing? How random seeing one of you guys here. Like always. *goes in to arrest the boyfriend*

Nightwing: *kneels down to where the girlfriend is sitting and takes note of the cuts and marks on her arms* Are you okay?

Girlfriend: I-*sob* I don’t *sob* know what *sob* I did *sob* wrong?

Nightwing: You did nothing wrong. Everything will be okay. Did he hit you?

Girlfriend: *nods her head yes*

Nightwing: Where did he hit you?

Girlfriend: *looks up to reveal a black eye and cuts on her face* My *sob* face, arms *sob*, stomach. *buries her head in her arms and starts to cry even harder*

Nightwing: Hey, it’s going to be okay. It’s all going to be okay. 

Nightwing tries the best he can to comfort the girl before the EMT arrived. After that he stuck around for a bit to give a statement of what happened when he arrived and to make sure everything was fine before he left.

Duke, Stephanie, Tim, Harper, and Cassandra

Stephanie: *wakes up* Ugh. My head! *she looks over at Tim and smiles as she gets out of the bed*

Tim: *starts to wake* Ow! *sees Stephanie* Hey!

Stephanie: Hey! 

Tim: *sits up on the bed*

Stephanie: Look about what happened, can we agree it was a drunk mistake.

Tim: Yeah! *rubs the back of his head and stands up close to Stephanie* I’m sorry, I can’t pretend! *he pulls her in and kisses her* I really like you!

Stephanie: I like you, too.

Tim: Wanna crawl back under the covers again for a bit?

Stephanie: Absolutely!

____

Desk Clerk: Thank you, hope you enjoyed your stay!

Tim: We certainly did, thank you! *both Stephanie and Tim walk out the door and see Duke, Cassandra, and Harper* 

Stephanie: Hey, you found us!

Duke: Get in the car!

Harper: Spent most of the night looking for you suckers until we saw that Tim used his credit card to purchase a hotel room there! 

Tim: We’re sorry you had to go searching for us!

Duke: Also, if you are even still thinking about retiring, you’re going to have to tell Bruce yourself.

Stephanie: We’re not retiring. We probably just thought it was a good idea because we were both sleep deprived.

Duke: Good, because I didn’t want to see Bruce lose his shit!

Dick and Julia/Dick and Jason

Back at the Batcave

Julia: How did it go?

Dick: Rough. That building was well into Harper’s sector though, why did you have me take care of it?

Julia: I think you know why.

Dick: *thinks for a moment* Because of the way I’ve been reacting to my breakup with Bab’s.

Julia: If you stopped thinking of how to win her back for one second, you would see that she is most likely suffering as much as you are. 

Dick: I understand. I’m going to head upstairs. Don’t stay down here much longer, that’s an order.

Julia: Are you still entitled to give orders?

Dick: I still get to wear the cowl, don’t I?

Julia: Fair enough.

Dick quickly showers and heads upstairs.

Jason: Hey, Dickwad. Over here.

Dick: Sup, Jay?

Jason: Follow me.

Jason leads Dick to the parking garage and into one of Bruce’s cars and drives to the safe house.

Jason: Welcome, to the safe house. I heard you had a rough day so I thought it would be worth it to take you here. Wayne house free zone so feel free to cry, let out your feeling, whatever you need to do to process this. I’ll wait in the car.

Dick: *crying* Jay.

Jason: Yeah.

Dick: *hugs Jason* Thank you!

Jason: No problem. If you tell Bruce, I will end you though.

Dick: Got it!

While I try to make these stories for the most part humorous and entertaining, domestic violence is a very serious topic. Since quarantine, domestic violence rates have gone up. If you or some one you know is in an abusive relationship or has found themselves in one since quarantine began, don’t hesitate to call the Domestic Violence Support hotline at 1 (800) 799 7233. You can also go to thehotline.org to contact them.

If someone you know has just left an abusive relationship (boyfriend/girlfriend, husband/wife, parent/child) remember to be there for them. Allow them to talk but don’t force them too if they don’t want to. Make sure not to bash the guilty party and respond about them neutrally. Most of all, make sure to let them know that they are still loved, and that they are still the same person, even if they feel that they are not.

I will be reblogging this message on my blog. I ask you to please share and reblog as much as you can.

[ramp-it-up]

Fresh Squeeze, Pt. 6

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x OFC Linden Marshall

Set in 2023, post-pandemic

Warnings: Cursing, Wild Thoughts™️, Angst, Yearning, 18+, Walmart shopping, Anime discussion, Anthony Ramos. Lots of Plot

Word Count: 2.8 K

Plot: Linden Marshall just finished law school at Columbia University in NYC. Daveed Diggs is still creating magic with his platonic life partner Rafael Casal in the form of their Blindspotting musical, Bay Boys. Linden’s boyfriend WAS Mark Monaco, star of the superhero movie series Invincible.  They were together for years, and her trauma and his addictions were toxic. She knows now that wasn’t love. 

A/N: Keep in mind that this the same AU as Arrivals, with Holly Woods, but is BEFORE Rafa and Holly get together. 

Read the previous chapter.

==================

Isabela, Puerto Rico, May 2023

“We are about 30 minutes from our destination. Please stay seated with your seatbelts fastened. The pilot will let you know when it is safe to do otherwise. Enjoy the rest of the flight.”

The flight attendant’s announcement woke up Daveed. He felt warm and happy. And he had you in his arms.

Daveed moved his head down into your curls, and kissed the top of your head., checking to see if anyone was watching. Everyone was knocked the fuck out. 

You had fallen asleep on his shoulder about 45 minutes into the flight after passing around champagne bottles. You were so cute, but he could tell that your neck was gonna be wrecked when you awoke.

Daveed had carefully maneuvered you so that he could pull up the armrest without waking you. You were dead to the world, so you waking up wasn’t a problem. 

Then, he pulled you to his chest, situating the blanket around you two and leaning back.  If he wanted anything from you right now, at the top of the list would be to be able to hold you like this and to show love.

He questioned that word in his mind. Love, really? He did love you, even if it was only as a good friend. But could it be more? Were you ready for that? Was he?

Daveed looked around to see Craig watching him and giving a thumbs up.  No one else noticed, Rafa was on his laptop and he could have sworn that Anthony and Jasmine were doing something nasty under their blanket behind you.  

