#i would’ve cleared my entire ao3 page if i didn’t write the last few for my friends ngl

[tallytals]

damn this inferiority complex got hands

[ultimatebethylficlist]

Veteran Author of The Month: June 2021

The featured veteran author for June is also a co-admin right here at UBFL: SquishyCool (or @im-immortal )!

SquishyCool can be found on AO3 and FFN under the same penname.

When asked what got her into Bethyl and what the fandom means to her, she said:

I’ve been a hardcore TWD fan since the show began airing, but that’s because of my love for zombies. In all honesty, I didn’t really ship anyone for the first 3-4 seasons. I kind of shipped Daryl with Carol, but then it became clear that it was a platonic relationship and in all honesty, I just wanted to see them both get some action lmao. Then the prison fell... and in those first moments of “Still,” when we see Beth and Daryl running and running and finally collapsing on the ground, breathless and exhausted... the butterflies started. Something clicked and I immediately thought, “uh oh.” The rest is history, especially considering how “Still” and “Alone” played out. I can’t explain how or why I’m still so heavily invested, especially considering my last 2 fandoms only kept my attention for about 2-3 years each, but here I am. And I love it! I am so incredibly grateful for the Bethyl fandom because not only has it helped me improve my writing so much more than I ever could have imagined, but it has also introduced me to some of the most amazing people, including someone who I now consider one of my very best friends! It’s my happy place :)

For her personal fic rec list, she recommends:

In The Maw by ronsparkyspeirs

Way Down We Go by LeathernLaces

Surfacing by lindentree

Wild Things (The Moonshine Poet) by Abelina

The Gift by Feliz

The Man Who Can't Be Moved by burningupasun

New Experiences Series by wallflow3r

Whisper Softly to Me by taylorcatherine

Interstice by leftmywingshome

To Love Like a Man by Seraphique

Death, Death (i defy thee) by alamorn

In My Blood by Courtneyshortney82

Let the Good Times Roll by gutsforgarters

Resolved by Allatariel

the weight of these wings by peachthorns

all my spaces are filled with you by annabeth_writes

A Little Jailbreak with the Little Jailbait by wandering_gypsy_feet

between the beginning and the end by sheriffandsteel

SquishyCool’s Works & Personal Thoughts:

Dirty Fingernails and Dried Blood Summary: What happened during the months between "Still" and "Alone"? Beth uses the last pages of her diary to write down every detail of surviving with Daryl. Thoughts: My first Bethyl fanfic. It holds a special place in my heart for that reason, though it is pretty rough. If I could go back, I never would’ve done it entirely in first-person. But I do plan to finish it one day. There are some scenes I’m particularly proud of, and I still have a long note full of ideas and plot points.

Most Wanted Summary: After Beth’s mother and half-brother are murdered in a drug war, the godly veil on the Greene Family operation is lifted, and law enforcement comes down hard. In an effort to protect her family, Beth commits a heinous crime that could mean life in prison alongside them. Now everyone she’s ever trusted is in police custody and her only chance at freedom is to get as far away from Atlanta as she can... Thoughts: Well, this is a must-read if you like my writing. I hope to one day convert this into an original fiction and maybe get it published, but I need to finish it first LOL. I got the idea from ONE scene of “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt,” and from there, it exploded into a huge mystery thriller (with lots of romance and smut). I’m really really proud of it, and I’m scared I’ll fuck it up tbh, so I keep putting off continuing it. But I really need to get back to it because I really want people to see what I have planned! (Also, this fic is the reason @courtneyshortney82​ started talking to me, so that alone is pretty historic lmao)

The Crow’s Song Summary: Beth and Daryl spend a few more days together in the funeral home and come to terms with all they've lost along the way. But soon, they must decide what comes next. Thoughts: This fic... this fucking fic. It took me a full year to write. I made numerous edits. I even got a little depressed while I was writing the last two chapters, and my bf didn’t know why until he read what I’d been writing lol. It’s honestly the Bethyl fic I’ve always wanted to write but just didn’t know how. I’m still really really proud of how it turned out.

Carnival Games Summary: Daryl is a traveling carnival worker and Beth is a barely legal farmer's daughter looking for a night of fun when the carnival comes to town. Thoughts: Omg this fic is so fun!! One of my first Bethyl fics, and one of my first Bethyl smut fics. Short, sweet, a little funny, and a lot hot. I am still impressed with myself on this one, especially considering how much my writing has improved since lol

Breathe. Please. Summary: Beth shows up at the Hilltop. Alive. Daryl can hardly believe his eyes. Until she's lying in his bed, an arm's reach away. And he can hear her inhaling... exhaling... inhaling... Thoughts: Another “fix-it” that I’m proud of. Tbh I didn’t think it was anything all that special, but a lot of readers have said it’s one of their favorites, and some say they reread it regularly, and nothing makes me happier than hearing that, so I am extremely proud.

picking @ scabs Summary: Sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, being with them just isn't right. But what wouldn't you give for it to be right? Can someone like Daryl learn how to swallow his pride and stop repeating the same mistakes over and over? Can someone like Beth learn to fight off her demons and allow him to get close enough to hurt her again? How can they stay away from each other when it's all too easy to fall back into one another? Picking a scab will leave a scar, but they both have so many scars already... what's a few more? Thoughts: This fic is very, very personal for me. It’s like my “therapy” fic. I have poured some of my deepest feelings and struggles into its chapters, and the whole idea that got me to start it was that I wanted to find a way to navigate and cope with ending my 3-year long relationship with my emotionally/mentally/sometimes physically abusive ex. I still have a lot of fond memories from that relationship, but even more so, I have painful memories. Not to mention, going through your early 20s as a woman in the modern day is a fuckin’ trip, so this kind of explores that. It’s really self-indulgent, I think, but I’m really proud of the smut in it. And more than that, I’m proud of the response. I’ve had a few people message me or comment to say that they’ve felt all those things, or have experienced similar things, and it’s really just... relieving. I put my heart and soul out there, and what I got back was “you’re not alone.” So yeah, this fic is special. I wanna finish it soon, but I have to be in A Mood to do so. 

In Toto Corde Summary: Despite a million reasons not to, Beth and Daryl fell in love. Then he made the ultimate sacrifice in order to keep all of his promises. Now, facing unimaginable consequences at the hands of witch hunters, Beth has no choice but to use her powers to bring Daryl back from the dead. "He won't be the same..." Thoughts: I LOVE THIS FIC. I love it so much that I had to rewrite it after like 4 or 5 years. And I already started on a sequel that I really hope I’m able to finish. Though it doesn’t have many hits, and I don’t think many people have read it at all, which I understand since it basically is entirely focused around Daryl being killed. But damn, I’m proud of this one, and it was really fucking fun to write because witch!Beth is just... the best.

risk it all (part 1 of in for a penny, in for a pound) Summary: Daryl Dixon has a pretty decent life, all things considered. He's got his own place. A good dog. A few friends. Even a girlfriend. He keeps himself out of trouble. Until he starts texting Beth Greene. And hell, if he ain't about to risk it all for this damn girl. Thoughts: This was supposed to be one short multichapter fic focused entirely on smut and social media. Then I got on a roll and it ended up being the beginning of a series! This fic is purely fun. Nothing too serious or heavy. I write it when I’m in a Good Mood because it’s my little happy place. I have plans for about 4 more fics before the series will be finished!