He settled back into this feeling of being with you and fell asleep too, happy and content.

You woke up to a strange rhythm under your ear. It was a blue covered heartbeat, you recognized as you opened one eye, and it was insistent and hard, yet warm and safe. You shifted, held Daveed’s torso tighter and tried to drift back off. His arms tightened around you in response.

 Then your eyes popped open.

“Oh shit!”  You realized what was going on. You sat up slowly and squinted at Daveed’s smile and his damn low sexy voice. 

“Hey sleepyhead.”

“Hey.”  

You blushed and wiped your mouth. 

“Shit, I’m sorry…” you wiped at his onesie. “I think I drooled all over  your…” 

You didn’t finish the sentence when you glanced at Daveed and caught his eye. 

What you said that night came back to both of you. D’s eyes darkened and he licked his lips. For a minute, you were trapped by the static energy of your attraction. Daveed could do a lot with those lips right now if you’d let him. 

But of course you fought it.

You took a deep breath and sat up, separating from Daveed more fully. You had to get it together. You reached for your phone and checked your face, making sure you weren’t too crusty.

“Practically perfect in every way.” Daveed was watching you.

“That’s your first mistake.” You clicked your camera off. “ Anything that’s perfect isn’t real. Or alive.”  You had learned a lot in therapy.

“Truth.” Daveed looked at you appraisingly. “Such wisdom from a young one.” He leaned close to you.  “That’s why I said, ‘practically.’”  He was staring at your lips, not wanting to give up on meeting them again.

“I’m not a ‘young one.’ I’m thirty in two days.” 

You lifted your chin as a child would do, Daveed noted.  It was appropriate, because you were being stubborn as fuck right now.

He chuckled and stayed close, not letting you off the hook.  

“And I’m 40. I could be your…”  

The timbre of his voice was causing your pussy to vibrate. Holy fuck.

“...Daddy,” you said, huskily.  

You opened your mouth to breathe, as Daveed grunted quietly in his throat. God, you wanted to fuck him. You remembered that you knew how big he was. Your eyes widened and you watched his mouth.

Daveed would teach you about Daddy. He wanted to rail you until your pussy curved to his dick.  Got damn.

Daveed wanted you and you wanted him. It was crystal clear. He began to reach for you under the blanket when the flight attendant’s voice intruded on your vibe.

“We are beginning our descent into Rafael Hernández Airport, please stay seated with your seatbelts fastened and bring your tray tables and seats to an upright and locked position. The temperature is 75 degrees and the current time is 12:47 am.  We should be at our gate shortly. Thank you.”

That’s it. The moment was gone. You reached for your water bottle and took a drink to cool down. You were grateful.

Daveed was frustrated, as he sat back, brought his seat up, but held the blanket on his lap for a little while longer. It wasn’t fair, he almost had you. He closed his eyes. Now he felt like a child.

---------

The crew finally arrived in town around 2 am, after the two hour flight and renting a couple of cars to get to Isabela, a village on the seaside.

Loud music was playing to avoid falling asleep, Rafael driving one car and Ant the other.

Arriving in town, the two cars headed straight to the Walmart to get some food and things. It was almost 2 am, but everyone was re-energized and playing around, glad to be free for the time being on the island.

Daveed had to concentrate to read the titles in the video section.  His mind kept going back to the moment on the airplane.  But he vowed not to chase you up and down this island. He didn’t want to crowd you.  It had to be your decision.

You had to come to him. And  the thought of you made him want to cum. He’d have you to think about in the shower tonight, or today, whatever.

He needed to stop thinking about it.

Daveed was looking for Black Dynamite to watch in the condo in case it rained. He knew better than to think that Walmart had it, but he tried anyway.

He did see Afro Samurai tho… He picked it up as Rafa approached him with a toy xylophone and a big grin.

==================

Puerto Rico did something to all of you. It was like some weird no inhibitions pollen or something. When you stepped off the plane you decided to not overthink shit. You were just going to respond naturally, fuck the consequences.

This was your weekend, after all.

You walked into the entertainment section and heard some vaguely familiar music. As you got closer, you realized what it was.

Daveed was in the book section rapping “Rubber Duckie” as Rafa played a toy xylophone.

I got my rubber duckie

I'm in the tub with bubblies

He isn't very fuzzy

I know my duckie loves me

Call up my homie Ernie,

You know the orange one, ya heard me

D was going in, being silly and laughing with his bestie. He was fucking adorable.  You grinned at them and turned down the dvd aisle.

“I can’t believe they don’t have Cowboy Bebop.”  

You shook your head as Daveed and Rafa walked up and flanked you at the display, a shopping cart by Daveed’s side.

“It’s a classic.  Children will be referencing the War on Titan and it's after effects a hundred years from now."

Rafa just nodded and stroked his chin, having enough sense to be quiet.

“Wait, Attack on Titan is right here Lindy…” Daveed reached for a dvd and held it up in front of you.

Rafa shook his head and covered it with his hand.

"Spike Spiegel wasn't in Attack on Titan.  That's an entirely different anime series, my dude." 

The sardonic wit in your voice. Daveed just nodded, face on the floor, and put the blu ray down.

You squinted at what D had in his hand. 

"Afro Samurai is 20 years old as well.  You know that and not Cowboy Bebop? You put shame on your house. Old Man.”

You gave him a sexy grin and sauntered away shaking your head.

Rafa had been watching the scene, head on a swivel. All he had to say after you left was, “Boom. Roasted.” 

Daveed just chuckled, surprised and exhilarated at the same time. It seemed that you were up to letting loose a little bit.

He looked at Rafa who just watched Daveed falling. He couldn’t catch him this time.

"Man. Tonight looks like the beginning of an EPIC weekend,” Rafa said as he pushed some more dvds into Daveed’s cart.

Then he pulled a pack of Magnum XLs off the shelf that he had been hiding under his arm from you.

Daveed looked at him. Rafa stared back.

“What?  All these beautiful women on this island. I’m not gonna be unprepared or take any chances.”

Daveed shook his head, grimaced and looked around to see where you went, but you were nowhere to be found.

----

You were busy eating some Hot Cheetos that you’d grabbed on the chip aisle and were turning down the candy aisle when you saw Grumpy Care Bear standing there with a basket full of food, dvds and shit, looking at some sour patch kids.