Don’t Make Me Haunt You Summary: So here's the thing: Merle Dixon is dead as fuck. And as it turns out, Beth Greene is the only one who can see or hear him. Which is weird considering she's never met or even heard of this guy, let alone anyone with the last name Dixon. That's her first problem... Thoughts: The reception to this fic has absolutely blown me away. I had no idea anyone would want to read about ghost!Merle haunting Beth and forcing her to solve his murder with the help of his grumpy brother. And it was all inspired by an episode of South Park lmao then I started really getting into it and now it’s just like, my super fun fic where I explore a range of emotions and all kinds of religious beliefs and different mythologies and I can build the world however I want and goddamn I just love writing this fic. Plus there’s a podfic for it! I can’t even begin to explain how much I love this fic and how proud I am of it :)

[ruewrites]

Hi, i hope you are doing good. So i had a request, i really like angst and i was reading We're Blooming Togheter (its very good btw) And i was wondering if maybe you could write like an one-shot about Asmo and more about his last partners? Or maybe more about Lucifer taking care of the brothers at such a young age after being abandoned...i just really like angst.

Revisiting Past Ghosts

AO3

WBT

Ship: Solomon/Asmo, Lucifer/Diavolo (more near the end?)

Word Count: 3113

Warnings: Some violence (skip the third snippit)

A/N: Hi Anon! I’m happy that you enjoyed WBT! I really loved writing it! I’m also always willing to write more about it (I want to write more about it too). This ask actually inspired two one-shots? I’m not going to post the second one yet (I want to finish some other requests first) but I hope you like this first one. I was actually playing with some ideas about writing some more for the au and your comment pushed me to do it, so thank you! I hope you enjoy this!

Asmo remembered his first girlfriend finding out about him. Part of him had always known about his own affections,  but it still made him nervous to tell her. She’d seemed so accepting, so supportive. But Asmo quickly regretted the decision. She’d already had a jealous streak. He knew this, and this just seemed to make her lash out at anyone that even dared to look at Asmo in the halls, including his best friend.  It started out as little things that could be excused as accidents, but then Solomon’s number had been blocked on his phone.  

The only reason that they’d started dating in the first place was because they were in similar social circles. She was cute, Asmo was cute, it made sense. He’d been interested at first, but the more he learned about her personality, the less interested he became. Despite how perfect they may have looked to their peers, they clashed on more subjects than they agreed on. 

Their breakup had been ugly, Asmo wouldn’t deny that.They’d gone back and forth fighting about little things that didn’t matter in the long run. 

He’d thought it was over, until he’d seen Solomon’s vandalized locker.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, a sickness stirring in his stomach. The two of them stayed after school to try to fix whatever damage they could.  There had been horrible notes, drinks thrown onto his text books, lipstick smeared over his notes. Asmo would have thought he would’ve been the target of her anger, but unfortunately this didn’t surprise him. 

“You aren’t responsible for her actions.”

“But she’s obviously still hostile because of me.”

“Stop blaming yourself, you didn’t ruin my locker.” Solomon let out a huff and pushed more sludge into a trash can, “You can’t fix her attitude.”

True but Asmo still felt bad. Things were quiet for a moment as Asmo tried to escape his guilt as he slipped paper towels in between the pages of Solomon’s notes. She’d been flooding his comments, but he didn’t think she’d ever do something like this once they broke up…

He felt Solomon nudge him with his foot, bringing his attention back up. “If you still really feel bad, you could invite me for dinner. You said Lucifer was cooking right?” he smiled. 

Was it simple? Yes. Did it make Asmo feel a little better and maybe even steal a laugh from him? Also yes.

His ex had gotten a new boyfriend eventually. Not that Asmo cared.

Every now and again they would still hiss at each other in the hallway. They’d gotten into a few more fights, mainly over Solomon, and each time Solomon had been the one to pull Asmo away. He hadn’t handled it the best he could have, but it was in the past now. It happened. He didn’t really remember when it all stopped. Eventually they had just sizzled out, going from a raging fire to nothing but smoke and ash.

********

Solomon had just gone home from dropping his assignments off. He promised he’d come back tomorrow, but only if Asmo wanted him too. Asmo had nodded, eyes still red and pillow stained with tears. He genuinely didn’t know what he’d do without Solomon. 

As soon as he was gone, Asmo was left alone with his thoughts again. He knew Solomon had to go home, but he wished he didn’t have to. He didn’t want to be alone. He should go back to school, he really should, but he wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to see his ex. He sobbed into his pillow, gripping it tightly, feeling the fabric become cold beneath his cheeks. It didn’t make sense. He didn’t understand. There wasn’t a reason. 

He did everything he could. He made himself pretty, he got him  the sweetest gifts he could think of, listened to him, cleared his schedule for him… Maybe it still hadn’t been enough. Maybe he could have done more, tried harder. He could have made himself prettier in the mornings or been a little more adoring. Now that it was over, Asmo was making a list of things he could have done better, but it was too late.

He could still remember the last conversation they had and how the bile rose in his throat.

“We need to break up.”

The words had caught Asmo off guard. Everything had seemed to be going fine. They’d never talked about any problems. As far as Asmo had known, they’d been a perfectly happy couple. They did everything happy couples were supposed to do. Asmo did everything a perfect boyfriend was supposed to do.

“But why?” he’d asked, voice already catching in his throat.

“Just ‘cuz Asmo.”

“But-”

“Just. ‘Cuz. Don’t make me spell it out for you.”

Asmo had been snapped at. Asmo hated being yelled at. It made his throat tighten and his body freeze. This wasn’t how this was supposed to be.

“You’re not dumb. You know why.”

But Asmo didn’t know why!

“Wait-”

“I need to go.”

Asmo could feel the mascara running down his face and taste it on his tongue, “Please don’t.”

“Lose my number Asmo.

Then Asmo had been alone. No reason. No explanation. He was just alone sobbing on the sidewalk, looking for an answer he would never get.

He’d been humiliated and broken and he wasn’t sure how to feel. Honestly, he probably would have stayed crying on the sidewalk if Solomon hadn’t found him.

He didn’t want to be alone. He wished Solomon didn’t have to head home.

His door cracked open ever so slightly, and footsteps crossed his room.

“There was ice cream left over in the freezer,” Lucifer seemed a bit awkward, as if he wasn’t sure what to say. He knew Asmo had been broken up with, but he wasn’t exactly sure what to say. It seemed like calling his ex some… choice words had been the wrong decision as Asmo had only cried even harder, defended his ex, and started to blubber about it being all his fault. From there Solomon had taken over and ushered Asmo upstairs.

He’d caught bits and pieces.

I wasn’t good enough. 

I wasn’t pretty enough.

I didn’t love enough.

I wasn’t perfect enough.

Lucifer heard a few other things, but all of these little untruths did nothing but make him angry. He knew his brother, and he knew none of those things were true. He’d seen Asmo interact with his partners, and he did nothing but love them. Perhaps he was a little biased, but he didn’t care.

Asmo sniffled and lifted his head. Ice cream didn’t sound too bad… He wasn’t sure how much of it he could eat, but it was a good breakup food. He sat up a bit and moved closer to his brother. The container was partially full and had brownie chunks mixed in. He leaned against Lucifer’s shoulder and sniffled.  

They sat there in silence,  Asmo wondering why he wasn’t good enough and Lucifer knowing he deserved better.

********

Lucifer was already tense. He could hear the rising voices from the living room. The couple clearly thought they were home alone. Voices rising in the heat of the moment, growing until they reached their inevitable crescendo.

Lucifer saw the slap before he heard it.

A hand brought down onto Asmo’s face. Eyes wide and full of hurt, shock, and embarrassment as tears welled and slowly overflowed onto the floor. He didn’t see Lucifer. It didn’t matter if Lucifer had met the man in his house before this moment. Now he was a stranger, and intruder. He was violating their space, and would be treated as such. 

Before he could disgrace Asmo furthur, Lucifer’s hands were dug into his collar and slamming him harshly against the wall. His vision was clouded with red, lips pulled back in a snarl. Bloodlust clouded his mind.

“How dare you lay a hand on him,” he snarled, grip tightening around his collar, “You have no right to hurt him in any way.”

“Wh-” 

“None.” 

Lucifer vaguely felt the tugging on the back of his clothes, Asmo’s voice no more than a bug flying in his ear. He dropped the man, making sure he stayed between him and his brother.  The fear that Lucifer saw would have been satisfying if not for the situation.

“Leave. If I ever catch you in my home again I will be the last thing you see.”

The man bolted out of the house, Cerberus barking as the door slammed behind him. Lucifer couldn’t relax even with his brother’s soon to be ex gone. His blood was boiling, and Asmo was squirming under his gaze. 

Asmo didn’t think Lucifer was home, he hadn’t thought anyone was home. It was the only reason his boyfriend had wanted to come over in the first place, he wasn’t a big fan of Lucifer or any of Asmo’s brothers really. It was a red flag, one Asmo had seen in the distance. He thought that would resolve over time. Apparently he was wrong.

“He’s not welcome in this family,” Lucifer growled, “No one is to treat you like that.”

Understood?

Lucifer’s tone made Asmo’s skin crawl. He was still trying to process what had happened. His cheek stung, and his eyes were watering. What had they been fighting over? He couldn’t remember. Were they even fighting or had they just started yelling?

Asmo couldn’t help but shrink into himself.

 “Yes.”

His words were soft and barely audible. His mind couldn’t even think about texting Solomon. Where would he even begin?

Lucifer paced around the living room for a moment, muttering to himself. He sounded almost animalistic, so unlike Lucifer. It scared him, the entire situation sent Asmo into a spiral and he wasn’t sure where to go from here. He flinched when Lucifer touched him, and seeing that seemed to make his anger flare again.

Lucifer stared at the mark that started to mar Asmo’s skin before shaking his head and heading off into the kitchen. He returned shortly after and pressed a cold ice pack to Asmo’s face. Hours of silence ticked by. 

Lucifer wanted to press charges.

Lucifer wanted to go after him himself.

Lucifer wanted to bury him deep in the ground with the rest of the spineless worms. 

Asmo told him not to. 

They’d fought about it for a few days, and the relationship had continued for a little longer after that. But eventually, both the argument and the relationship ended.

*********

Lucifer had been looking over one of his cases when Barbatos paged him down. Something about someone wanting to talk with him. While he’d never admit it, his mind hadn’t been focused on his work lately. Something was going on with his brothers, specifically Asmodeus. He’d seemed unusually twitchy and eager up until recently. Now he wouldn’t come out of his room, and he could hear him sniffling. 

 Diavolo’s booming laugh bounced off the walls and was the first thing Lucifer heard before he saw anyone.  Perhaps Diavolo wanted to take the three of them out to lunch again, where Lucifer would then continuously have to check the time and remind Diavolo about PDA as well as Barbatos’ presence.

However, when Lucifer came to Barbato’s desk, he saw a third person that he wasn’t expecting. 

Solomon looked a little frazzled underneath his normally cool composure. He stood stiffly next to Barbatos as Diavolo chattered away. Luciferer spied something pink clasped between fidgeting fingers. 

Barbatos was the first to notice Lucifer’s presence. He made his way over to his side and glanced over towards Solomon and Diavolo. 

“He seems nervous.”

“I noticed.”

“What do you think it’s about?”

 Lucifer hesitated, thinking over his options. Well, he had one idea. If he was correct, it would certainly make everything else fall into place much easier.

“I guess we’ll have to find out won’t we?”

Solomon smiled as he saw Lucifer approaching, causing Diavolo to turn around with a wide grin on his face. 

“Lucifer!” Diavolo chirped, moving closer. He went in for a kiss, but Lucifer stopped him. 

“Later. We have company,” he smiled, patting his boyfriend’s pouting cheek before turning to Solomon. “It’s good to see you Solomon, it’s been a while since we’ve had you at our dinner table.”

“Ah, well, Asmodeus and I have both been busy. We’ve been spending a lot of study time over at my apartment,” he said. Then a small silence stretched on. Solomon looked down at the pink envelope in his hands for a moment and sucked in his breath, “I was actually wondering if you could give something to him.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. He could feel Diavolo and Barbatos behind him, their intrigue was palpable. Lucifer would be lying if he said he also wasn’t curious about what Solomon had to say. “And why can’t you just give it to him yourself?” he asked.

Solomon stopped for a moment, eyes glancing down at the envelope before smiling.

“Well, I’ve been hiding them in secret and leaving them anonymous, so what fun would it be to just give it to him?”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow and Solomon’s face fell. 

“He also hasn’t been answering my texts,” he admitted, “I just need him to meet me in the park tonight. I-”

Diavolo’s eyes lit up, “Oh Lucifer! I didn’t realize your brother had a boyfriend, and one with such romantic ideas at that.”