"Oh hell,"  you said as you turned right back around.

"Ay, yo.  Lindy. You can get your candy. I'm not going to assault you with my inferior anime knowledge."

He laughed that sexy laugh and held up his hands. He sort of regretted calling you back because you walking away...Damn. Even in the Pikachu onesie.

Daveed continued to hold up his hands to show he didn't intend any harm, a smile on the lips that were your weakness earlier.  Fuck me, you thought.

You smiled back at him and went for the Jelly Bellys. You crunched loudly on your Cheetos as you clocked him out on the low. You felt bad. A little. 

"Look, I'm sorry about that in the dvds.  I'm just passionate about what I like."

Daveed wondered if you liked him. Like liked him liked him. He allowed himself to go there. 

You sucked the Cheeto dust off your fingers and it was making D feel some kinda way as he watched your fingers go in and out of your mouth. His eyes began to slide down your body.

He needed to stop. Daveed cleared his throat and looked at your face.

"No problem. I get it. It's all good." 

Diggs unconsciously licked his lips and grinned, causing you to stare for a second at his casual hotness. This couldn't continue. You frowned.

Daveed sensed the change in mood, grabbed his Sour Patch kids and backed away.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

That was a close call you thought as you felt some weird pang of disappointment at him leaving. But it was what it was.

Soon enough, you all left the store.  Rafa stole some of your Jelly Belly’s. You just handed over the pack to him and pulled out some more. You were prepared.

==================

When the crew finally got to the house, you dropped your bags and ran to the beach, celebrating four days of freedom from work, acting, fame, fortune, and expectations.

After a few minutes of staring at the waves, y’all made your way back up to the house.

When you walked in before Jazzy turned the lights on, you recognized a large dark expanse which seemed to be the back wall. As your eyes got adjusted, you noticed the white rolls of the waves on the shore. 

The back wall was floor to ceiling glass.  When the lights came up, it turned into a mirror and 6 characters in onesies stared back at you.

You were at the back of an open concept space with a huge u-shaped sectional sofa and a beautiful, big kitchen with a bar.

Daaaammmmmmnnn! This place is gorgeous!  Craig’s mouth was hanging open. You reached over and closed it.

“Welcome to our home away from home!” Anthony was bleary eyed and smiling wide. 

He pointed to the right of the house.

“Me and Jazzy’s room is over there,” he then pointed to the right of the house. 

“The birthday girl’s room is opposite over there, a mirror of the master,” then he pointed to the back of the house behind you and to the right,  “and the other four bedrooms are here.” 

Ant started pulling their luggage toward their room, talking over his shoulder. 

“Everybody gets their own room, even me, when I fuck up.” 

All of you cracked up laughing whole Jasmine nodded her head.

It was almost 4 am, so you all were tired.  You gladly pulled your suitcase to your room, feeling grateful and warm for being the guest of honor of your friends.  Your room was the bomb.

You walked into a spacious room with bamboo wood floors,and exposed wooden beam ceilings and several floor to ceiling windows.  There was a huge fluffy white rug under a comfortable king sized bed in the middle of the room. 

Two uniquely designed bamboo lounge chairs and white pillow ottomans faced a window where you could look through and see the pool and beach.

It was a luxury get away and right now, all you wanted was a shower and the bed.

You put your suitcase on the floor and got down and opened it.  You shook your head at what you saw.

“HOLY FUCK GOT DAMN SHIT!!!!”

Daveed, Craig and Jasmine came running at your screams.  Rafa and Ant were behind.

“What happened.”

You were embarrassed. But so irritated.

“Craig. You got the wrong suitcase.  This is Mark’s shit that he never came to get.  None of my clothes are here.  I have nothing to wear.”  You felt like crying.

“I’m sorry Lindy, you said that your summer clothes and bathing suits were in the rolling soft Louis bag…”

I mean the large one. This is the medium one. It’s okay, Craig.

“You have nothing to wear hunh?”

Daveed was smirking at you and you ignored it, crossing your arms and tapping your foot.

“But it’s perfect!”  You looked at Jasmine and her chipper British accent.

“We can go shopping for your birthday tomorrow. Treat yourself!”

You couldn’t help but smile at Jazzy’s happiness. She was right. Rafa and Ant went away and left y’all to that talk. Daveed was glued to his spot.

“OOooooh. Good Idea.” Craig was in. 

“Ok.I’m tired as fuck. I just wanna shower and sleep now. I’ll not need anything tonight.

Daveed couldn’t get the image of you in the shower and naked in bed out of his head now. He cleared his throat.

“I can give you something to wear shopping tomorrow, Lindy.”

His voice was soft.  You smiled at him and he was a goner.

“Man, you are like three times bigger than she is?”  Jasmine didn’t understand.

“Hold up. Are you willing to sacrifice, D?  Can we cut up one of your t-shirts and jeans?”

Daveed felt pain. The only t-shirts he had were Oaklandish.  

“Let’s compromise. You can cut my jeans all you want, but not the shirt.”

Craig smiled wide.  “Deal, if you throw in a belt.”

“Damn, Diggs…” was all that Jasmine said, smiling and shaking her head.

“Thank you Daveed. I appreciate it.” You were blown away.

Daveed played it off. “No problem…” And then he just turned around and walked out of your room.

“Girlllllllll!!!!”  Craig and Jasmine squealed at you and it took you a minute to get them out of your room.

You walked into the en suite bathroom and marveled at its beauty. It was large, with a huge tub and a walk in glass encased shower with an overhead waterfall  shower head. 

You turned on the shower to get it hot, stripped off your onesie and your underwear, wrapped yourself in a towel and went back into the bedroom.

You stopped short, because there was Daveed standing in your room, clothes in hand.

He had immediately gone to find his least favorite jeans and the Oakland shirt that would suit you the best.  He decided that you would look beautiful in blue.

You just in a towel was a sight to behold. He was sure that underneath that towel was paradise.

You stared at each other for a minute, Your eyes were glued to his.  

“Th-thank you again Daveed.”  He couldn’t discern if your hesitant, sexy voice was for him or from embarrassment.

“Sorry, I…. didn’t think you’d be… sorry.” He put his hands up and backed out of the room.

“Daveed.” You called, softly. “Stop.”

You approached him with a smile on your face. Daveed’s eyes were wide, not knowing what was going to happen.