Solomon’s face lit up red and his eyes shifted to the side. So, there was something going on between his brother and his brother’s childhood best friend. His memories flashed to Asmo’s exes, the things they’d put him through, the pain they’d caused him. He didn’t want Asmo to live through any of that again, he didn’t want things to go wrong and he certainly didn’t want his brother to go through more heartbreak.

“What if I just told him? You’ve been sending him letters for a while, why not just get it over with?” Lucifer asked. 

Diavolo cut in before Solomon could even give his argument. “Lucifer, why don’t you indulge him?” he asked, “You mentioned that Asmodeus loved romantic things like this. Plus it’s adorable. He’s made this elaborate little plan just for Asmodeus.”

Lucifer hesitated for a moment, thinking his decision over, eyes glued to the envelope. It did seem very… Asmodeus, but could he trust this little romance to not leave Asmodeus crushed? It was a gamble with his brother’s happiness, and the stakes were high.

“It does seem like something Asmodeus would enjoy,” Barbatos cut in, nodding towards the letter, “Plus, you can trust him with his own heart.”

But could he really?

A few more minutes ticked by, Lucifer played with his thoughts. Perhaps he had still been soured by his brother’s last boyfriend. The man hadn’t really left a good impression, and Lucifer didn’t want to see Asmo in that situation again. Asmodeus deserved to thrive and to be loved and cherished. He just wanted what was best for him.

“Alright, I’ll give it to him,” he decided. Solomon’s grin returned as he handed the envelope over. “But,” Lucifer continued, “You’d better treat him well, regardless of what happens. I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting him.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Solomon smiled, “I promise I’ll take care of him.”

***********

It was late, but Lucifer couldn’t fall back asleep. He  picked up his phone to look at the time.

Three am. 

How was Asmodeus doing? Surely he and Solomon had gotten to their suite a while ago. Maybe he should give him a call. 

Turning onto his side, Lucifer propped himself up and stared at his husband for a moment. Diavolo was curled up on his side, softly snoring away. He wasn’t the most graceful sleeper, but it was still endearing in a way. It was still wonderfully Diavolo.

Kissing Diavolo’s cheek, Lucifer grabbed his phone before heading downstairs. It rang once. Then twice. He wondered for a moment if his brother would even pick up when a tired voice answered.

“Lucifer?”

“Hello Asmodeus,” Lucifer smiled, “Did you arrive alright?”

“Mmm, give me a second, we just… got to sleep.”

There was shifting on the other side of the line, followed by a second voice. It was slightly muddled, but Lucifer knew who it was.

“I’ll be right back Darling… It’s my brother… No no, not Mammon…. Yes Lucifer.... Go back to sleep, I’ll be back soon.”

There were a few other noises. Kisses perhaps? Then more shuffling and a door shutting.

“Sorry brother dearest, Solomon’s rather clingy when it comes to curling up,  I’m lucky I was able to escape to the porch.”

He sounded happy. It made Lucifer’s body relax and a soft smile spread across his face. Asmodeus was in good hands, he was safe, he was going to be cared for. He still remembered how happy Asmo had been showing off his ring, and how much happier he looked at his wedding. It made him feel at peace, knowing he was loved. 

“I assume you’re having a good time then?”

“Oh yes, all the unpacking is done, and we’re planning  on going out and exploring tomorrow,” he chirped.

“You mean you haven’t explored yet?”

“We were unpacking!”

“Unpacking doesn’t take that long Asmodeus.”

“Buuuuuuusssssyyyyyy,” Asmo sang, “Anyways, I’ll make sure to take lots of pictures tomorrow!”

“Good.”

I’m happy you found him.

Silence stretched between them for a moment. Lucifer could hear the ocean in the background.

“I should be getting back to bed, I have a wonderful husband waiting for me and a long day tomorrow.”

“Mmh, now that you mention it, I suppose I should be getting back to someone as well.”

I’m happy he makes you happy.

“Goodnight Lucifer, I love you!”

“Goodnight Asmodeus.”

Lucifer stared at the phone for a few moments more before going back to his bedroom where a warm bed and an adoring husband awaited him. Kissing Diavolo’s cheek once more, Lucifer settled back into bed, feeling his partner shift behind him.

Asmo looked up at the stars and took in the night air before wandering back inside. He barely had time to plug in his phone before Solomon was sucking him back into the bed and covering his skin with kisses. Honestly sometimes Asmo wasn’t sure what to do with all the love Solomon gave him, he doubted that he even deserved it at times. But as they laid together, Asmo knew that this was where he truly belonged. He’d finally found the one. Asmo had had good and bad partners come and go, but Solomon was the one who stayed.

[bytheangell]

If you are still taking prompts, what would you think about writing something(s) based off of this, either/both, the Professor/TA, or the Writer/Editor?

Dedication (modern AU, Herongraystairs, check the link in the ask for full writer/editor prompt, a wonderful plot idea by @high-warlock-of-brooklyn!) (Read on AO3)

This is the first book Will and Tessa are collaborating on. They’ve written plenty of books individually and Jem’s worked with each of them in turn. But this is the first time they’ve co-authored, an experience that’s proving unique and challenging for all of them.

Being with Will and Tessa while they work on a new project is always a blessing and a curse. They’re two of the best writers of their generation and when they work on their own they’re brilliant, but when they work together - well, they’re also brilliant, but that brilliance is coupled with the occasional near-catastrophic clash of opinions and emotions.

Which is where Jem comes in.

Where Will and Tessa are so driven by passion and feelings, Jem finds it much easier to distance himself from their project (and from the writers themselves) enough to see the bigger picture and find solutions before the issues build up. Like many things about the three of them, it’s a perfect balance - they just work, better than anyone (including Will, Tessa, and Jem) ever imagined possible when they first got together.

It’d been a messy start, with Will and Jem already together but both developing serious feelings for Tessa after they met during a book event. The three of them quickly became very close. There were whispers of which of them would end up leaving, then confusion when the answer was none: instead of two of them growing closer and shutting the third out, they all seemed to adjust and adapt naturally around the three of them coexisting. They aren’t perfect, but they are perfect for each other, at least as far as Jem’s concerned.

Jem knows that what they have is special, which he reminds himself of over and over as Will and Tessa sit on opposite sides of the sofa, voices quickly elevating to nearly shouting over an issue with one of the characters Will is in charge of writing: one he’s chosen to give a pretty damning curse from a trickster faerie in this land of magic their current collaboration is set in.

“Tell him he needs to make the changes, Jem,” Tessa insists, the third time she’s repeated the demand now.

“Tell her that this plot adds depth, and without it, he’s boring,” Will counters. “Sometimes people - characters - need to be brutally honest about their own faults and issues. Sometimes people are disappointing.”

That’s how Jem can tell things are spiraling: when Will and Tessa - who have effectively communicated and collaborated on half a dozen bestsellers and who love each other more than Jem’s ever seen two people experience love - refuse to speak directly to one another. The moment they start talking around each other and at Jem instead is when he knows he has to step in and diffuse.

Usually, it’s a matter of taking a break, getting some fresh air, and coming back with clear minds. Jem normally isn’t one to pick sides, but this is different. He isn’t worried about the direction of the book… but after reading the latest draft from Will, which Will wrote while refusing to speak to either of them for a full week, he’s worried about Will. And he knows Tessa is, too.

“Perhaps a good starting point would be admitting this isn’t really about the character at all,” Jem says softly, gazing closely between Will and Tessa. Will looks a bit guilty and Tessa looks away entirely, which tells Jem that he’s right in guessing their concerns are also less plot-based.

“...what else would it be about?” Will asks defensively. But they can all sense how he’s been pushing them away lately, much like the cursed character undeserving of love he’s written in. It’s obvious that Tessa isn’t sure how to bring it up or else she would’ve already. Or maybe she already had and it hadn’t gone well.

“Tessa, would you mind making some tea?” Jem asks, waiting until she’s out of the room to turn back to Will.

“Will… you know this is about you. You barely talk to anyone for a week then come back with this character in such a self-deprecating mindset…”

“That’s ridiculous. He’s just a character,” Will says, but Jem can tell he’s entirely unconvinced of his own words.

“So if Tess came back having written Evangeline that way?” Jem counters, and there’s that look of subtle guilt, right back on Will’s face as he frowns and pieces together why Tessa’s so upset with him.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” Will sighs.

“We’re not mad at you,” Jem’s quick to point out. “We’re just worried. It’s been a while since you tried to push us away like this, I just want to make sure you’re okay. We both do. Take it out in the writing if you want, but talk with us, too. Alright, my love?”

Jem’s tense as he waits. This has one of two options: Will relents and listens to him and they all have tea and talk this out, or Will storms out and they don’t see him again for another day or two.

Will stays. “I’m just letting the pressure get to me,” he admits. “I’m sure that’s all it is... But yeah. Okay. Tea.”

Tea, meaning ‘I’ll stay. I’ll talk. I’ll try.’ Jem leans over and places a barely-there kiss on Will’s lips before he relaxes back in his seat. Reaching out a hand that Will readily takes, Jem gives it a tight squeeze as they both wait for Tessa to return.

They talk.

In the end, the character arc stays. With a few redeeming modifications at Tessa and Jem’s entirely unbiased suggestion, of course.

---

A little over halfway through the first draft things seem to stall out. They have a progress deadline that week with the publisher and they’re cutting it close - mostly because Tessa keeps tossing everything she writes without giving Jem the chance to look it over. Recently she’s let her curiosity get the best of her, delving into research she should be allowing Jem to help with.

...and when he says ‘delving’, what he really means is stubbornly obsessing over, nitpicking bits of lore to streamline, and doing hours and hours of research for single-line references.

“When was the last time she slept? Like, an actual night of sleep?” Jem asks Will one day after a quick touch-base meeting that went… not terribly, but not particularly great, either.

“You need to get her out of here. No books. No wifi. I tried to kick her out but… well, you can imagine how well that went,” Will admits, and Jem winces in sympathy.

“The Time Out Cottage?” Jem asks, referring to a small cottage they own for unplugged getaways, where the wifi signal is nonexistent and a landline exists for emergency calls. “That means we’ll both be out of easy reach, and with that Friday deadline-”

“I can handle it,” Will cuts him off. “She’s been getting in her own way for days now, but she refuses to listen to me.”

A few minutes later Jem tentatively knocks on the door to the small study that does, in fact, look more like a makeshift research library. He nearly doesn’t see Tessa behind the small mountain of books on the floor, but he hears her pen tapping rapidly against the hardwood. No, not just rapidly - anxiously. He knows that action all too well.

“Tessa, what number is that?” he asks, the question needing no further explanation past his accusatory tone and pointed look at a coffee mug, which is next to a second coffee mug, which is next to a cup of black tea.

“Four? No, wait… what time is it?” she glances around and seems surprised by the height of the sun in the sky. “It’s afternoon already?”

Jem sighs. “It’s nearly four o’clock, Tessa, and your blood is probably about 90% caffeine. Come on, get your things, we’re taking a trip.”

Tessa looks immediately horrified. “No! I can’t, we can’t! The deadline, and I still have to streamline the fae lore between the two-”

“Will has it handled for 24 hours. That’s all we’re asking. 24 hours without research.” “Jem, you know-”

“-that you’ll be twice as productive once we’re back and you’re refreshed instead of running on fumes and fever dreams?” Jem cuts her off, his tone kind but insistent. He bends over and picks up a piece of paper. “Tessa, my love, this is nearly incoherent.”

Tessa reaches up to take the page from him and frowns. “I… okay, I can make out some of this, but I’m pretty sure that bit talks about aliens which isn’t any more reassuring. Will did say I was writing myself in circles, but I thought he was just, well, being Will, so... Yeah. Okay. Maybe I need to step back for a bit.” Tessa sighs. “The Time Out Cottage?”

“I already packed you a bag,” Jem confirms with a soft smile, leaning down to kiss the middle of her forehead before reaching out a hand to help her up off the floor.

When they return exactly 24 hours later, Tessa gets back to work and the lore practically falls into place between the two of them.

They meet the Friday deadline without a problem.

---

Jem spends his free time playing violin while Will and Tessa go through the first draft and begin to brainstorm fixes for plotholes, new minor characters to add to scenes that feel a bit lacking, and other small improvements to really round out the story and the world they’re weaving. They both claim to think clearer with his music in the background so he stays, even if he doesn’t feel particularly useful for this stage of the process until they have a single, coherent draft to hand over to him.

These are the moments Jem’s own insecurities and flaws float to the surface. The moments he watches Will and Tessa, so alike, so perfect for each other, connect on a level he isn’t privy to. He knows it’s a silly thought, that he and Will have their own things, as do he and Tessa. But sometimes he wonders if they truly need him around, or if he’s simply just become too much a part of the routine to actively get rid of.

He watches them sit next to each other with shoulders touching, hunched over a small screen, whispering back and forth. There’s a small smile on his face, one that’s wistful and tinged with hints of longing that, much to his dismay, they pick up on.

“I know that look,” Tessa says, catching Jem’s gaze and drawing Will’s attention before Jem can wipe the expression from his face. “Get over here. I think we’ve done enough work for today.”

Will is the first to move over, making room for Jem in the middle of them. After placing his violin back in its case Jem heads over to join them on the sofa, embracing the way Will and Tessa immediately crowd into his space once he’s settled, both placing a comforting kiss to his temples simultaneously before resting their heads on each of his shoulders and a placing a hand in each of his own.