“Thank you. I mean it.”

You stood on your tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, your lips lingering. Daveed closed his eyes and fought the urge to grab you and hold you close to him.

“You’re welcome.” His smile wrinkled his eyes as he smiled down at you. 

“Goodnight, Linden. Have sweet dreams for me.”

You just stared at him as he turned and left the room.

Daveed was just outside your door when he heard your reply.

“Yes, Sir.”

==================

Read the Next Chapter.

Thank you for liking, replying, and reblogging! 

Tagging: @einfachniemand @sillyteecup @commandersmiley @ohsoverykeri @theselilwonders @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @ivycomet @lonelydance @curtainremote @biafbunny @id-do-it-for-free-babe

[peachcitt]

okay, so style reference you say? I'm 👀

YES STYLE REFERENCE I SAY

this is going to be. a very long post i think with probably a lot of tangents and probably with a lot more thorough explanation than you could ever want but. here we go

because all of my theory/explanation posts end up So Long, i like to organize myself by keeping myself to a structure, and i also like to think if i put stuff in sub categories with bolded titles, people reading can skip ahead to the stuff they want if they're low on time or don't feel like slogging through everything. so here's the structure of the official Peach Style Reference Narrative

1. Early Days - how i started writing, my early inspirations, origins

2. Current Days - discussions of current style references plus examples and comparisons, discussions of original content versus fan content

3. Future Days - where i expect my writing to grow, trajectories i want, conclusory thoughts

without further ado, let's get into it!

1. Early Days

like i mentioned on the discord server, ive been writing creatively for. a very long time. i just turned 20 (like. literally today. we love to see it) and that seems very young, but i remember writing creatively when i was maybe six or seven, and before that i played with dolls a lot, which meant every day i was creating little narratives for myself. in addition to this - and this is probably why i started writing so young - i was (and am!) a very avid reader. i was that little jerk in elementary school reading chapter books and going into the older kids' section in the school library because i'd already mentally surpassed the books in the section meant for kids my age. so, basically, ive been writing for maybe 13 or 14 years at the least.

when i was young, my favorite books that i remember trying to copy in my own stories were: the magic treehouse books, harry potter, and percy jackson.

the magic treehouse

i honestly could not tell you which magic treehouse book it was, but i remember reading a specific magic treehouse book where the magic lady that left the treehouse for the kids sends the kids (jack and annie??) a note in distress, and she didn't get to finish signing her name because whoever had gotten her had interrupted her. it had been printed in the book with the ink on her name running.

i could not tell you anything else that happened in that book, but i can tell you that at some point in time soon after i read that book i started writing a story with an interrupted letter just like that. i loved the drama, the mystery of it all. i wanted to do something that was a little scary like that, a little exciting.

harry potter

harry potter isn't much of a style reference, but it was a huge impact of my childhood. truth be told i kind of hated the books when i was really young because i grew up watching the movies, and when i tried to read the books when i was in elementary school, the teenage angst that hits about book 5 simply Did Not make sense to me. i also find the language of harry potter to be super cumbersome, and sometimes it feels to me like the books are long just for the sake of being long. they have a huge cultural impact, but i feel the same way about harry potter's style as i do about dickens. cool and interesting, but, like, could you get to the point already? (and also my opinion of j.k. rowling has steadily been growing worse and worse over the years, for obvious reasons. harry potter is nostalgic for me, but i can't look at it now without thinking about it critically, which really lowers my opinion of it)

however, you could probably call my first fanfiction a harry potter fanfiction. i started it when i was maybe six or seven, and it was a rewrite of the chamber of secrets with my childhood best friend as the main character (she didn't know about it, i just had her as the main character because i thought she was cool). i of course never finished it, but harry potter probably did a huge part of planting that seed of magic in me. everything i want to write included some form of magic - although my perspective on what can be considered magic has steadily expanded over the years.

percy jackson

of all my childhood "style references" that still influence me to this day, percy jackson has got to be the biggest. for starters, it's magic. second, it's main themes are about friendship and family - things that i like all my stories now to always include. third - and most important - is the narrative voice.

in terms of narrative voice, percy has a huge personality. he's witty and snarky, but also very thoughtful and poignant. a lot of my early writing was in first person, and it's probably because of percy. also, percy jackson was the first fandom i really got into, and it was the first media that i started officially writing and posting fanfiction for. percy's voice is so clear and hooking, and i wanted to be able to write something funny and real like that.

also - chapter titles. the original pjo series is famous for its weird and hilarious chapter titles, and even though i didn't really start writing fics or stories that were long enough to need chapter titles until a while later, i loved the idea of putting in a chapter title that would make a reader laugh, or maybe even make a reader feel a little apprehensive about the events to come.

but back to percy's narrative voice. i loved that style, almost conversational, so much that i started thinking like it. when i wasn't doing anything, like walking home in middle school, i often found myself narrating my life in my head like percy would, trying to find that humor and spark in my every day surroundings. i still find myself doing that very often, but not necessarily in the classic pjo style. now i narrate everything in my head a little differently, but that practice narration in my early days really helped my shape my voice, i think.

other series i read when i was younger include: a a series of unfortunate events and the name of this book is secret. i don't remember seeing a lot of influence in my early writing from those books, but i definitely think the styles of those books hit me a little later, which i will talk about in the next section.

but, yeah. these were the big three of my childhood. i also read a lot of ya romance, children's mystery books, princess stories, and various types of fantasy, which i think you could probably tell from the genres i like to stick to now. except i don't write a ton of mystery because, as much as i admire the complicated plots, im not sure if i'd have the patience to plan all that out.

in terms of the rest of the genres, a ton of my earlier writing included classic ya romance and fantasy tropes - chosen girl, love triangles, angsty overpowered teens, etc etc. even though those kinds of stories are not necessarily the kinds of stories i want to write or read now, i think my early writing of those kinds of things was really valuable. it's kind of a dirty secret with finished or unfinished works generally considered 'cringe' - often that writer is a new writer, or they're trying something new, or they just haven't found their voice yet. all of those things are perfectly okay and normal, and a lot of people in the writing community preach that kind of thing, but i don't necessarily see people cutting new writers slack in actual practice. writing "overrused" tropes isn't cringe, it's normal, and, besides, what trope isn't overrused? people have been writing and telling stories for thousands of years - nothing is really new. what matter is that someone new is telling the story, and that's what makes it valuable.