They talk a bit, not about the book, but about anything and everything else, and fall asleep there, still entwined together.

---

It’s rare for any part of one of their books to be a surprise to Jem upon publication. He sees all the drafts, talks them through the acknowledgments and dedications, double-checks the reference pages against the chaotic piles of books and notes around their home.

So he’s immediately (and rightfully) suspicious the moment they hand him the first advanced copy and tell him to open it, watching his every move with eager expressions. Excited, but anxious.

‘A dedication to the one most dedicated to us:

This book would not be what it is without the kind heart, encouraging words, and infinite patience of James Carstairs. Neither would we. Jem, you are a light in our darkest hours, and we don’t know where we’d be without you.

We hope we’ll never have to find out.

Jem, our love, will you marry us?’

Jem reads, then re-reads the dedication. He closes the book, then opens it again, reading it a third time for good measure.

“Well?” Will asks impatiently, earning himself a nudge in the ribs from Tessa. Will huffs.

“I see you’re as dramatic as always,” Jem says quietly, instead of answering the question posed in the book. He knows his answer. He’s known for a while now what his answer would be, should the topic ever present itself, but he gets a bit of joy from making Will wait in anticipation just a short while longer.

“He wanted to be even more dramatic and show you at the event tomorrow,” Tessa admits. “But we decided against it. We thought you deserved the chance to say no without two hundred sets of eyes on you.”

Jem raises an eyebrow. “You think I’ll say no?”

“You haven’t said ‘yes’ yet,” Will points out, but he doesn’t sound nervous about it. Nor should he be.

“Yes,” Jem says, smiling brightly. “Of course it’s yes.”

[thedistantdusk]

Can you write anything with the Harry/Ron bromance? Thank you, you are helping me survive quarantine!

Thanks to @floreatcastellumposts for all her help! For once, this is only mildly inappropriate! ;)

On AO3.

Rain patters on the window of the attic, sounding angrier by the minute. For once, the exterior of the house is louder. This is quite a feat for the Burrow ever, but on an afternoon in June, it’s almost unheard of.

Harry lets out a deep breath, running his hand across his eyes. Over the past month, he’s adapted to the silence. He’s started to crave it, to consider it reassurance that everything’s on the mend. There aren’t explosions or calls for help or sobs emerging through the rubble and darkness. There’s simply quiet. Solitude. Even—

“HEY!” The door bursts open, slamming against the wall, as Ron pierces through the aforementioned solitude.

Harry just sighs and gets his glasses from the bedside table. No hope of an afternoon nap, it seems.

“Sorry, were you sleeping?” Ron deadpans, not sounding the least bit apologetic.

Harry rolls his eyes; since he and Ginny got back together, Ron and George have greatly enjoyed taking the mickey anywhere they can find it. Just yesterday, George had interrupted a perfectly good garden snog with a series of nonsensical, thinly-veiled questions (“Have you dipped your nib in ink, Harry? How was it? Please, I’m desperately curious for feedback on all nib-dipping experiences; this could be vital information for restocking a line of magical quills at the shop!”)

Now, though, the girls are off shopping; the Burrow is empty, save for the two of them. To Harry, this seems like much of the same.

“Interrupting a kip is the least of your worries, mate,” he mutters darkly, sitting up in bed. He hopes the meaning isn’t lost there. If Ron’s going to be a cock-block, he’s going to hear about it.

Ron doesn’t respond, though. Which is odd. So Harry slides on his glasses and takes in his appearance. Ron’s looming frame stands near the door, his freckles and red hair more distinctive than usual. It could be the lighting, Harry thinks; after all, it is quite gray and dim up here. Ah but no... that wouldn’t explain why he’s now awkwardly shifting in place, rubbing his palms against his jeans.

Then, Ron clears his throat — and suddenly, his face turns red instead of white. “Erm. Listen,” he starts uneasily, avoiding Harry’s eyes. “I’ve erm... I’ve got something to discuss!”

He ends with a sort of jubilant bounce on the balls of his feet, wearing a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Harry peers back warily. If Ginny were here, she’d suss this weirdness out straight away. She’d know, just from his posturing, what Ron’s getting at. A moment later, he opens his mouth to speak again — but just as quickly, he seems to decide something or other is a bad idea, because he waves his hand and strides toward his bed with an anxious huff. As if that explains anything.

“Right,” Ron says, settling down across from Harry. “Right.”

“Right,” Harry echoes, arching an eyebrow. “You… feeling all right?”

“Mm.” Ron hunches over, his elbows on his knees, and stares at the floor.

As the seconds pass, Harry peers at Ron with a growing sense of dread. It’s rare he’s this quiet around him — and Harry doesn’t like it. It’s too reminiscent of darkness, of the times they’ve been at each other’s throats. Has Harry done anything to make him angry this time? He doesn’t think so. Ron’s been supportive, even, of his renewed relationship with Ginny. Apart from giving him shit for it.

This silence isn’t doing his head any favors, though. So Harry decides to break it.

“Listen,” Harry says uneasily. “I don’t want to pry, but—”

“—So you know Hermione and I are properly together, yeah?” Ron blurts, his words stringing together so fast they sound like a single syllable.

Harry clears his throat and tries to respond as delicately as he can. “Mate, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I think most of the castle knows you’re properly together.”

But Ron’s not on the same page. “No,” he says over a humorless chuckle, his eyes still locked on the floor. “That’s erm. That’s not what I’m getting at.”

Then what…?

Oh.

Oh no.

Harry’s stomach clenches with fear, head filling with memories that seem far more distant than a year old. He remembers Lupin’s drawn, tired eyes when he approached them in Grimmauld Place. He remembers the unflinching expression of horror and shock, the way he distanced himself from Tonks’ baby. He remembers the resigned tone in his voice, like a man marching to his own execution.

Then, of course, Harry remembers tiny little Teddy. The baby who’d charged in and changed everything. Tiny little Teddy, who is undeniably adorable… but also fuck-loads of work.

Shit. Harry desperately blinks up at Ron, pleading with the universe that he’s wrong, that he’s made a mistake in this leap of logic. But there’s nothing reassuring about what he finds. Ron’s still staring at the floor, his eyes wide and unseeing, his back hunched.

This couldn’t be... no.

Hermione’s smarter than that, isn’t she? Hell, Ron — with his six siblings — must also be smarter than that! They’d never let... something… happen.

Right?

But even as Harry tries to deny it, he knows there’s a chance — mostly because Hermione’s a right moron when her feelings get involved. Fuck. Harry’s stomach churns as the memories shift. He sees birds pecking at Ron’s hands in that abandoned classroom. He sees Hermione’s face when Ron returned to the tent last year, her eyes flaring with something unbridled and terrifying.