so, yeah, a lot of my childhood writing is cringe to me now, but i wouldn't be where i am without it.

with that being said, let's actually look at where i am now

2. Current Days

im going to break this section down into two parts, sort of: original fiction and fanfiction. because i think both of these things have become really important to me, and i don't believe i personally could exist as a writer without one or the other. it's a symbiotic relationship.

we'll start with fanfiction.

my relationship with fanfiction is relatively positive in online spaces: i write what i want to see from media that i like, and i have fun doing it. i also get some comments on my fics by lovely people that detail exactly what they like - some even go so far to talk about narrative style, voice, or tone - and that's really helpful. generally, i see fanfiction not only as a fun hobby and vent space for my strong positive feelings about certain media, but also as a place for me to try new things, experiment, and earn positive feedback.

i don't often share my original fiction online (and if i do, never at the same scope as my fanfiction), so i don't get that same opportunity to see what "works" with readers. fanfiction gives me the space to see that, and i apply new knowledge ive learned to my original fiction. that's what i mean by a symbiotic relationship.

in terms of specific style references for specific fics (which is what i know you probably most want to see), i'll try my best to pick them all out and give specific examples.

those benevolent stars and i am the messenger by markus zusak

in my favorite book list, i saw you mention tbs, so i'll start there. to be honest, i had no idea what my style reference for tbs was when i first saw your tags, and i almost didn't think there was anything specific. style references are a bit sneaky like that - if you've been referencing for someone for a long time, it becomes less of an intentional reference and more of just a you think, so it gets harder to tell.

lucky for this post, i just finished doing my yearly reread of zusak's i am the messenger, and as i was reading, i noticed a few spots where i was like wait hey i remember doing that.

for starters, iatm has been my favorite book for about six or seven years now, so i would say that some aspects of my style certainly comes from zusak because of how much i love iatm but also his other books. zusak has this huge talent for writing short, punchy sentences that convey so much in just a few words, and i think i've ended up trying to do that in my own writing. often, in my writing you'll see fragmentary sentences such as "He stopped. Blinked. Looked at her." that's not from anything specific, but i know ive written something like that maybe a million times over. zusak doesn't do the same thing - often his fragments are jam-packed with imagery in a way that mine aren't - but there's a thoughtfulness in his fragments that are in mine, too. a sort of pause. a hint that there's thinking happening in the narrator or a certain character. for example, i did a quick flip through of my copy and we have:

"We stare across the table.

Just briefly.

At each other." (I am the Messenger, p.144)

so you see how my common sentence fragment of "he stopped / blinked / looked at her" tracks with a fragment like this? i like the way zusak broke up sentences to make you dwell on them a little longer, consider the importance of each section, so i started doing that wayy before i wrote tbs i think.

also, at the time i wrote tbs, i think i was in the process of, or had just finished doing my reread of iatm, and, like i said, zusak loves imagery. tbs is a very imagery-heavy fic. tbs was influenced by a lot of music - a lot of the scenes have very specific pieces of music that i wrote imagining the tone and vibe of. iatm also references a lot of outside media sources, mostly music and films.

there are a couple of scenes in tbs that i think i wrote specifically mimicking or accidentally referencing from iatm. for example, we have this scene in tbs:

"It was almost like he could feel Marinette’s eyes on his back, steady and gentle. 'But you still love her.”

'Yeah,' Adrien said quietly, 'I still love her.' His eyes moved along a streak of purple that bled into a dark blue. 'I hate her a little bit, too.'

Marinette was silent.

He turned around, giving her a smile." (Those Benevolent Stars, chapter 3)

and this scene from iatm:

"'Do you hate me, Ed?'

Still stupid with bubbles and vodka in my stomach, I answer. Very seriously.

'Yes,' I whisper. 'I do.'

We both smack the sudden silence with laughter." (I am the Messenger, p. 233)

obviously there are differences, and i don't think i did it on purpose, but the interaction is very similar. i love the gentle intimacy of that scene in iatm, that weird complication relationship between the main character and the person he loves, the hurt, the brushing it off with laughter. so i wrote a scene that incorporated those things

zusak is also really good at writing moments of quiet into his books that aren't necessarily important to the plot, but are still important. if you've ever read that ghibli meta post talking about the 'quiet' between scenes in studio ghibli scenes, meant to give both the audience and the characters space to breath, it's like that. nothing in iatm is not imporant - it all serves a purpose, even the quiet moments, and i try to do the same thing. there's moments like that in tbs i think, like:

"Marinette gave him a small smile before turning back to her ice cream. Adrien tried to eat his ice cream a little faster, licking up where it had dripped onto his hand.

They were quiet for a while longer, and Marinette finished her ice cream. She leaned back on her hands and looked up at the dark sky, littered with stars.

He could see them all in her eyes, too." (Those Benevolent Stars, chapter 3)

and in iatm, you get scenes like:

"Our feet dangle.

I watch them, and I watch the jeans on Audrey's legs.

We only sit there now.

Audrey and me." (I am the Messenger, p.120)

so i definitely think tbs is a very i-am-the-messenger/markuz zusak-inspired fic. there's a lot of zusak's quiet, and there's the pieces of zusak's style that i've picked up along the way that really shine in tbs

tomorrow and this body's not big enough for the both of us by edgar cantero

ive talked about cantero a few times recently, but, as you've probably noticed, in relation to my fic called 'tomorrow.' i wrote tomorrow pretty soon after reading this body's not big enough for the both of us, and i used tomorrow specifically to experiment with cantero's visual writing style. in all the books by cantero ive read, there's this kind of hyper-awareness of a film gaze - how a certain scene would be shot on a camera, dialogue as script writing, and other things like that mixed with prose. i thought it was fascinating, and after finishing this body, i really wanted to play around with that idea. so i wrote tomorrow keeping in mind a "film gaze." for example:

"Two figures sitting on a rooftop, silhouettes. The moon hovers over them carefully, a crescent afraid to break the silence. One of the figures takes a breath, looks up into the sky at the hesitant moon, and he sighs. He closes his mouth again." (tomorrow)

versus in cantero's work, where we get descriptions like:

"And then, like a high-heeled coup de grace, she arrived.

She paused briefly outside the door, her hourglass silhouette cast upon the glass panel with the fresh shiny vinyl letters" (This Body's Not Big Enough for the Both of Us, prologue)

the tone of the two excerpts are very different, but there's a very visual sense to both of them, like they are being described from a shot in a movie rather than a regular work in prose. in tomorrow i also work a lot with specific camera imagery - saying where the camera goes in the scene, what it focuses on - and this body doesn't do this too much, but cantero's meddling kids does at least once that i remember.

regardless, after finishing this body, i wanted to try my hand at the visual structure that cantero uses in his works, so i really leaned in to the idea.

chat noir's white french man hit list for feminist purposes and grasshopper jungle by andrew smith

this is, as of right now, the most recent fic on my ao3, and i started it the literal day i finished grasshopper jungle. i think you might be getting a theme here - i read a really good book, and then immediately after i start writing something. the easiest way to get inspired as a writer is to read.

chat noir's hit list is a fic that is very much aware of the fact that it is a story being told - you don't know by who or for what real reason until the end, but it's a self aware sort of story. it's also very snarky and sarcastic, and it expands past just the confines of its own story; it's about chat noir and his hit list, but it also talks in depth about emilie agreste, chat noir's relationship with ladybug, and his relationship with himself. this is very much the kind of thing that you would find in an andrew smith book - grasshopper jungle is a story being told to you, and it's also about more than just the original pieces of the plot. the narrator tells the story that expands past regular confines of the story he means to tell - he's telling the 'history' of his life and his town, but he also talks about his great-great grandfather, the origins of the ketchup his girlfriend's dad eats, and what's happening in other parts of the country as he and his best friend are hanging out. the line in chat's hit list of "stars exploded, the sun did not, life continued on" was very much a grasshopper jungle and andrew smith-inspired line.

at the end of adrien's narration in chat's hit list, he says:

"It should be mentioned at this point in time that this story is not over, although I’ll stop telling it here.

So that’s the story of Chat Noir, who is also Adrien Agreste, who was very much a normal boy, except for the fact that he wasn’t. It’s a sad story, but it is also a happy story, and it is highly confidential. I’m sure you understand." (Chat Noir's White French Man Hit List for Feminist Purposes)

and at the end of grasshopper jungle, as the main character is closing out his narration, we get:

What I have written here is not the history of Eden. It is the history of the end of the world. All real histories will be about everything, and they will stretch to the end of the world.

The end of the world started when Andrej Szczerba slid into the cold sea as his boy, Krys, watched and wept and drifted closer and closer to the United States of America.

Nobody knew anything about it." (Grasshopper Jungle, p.382-3)

It's not overtly similar, but the structure is the same: recognition of the end, short summary of where we started and left the story, tag phrase that was used prior in the work. when i was writing the end of adrien's narration, i didn't mean to mirror grasshopper jungle so closely, but sometimes things just happen that way - honestly, so many of the things i do in my writing aren't intentional, they're subconscious. when i make a conscious choice, it's related to plot or to a new strategy im applying to style or voice that i'm not used to, but a lot of the things i do fly under the radar in my brain unless im purposefully trying to piece them apart like i am here.

i will say the meta-story of chat's hit list was pretty directly inspired by grasshopper jungle because i love meta stories, and i like using opportunities to put them in. i just love the idea of reading a story of someone telling someone else a story, which is what the two books by andrew smith i've read have been, and i think that's just fascinating, which is why i used it here.

ive gotten a couple of comments on chat's hit list that liken the narrative style to pseudonymous bosch's the name of this book is secret and lemony snicket's a series of unfortunate events, which i thought was really interesting, because i was purposefully trying to make the voice an impression of andrew smith's voice adapted to the tone of ml, but i could definitely see their reasoning.

andrew smith, like i mentioned before, likes specifics - what exactly people were doing at certain times, where a specific bottle of ketchup came from, etc. from what i remember of the name of this book is secret and a series of unfortunate events, i remember the descriptions included in those books chock full of highly specific, snarky details that aren't truly necessary, but do a whole lot in terms of adding a certain flavor to the narration. i won't try and look up examples from unfortunate events and the name of this book, but here are a couple examples:

"See, the thing about Emilie Agreste, formerly Emilie Graham De Vanily, is that she was what could be generously called a ‘radical.’ Born in 1969, like most amazing and world-altering things, Emilie Graham De Vanily grew up in London alongside her twin sister, who is a nice enough woman and who is not really that important to this story, and she was raised with the firm and gentle hands of people who had witnessed war and cruelty and had found that they did not like at all. Emilie Graham De Vanily grew up learning about the true history of England, which is not a very nice history, truly, and she grew up knowing that people with white skin like her were historically not all that great. That, historically, was a very radical thought." (Chat Noir's White French Man Hit List for Feminist Purposes)

from chat's hit list, and this:

"In 1905, being seventeen years old made you a man. In 1969 when hungry Jack fought in Vietnam, seventeen years old was a man. My brother, Eric, who was somewhere in Afghanistan, was twenty-two.

Krzys Szczerba came across the Atlantic with his father. They planned on working and earning enough money so Krzys's mother, brother, and two sisters could come to the United States, too. People who did that were called Bread Polacks. They came here to make money." (Grasshopper Jungle, p. 68)

from grasshopper jungle. once again, obviously very different, but you can tell im playing around with that same feeling of giving a surplus of facts in my narration in the same way that andrew smith does. you can't really tell in the grasshopper jungle excerpt, but oftentimes the surplus of 'facts' serves almost a comedic effect, which is definitely something that you can feel in chat noir's hit list.

[REDACTED] and six of crows by leigh bardugo

as a reward for sticking around through this, i'll give out something fun here. the current long fic that ive been working on recently has proved to be very bardugo-inspired, particularly six of crows-inspired.

in six of crows, bardugo gives us action right off the bat and then integrates flashbacks into lulls of action so that there's never truly a dull moment. i found [REDACTED] to be a fic where i wanted to use flashbacks in a similar way, so that i would get something like:

"She doesn’t stay for the whole parade, but she stays for enough of it. Nothing unusual happens, just like always, but she still makes cursory patrols around the city, ending up at the Eiffel Tower, just like always. She sits on the railing way up at the top, and she crosses her ankles, swinging her legs back and forth and humming softly to herself as she watches the sun set.