Best to get it over with, though. Like ripping off a plaster. If he’s going to be an uncle (the word lands like a sour rock in his stomach), he reckons he’d rather know as soon as possible.

With that, Harry clears his throat. “Erm. Ron, I’m not going to push you, but—”

“—Hermione wants to know if you want to arrange something where Ginny comes here at night and I go down there and we sleep there ok.”

Somehow, this string of words comes out even more quickly than the first, leaving Ron in a red-faced, mortified silence; Harry only understands any of it at all because he knows Ron so well, but he gives both of them time to process the exacting wording of the declaration.

After a few seconds, though, Harry’s still not sure what to make of it — and not because he didn’t understand the literal words. No… the real fear is that he’s ignored what Ron actually said and supplanted what he wanted to hear.

So Harry draws a deep breath, guarding his heart as he does. “Ok ok ok,” he says, raising his hand. “I… I need to make sure I’ve understood you correctly. You’ve only come in here to tell me that Hermione’s cooked up a shagging arrangement. Is… is that right?”

There’s another pause.

For his part, Ron only looks impressed. “Yeah mate,” he says fairly. “Sums it up.”

Oh for the love of —

Harry releases a half-laugh, half-sigh as he collapses back on the bed. Shagging! That’s all Ron was after! For fuck’s sake! Harry’s chest feels lighter, his head happier, his future brighter.

“You… seem surprised, though ” Ron notes, peering over. “What did you think—?”

Harry laughs again, cutting him off. “I thought you’d got her pregnant! I was terrified for you! Can you even imagine—”

“Nooo!” Ron says sharply. He shudders, the color draining from his face. “No,” he repeats, raising his eyebrows. “No, I cannot, so please don’t even joke about—”

“Oi, who’s joking?” Harry counters. “You’re the two who ran off to Australia and spent nights in hotels! Your mum was scandalized, by the way. It was brilliant.”

He ends with a grin, but it seems that the word Australia was a bit of a trigger; Ron’s face is now blank and happy, his mouth spread into a gormless smile as he stares at the wall above Harry’s head.

Ugh. Harry looks away. He’s glad he hasn’t volunteered his (rather unfortunate) knowledge that those two shagged before they even left the castle. Harry still can’t decide if Ginny’s ability to wheedle information out of people is a blessing or a curse, but he reckons it’s best to push the subject of Ron and Hermione’s sex life from his mind.

As if on cue, Ron sighs from his bed. Harry’s pleased to find he’s not making that weird Hermione face anymore, but he doesn’t look entirely… settled either. His expression is pensive, his arms crossed over his chest, and it takes a few more seconds for Harry to understand why — but when he does, it’s like a lightbulb goes off in his brain.

Oh.

Harry releases a deep breath of his own. Ron hasn’t said a word, but he’s certain they’re both filled with this sort of… shuddering awareness of the situation at hand. Because this is the first time they’ve broached this, isn’t it? The fact that they’re intimate now, with each other’s sisters. Harry can’t decide if that’s more comforting or repulsive — but more than anything else, he reckons it’s just... different. Nothing more, nothing less.

After all, it wasn’t long ago Harry was terrified they’d get together and leave him. But when they got together — right in front of him — Harry hadn’t been jealous or scornful; he’d been happy for them. He reckons he would’ve been chuffed, even, had they not been in the middle of a battle, but that hadn’t stopped them for long.

Then again, it also wasn’t long ago that Ron yelled at Ginny for snogging Dean. A year ago, Ron had yelled at him for snogging Ginny — mostly because he’d been concerned about his sister’s feelings. Harry hadn’t blamed him for that, not really, but he nonetheless reckons it should’ve foreshadowed Ron’s cock-block tendencies.

Another vacant smile crosses Harry’s lips. They’ve all changed, haven’t they? War changed them, to the core. Age changed them, to the core….

“Erm. But please, don’t give me details,” Ron blurts, apropos of nothing. He shivers again despite the warm afternoon. “I think I’d rather remove my fingernails with a blunt needle than hear about how much you love shagging my sister, thanks.”

Harry raises a brow. Technically speaking, Ron’s wrong in his conclusion. They haven’t… done that. Not properly, even if they’d hedged around it more times than he can count. They’ve done basically everything but shag, actually, but Harry reckons that would be more mortifying to admit than just letting it go.

Not that they aren’t ready; Harry knows they’re both ready. But through either sheer practicality (his reasoning) or misguided chivalry (Ginny’s), Harry couldn’t bear to live with himself if he took her virginity in their usual haunts of the garden or Mr Weasley’s shed.

Now, though, they’ve got… options. That Ron — of all people — has delivered on a silver platter.

Harry feels his pulse quicken at the thought as his jeans start to tighten. Aaand lovely, this is now thoroughly embarrassing. He needs a distraction, now.

So Harry loudly clears his throat and picks up the threads of their conversation. “Yeah, and I’ll trust you to do the same when it comes to Hermione. I’ve no desire to hear about—”

Ron interrupts with a wave of his hand, but when he speaks again, he’s not taking the mickey like before. “Noted,” he says firmly. “Just erm... I guess I also wanted to make sure...” He trails off, biting his lip, but seems to think better of whatever he’d started. “Nevermind, it’s stupid. Do you want to play chess?”

Harry’s not letting him off the hook that easily. “Whatever it is, mate, I’m sure it’s not the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Ron laughs. “Yeah, and that was kind of my point, actually.” He rubs his hand on the back of his neck. When he looks at Harry again, there’s a telltale spark of reassurance shining behind his eyes. “You… erm. You know we’re still us, yeah?”

Oh.

Harry hadn’t realized he’d been that… transparent. He gnaws at the inside of his cheek. They’re together now — all four of them, which is the best possible situation. But he can’t deny there’s a lingering fear that romantic relationships, real ones, will change them forever. That he’ll lose the first friend he ever had. That they’ll finally have found the one thing they can’t talk about, even as the topic voraciously consumes both of their thoughts.

Has any of that happened, though? asks a voice in the back of his head. It sounds suspiciously like Ginny.

Harry’s lips curl into another smile as the answer comes to him.

No. No, it hasn’t.

Because at the end of the day, they’re still Harry and Ron. They’re the two prats from Gryffindor who became best friends on the Hogwarts Express and got detentions together and shared a mutual loathing of Malfoy, all as their voices cracked. They’re still Harry and Ron, who fought bitterly and pretended to hate each other and nearly vomited on each other and discussed wanking techniques.

No matter what, they’ll always be Harry and Ron. Their relationship survived Voldemort. How could Harry have thought it wouldn’t survive sex?

“Yeah, we are,” he agrees. “Just, you know...” He makes a vague hand gesture. “Taller. Wiser.”

Ron smirks, rising to stand. “Actually, I was gonna go with shagging each other’s sisters — but if you’d like to pretend you’re wiser...”