'Little kitty on the roof, all alone without his lady,' he used to sing when he’d gotten back to their meeting point from patrolling his half of the city before her. It was just a silly little song, one that he’d clearly made up for himself."

It didn’t hurt until he’d been akumatized, and she’d seen that one version of the future - the one where he’d destroyed the whole world because of Gabriel Agreste. She’d seen him then, a lonely figure in white, humming his little song to himself. Who knows how long he’d been like that before she’d been transported to him, how long he’d been really and truly alone. (REDACTED, chapter 1)

and in comparison, we get a lot of scenes in six of crows like:

"Kaz leaned against the ship's railing. He wished he hadn't said anything about his brother. Even those few words raised the memories, clamoring for attention. What had he said to Geels at the Exchange? I'm the kind of bastard they only manufacture in the Barrel. One more lie, one more piece of the myth he'd built for himself.

After their father died, crushed beneath a plow with his insides strewn across a field like a trail of damp red blossoms, Jordie had sold the farm. Not for much." (Six of Crows, p.205-6)

bardugo uses most of the flashbacks during a time in which the main characters are on a long sea voyage, which means they have a lot of time to reflect on their pasts and what brought them to these situations - it's a smart way to fill the empty space of the sea voyage and to really dwell on how important the voyage is. in a similar way, i chose to use the flashbacks in dull or lulling moments in the events of the story, ones in which marinette lets her mind wander or sees something that makes her remember something specific.

however, here's a situation where you can see me adapt the style into something that makes more sense for me, personally: in my excerpt, the tense changes between the current events and the flashback events, while in bardugo's excerpt, the tense stays the same at a comfortable past tense. when i was writing my fic with the flashbacks, i thought the constant, sometimes abrupt, switching would get confusing, so i made sure to always have a clear line using the past and present tense that readers could consciously or unconsciously take notice of.

so there are a couple of instances within some fairly recent fics i have that have specific callbacks to specific books. there are a whole bunch more, i think, but these are the ones that ive played around with intentionally the most recently or the most often.

3. Future Days

based on my recent rapid experimentation in fics (the most recent four fics on my ao3 have been very experimental in comparison to most of my works), i really anticipate a lot of growth in my overall style. ive been having a lot of fun experimenting and throwing in things that a few years ago i would've never even thought of, so im really excited to see where that might lead me, style wise.

i think as a writer there's always room for growth and learning, and that kind of growth and learning comes from not only practicing writing, but also reading. i cannot stress enough how valuable and impactful reading is on writing. considering ive been trying to read a lot more than i have been in recent years, it makes a lot of sense that ive been making a lot of weird decisions and learning more about what i want to see in my own writing.

honestly, if you ever want to know about any of my other fics, or you want to see how this kind of thing translates to my original works, just shoot me an ask! this post is already long enough, so i think i'll go ahead and end it here, but just know you can always ask questions<3

thank you so much for asking me this question and letting me indulge, and thank you for reading!!!<3<3<3<3

[aliwritesfic]

Our Black Hearts Part 2 (F!Reader x Jack "Whiskey" Daniels)

Summary: You decide it's time to come clean to Jack about the man he's after

W/C: 2k

Warnings: None for this chapter I think, but please tell me if I missed something

Spotify

Part 1

You loved working the towns garden. The feeling of warm dirt in your hands, the feeling of accomplishment watching something go from seedling to edible vegetable in the span of just a few weeks. Hell, sometimes you even relished in the ache in your back after a long day. It let you know you were alive.

It was while you planted a new crop of carrots that you rehearsed what you were going to say to Jack when you saw him next. Hello, I hope you don’t kill me for not telling you as soon as I was sure, but I know who killed your wife, and I think I know where to find him, or at least how to find people who know where he would be. We good?

You frowned as you dug into the earth, unable to escape the guilt gnawing at your insides like a parasite. You know you should’ve told him the first morning, when you woke up encased in his arms. But the way the pale pre-dawn light played on his skin distracted you. Then he woke up and he really distracted you. Then a week passed, and you still hadn’t summoned up the courage to tell him, despite several more rendezvous with him. You knew it would be worse the longer you waited, a somehow larger betrayal.

Of course, you could just lie, tell him you weren’t sure, but that wasn’t in your nature. You hated to lie, and you were fucking terrible at it. You had been since childhood, unable to hide your secrets from the scrutinizing gaze of your mother. Now, every time you tried to lie, you remembered the sharp blow to the back of your head you would receive, and instead you chose to just avoid the truth.

Straightening your back, you turned your gaze toward the cloudless blue sky. It was nearing midday, the hottest and most dangerous hours to be outside would soon be upon you. Already people had sequestered themselves inside, the only ones who couldn’t were those patrolling the perimeter of the town. Large sheets of rusted metal had been erected along the perimeter; the only protection afforded to those who protected the town. It had once struck you as deeply unfair, but now you knew it was necessary. Too many stories of towns being attacked at the suns highest point had reached your ears, chilled you to the bone.

“Chase,” the use of your nickname snapped you out of your thoughts. You glanced behind you and saw Sparkie, the middle-aged man who oversaw the gardens waving to you. “Come inside before you get crispy.”

You obliged, abandoning your shovel in the dusty earth. It was only a couple degrees cooler inside the garden house but being in the shade made all the difference. The garden house was arguably the dirtiest building in the whole town, boot prints and stray tools littered the cracked tile floor, the entire thing smelt of fertilizer and no number of open windows could get rid of the stench. You sat yourself down on a plastic crate and turned your attention to the window.

In the distance you could see the perimeter wall of Deepwell, a single speck of a figure under the small metal sheet. No stupid hat, so it couldn’t have been Jack. You had learnt that he was assigned as a guardsman for the town, replacing the guard who had been brutally gunned down in a raid a month before he had arrived. At the thought of that, the image of the dead guard flashed in your mind – shot so many times in the face no one could identify them until a headcount of surviving guards had been taken. Her name had been Lydia, you found out later, and you hadn’t said more than three words to her.

~

A shrill whistle sounded in the distance, signalling it was safe to be in direct sunlight again. Jack stepped out from the small perimeter shelter and adjusted the grip on his rifle. He had learnt protocols during his first day of what was done directly after Midday. First, he had to make sure no one was trying to breach his appointed section of wall. Most days there was nothing, occasionally a pack of wild dogs or boar would be gathered drawn by the smell of living creatures. Once he had found a Skulker, barely clinging to life, sent crazy by sun and hunger and dehydration. Parts of her skin had melted away from time spent in the Toxic Plains, leaving shiny white bone. That had been an easy kill – a single bullet between the eyes before she had even realised he was there.

There was nothing today, only the ever-present patches dead earth and haze of heat on the horizon. Jack adjusted his dark glasses, traded a year back for a half blunt knife. They had become one of his most prized possessions, a saviour for his eyesight.

The next hour passed quietly on the outside of the wall. A single mutt had appeared briefly in the distance, Jack kept his gun trained on the creature until it had slinked away, disappearing over the horizon. He could’ve shot it, sent word to the fetchers about fresh meat, but the dog wasn’t worth the bullet. Its ribs and pelvis had stuck out from its body, more skin and bones than anything edible.

Sweat was beading down the back of his neck and dampening his shirt when relief finally arrived. His replacement was a burly teenager, arms criss-crossed with scars from a childhood spent living in the lawless no-mans-lands. Jack tipped his hat and handed the shotgun to the kid.

“Happy watchin’,” he said with an easy grin. The kid grunted in response, turning to face the vast nothing in front of them.

It was mid-afternoon, early enough for the water troughs to be devoid of most people and late enough that the water wouldn’t be boiling hot anymore. The troughs were close to the well for which the town was named, though the well was just a hole in the ground fenced off by frayed rope. It was the towns only source of clean water, so deep underground it took almost five minutes for it to be pumped up.

The troughs were worked by just one woman, who Jack thought probably had the worst job in the whole town. Keeping the troughs filled and clean, making sure the stores were stocked with enough for the townspeople to clean themselves with. Not to mention having to wash the clothes of anyone who asked. Jack avoided asking for as long as he could, only going to her when the stench became too much for him to be able to deal with on his own.

Today, fortunately, his clothes weren’t an issue. He stripped down, folding his clothes neatly before easing himself into one of the troughs. He dunked his head under the warm water, scrubbing at his scalp with his fingers. He didn’t have the luxury of soap today, having worn through his last bar before he could find a suitable trade for a replacement. Jack didn’t mind though – sometimes the water itself was enough to feel clean.

“Jack,” Chase was standing at the foot of his trough, hands on her hips. Well this is a nice surprise Jack thought as he sat up, pushing his wet hair back. Her face was shiny with sweat and streaked with dirt that seemed to attach itself to any available bit of skin.

“Hello, Doll.” He had taken to calling her that, preferring it to Chase. At least, he preferred it when he was trying to seduce her.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, and Jack’s blood ran instantly cold.

“You’re not – you know?” He gestured to her stomach. Chase looked down, confused, before realization dawned on her face.

“It’s been a week, Jack, Maker help me! No. Didn’t you learn anything about how babies are actually made when you were married?” Chase raised an incredulous brow at him. Jack shrugged. “I have a book on that, you should give it a read.”

Jack rubbed at his legs with a scrap piece of cloth, knowing he was not going to read that book. “So, what’d ya need, doll? Come to take another ride?” Chase rolled her eyes.

“No. I need to talk to you-” Chase hesitated, looking conflicted. “Look, just don’t hate me, please.” Jack sat forward, suddenly intrigued.

“Well, don’t leave me hangin’ in suspense,” Jack said.

“I know who killed your wife. I can find him.”

Jack’s ears rang for a moment, he wasn’t sure he heard correctly. “You . . .”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Chase crouched down next to the trough as she spoke, her eyes imploring him to understand. “I wasn’t sure it was him; I thought he was dead! But – but it’s too much of a coincidence.”

“Who is he? How do you know?” Jack tried to keep the pain out of his voice. How long has she known, he wondered, and not told him?

Chase at least had the decency to look ashamed. “He’s – his name is Elijah. He’s missing an eye because ten years ago I stabbed him, thought I killed him too. I tried to kill him!”

“Chase, who is he to you? Are you sure you can find him?”

“I can find him. I still have connections with his old crowd, someone there will know where he is.” Chase rubbed her face, somehow smearing on even more dirt. “If I tell you who he is . . . just don’t hold it against me, okay?”

“No promises,” Jack said.

“He’s my brother. Womb brother, actually.”

“You tried to kill your brother?” Jack was too shocked to feel angry. He was an only child, but from what he knew, the bond between siblings was one of the strongest, especially those bonded in the womb.

“You’ve met him,” Chase shrugged helplessly, “he’s – look I’m not gonna pretend that I deserve understanding for keeping this from you. But now I know he’s alive . . .” she trailed off, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“Tell me where to find him.” Jack said.

“No, you need me.” Chase shook her head. “You won’t get far without me, I promise you that.”

Jack scoffed at her. “Don’t underestimate me.”

“I’m not, I’m being realistic. You don’t know Elijah like I do. He’s paranoid, delusional, he thinks he’s a fucking god. You won’t get within ten feet of him without someone blowing your brains out. If you’re serious about this revenge thing, you need me.”

Jack pushed himself out of the trough and began to dry off quickly in the sun. Still naked, he turned to face Chase, arms crossed over his chest. “And just why are you so damn insistent on comin’ with me? You could tell me what you know, I could hire any number of mercs who could get the job done better than you, and you wouldn’t have to get your hands dirty . . . well dirtier than they already are.”

Chase took a deep breath, evidently to calm herself down. “I need to make sure what I started is finished. Someone has to kill Elijah, and I won’t be able to sleep until I know he’s dead.”

The look on her face told Jack she was completely serious. He considered for a few moments, pulling his clothes back on. If everything she said was true, he would need her help, to find Elijah, to get close enough to kill him. But –

“If you tried to kill him, how can you get close without you getting your head blown off?” Jack combed his fingers through his hair and secured it with his hat.

“He doesn’t know it was me. It’s a long story but you just have to trust me.”

Jack considered the woman standing in front of him. Of course, he didn’t trust her – it was stupid to trust anybody. But it was his only chance, he was beginning to realise, and she’d have to come along whether he wanted it or not. Which given his current mood regarding her keeping this from him, he did not.

“Alright, get your shit ready. I’m leaving at dusk.”

Tagging: @sharkbait77 @quica-quica-quica <3 <3