Harry chokes out a laugh. “I reckon Hermione’s still the wisest of us all, seeing how she arranged this. What time were you thinking, by the way?”

“Eleven minutes past ten,” Ron says promptly. “We reckon it’s less suspicious if it’s a bit off the hour.”

“Eleven minutes is highly specific, mate.” Harry raises his eyebrows. “Please tell me that number wasn’t in your head because of some… personal record. Or something.” He makes a face and moves to stand, too.

Ron just jerks his chin towards the door. “Do you want to play wizard’s chess? And I’m not going to dignify that with a response, by the way — but just know, you’re definitely, definitely incorrect.” His lips twitch. “As well as a total wanker.”

Ha! He’s left himself wide open!

Harry laughs and strides into the hallway, too. “Only when I think about—”

“UGH!” Ron groans dramatically as they walk downstairs, but Harry can hear the grin in his voice. “I thought we agreed never to discuss that!”

Harry spreads his palms in surrender, but doesn’t push it; Ron’s been more than understanding today, so he reckons he’ll let it slide — at least until the next time he tries to give him shit.

Then they march into the living room wearing stupid, contended grins, just as they’ve done a thousand times, for one reason or another. Then they play wizard’s chess, just as they’ve done a thousand times. Then Ron kicks Harry’s arse, just as he’s done a thousand times.

Ron pumps his fist in triumph and lets out a jubilant yelp as he resets the board — and although Harry would never admit it aloud, he’s nonetheless reached a comfortable, contented conclusion.

He’s fine with losing at wizard’s chess for the rest of his life… as long as he loses to him.

[kswhateverspace]

The Ruby and Christina Discord Drama

To my followers who have no idea what this is about, feel free to ignore this if you’d like. This is a long post showing everything that went down with the kicking of 3 members in a discord I’m a member and Admin of. I will share a bit, and then the rest will be under a cut. 

Jaye (hernameisjaye/ @reneesgoldsberry​) and I didn’t feel it necessary to address the kicks of the server publicly and just thought things would die down and people would move on. That doesn’t seem to be the case and so while I don’t want to give any attention to Krow (grimreich666), the continued attack of Dandybear has made this post necessary. On December 9th, 2020, 1 member was kicked from the discord. Michele (kerozenangel). She was kicked specifically because of this post she made

It was incredibly rude to all the writers in the discord and also @/everyone about it. The removal at this time was specifically to protect the mental well being of the writers who occupied the discord. In addition, for being continually antagonistic in discussions with other members.

Jaye and I are not big on public warnings in regards to someone’s character and the way one thinks. The only thing we correct is off topic discussion and only if it gets out of hand. Behind the scenes we talk a lot if certain members are acting up, and mentally keep track on how many instances are occurring, if behavior seems to be improving etc. You don’t see it, but when issues arise it is discussed, usually in length, and then we decide how to proceed. We also don’t publicly report when a complaint is sent to one of us about a member, but we have been sent them and they are taken into consideration.

On December 11th 2020, 2 members were kicked from the discord. Krow (grimreich666) and RVCBard (eshusplayground)

There is quite a bit to unpack here, but I am first going to address the tumblr post Krow made. I never planned on replying, just letting it go. But Krow continues to antagonize a member (dandybear) of the discord who had NO involvement in her removal from the Discord and it’s time all sides are put out for those who are not aware, or those who don’t have the full story to judge. I will be addressing the youtube video at the very end of this post.

I’m going to address the tumblr post in question in sections.

“So it has come to my attention that we cannot have a civil conversation in the Ruby and Chirstina Fandom. Nearly a month ago I gave up my own small Ruby and Chirstina Discord to join another manged by Kswhateverspace.”

Civil discussions are had all the time, what occurred began as a civil discussion until Krow made it personal by telling Jaye to learn her own black history. That was the reason for the kick. Personal attack. I will post screenshots of the entire encounter at the end. As for managed by me, I am just an admin, and did not start out that way. I offered to help organize the discord and tried to create events to make things a bit easier to navigate and more fun. I originally invited Krow to this discord after seeing people asking for links on tumblr to it.

No one was asked to give up any server, it was simply an open invitation.

“I thought that the community would be a good place to vibe with other members of the Ruby and Chirstina community. At first it was welcoming until I started writing my own Fan Fic for the Ruby and Chirstina ship. It had been users by the name of Dandybear and Agent Sheryl and a few others started to bury the work I posted and they would shade me, barely would I get comments on my work because they would fill the submission page with there personal conversations.Now I’ve written two novels professionally and I am working on a third and out of my 15 years of writing I can safely assess when somebody is trying to blackball or bury someone’s work because there work isn’t meeting up to snuff. And as for me I always supported their work because Christina and Ruby content benefits everyone, now I didn’t get into AO3 for the comments I did it because I love Chrisby.”

This is completely not true. There is a channel I created dedicated to posting work only, exactly to prevent the burying of work. Krow would actually break the rule from time to time of that channel, which is that it’s for links to works only, not discussion of said works. There is a separate channel to discuss. Despite the breaking of the rule, I never actually removed her creator role and instead just let it slide. Also, “Shading” never occurred.

“Yet it was only a week ago that me and a few others we noticed the mean girls clique right away as it consisted of Danybear, Frankie, Kswhateverspace and Agent Sheryl, who had came from my server to join.”

I want to address this on a personal level. I have literally spoken to Krow on a voice call, for 2 hours, with Frankie also in attendance, as well as Agent Sheryl. We had been doing the drop a random pin on the map game and it was a pretty fun time. Prior to this instance, I didn’t have the most favorable view of Krow as she tended to not have a filter when posting and I wasn’t always comfortable by what that was, however, I take my role as admin seriously, and in particular being a white woman in a predominantly black server, I never wished to step on anyone’s toes or out of line. Any worries or concerns I ever had or have, I always defer and clear with Jaye. After this game, I became more comfortable in general with her presence in the discord, but she continued to post fairly unfiltered views that would generally derail a discussion etc. and overall behavior within the discord did not make for a very comfortable place a lot of the time. I say this as myself, and from fellow members at the time of instances. I was at war with myself on this a lot of the time because I was the one who invited Krow, but no one can predict how people will be or mesh.

At this part of the post I will address Krow’s accusation that Dandybear “shaded her”. The screencap Krow uses at the end of her post.

In case it isn’t clear, You is a tv show and not literally @ Krow in case that’s what was thought.

“The egregious abuse of power there Admin and Owner Hernameisjaye is sickening; as her rampage all started on Thursday when Jaye went on a rant saying that Christina was racist. And to me and another black female members acknowledged her opinion but we disagreed with it as we had watched the show several times and understood the premise of the timeline within the Jim Crow Era. Not wanting to fight we had calmly stated our disagreement to her baseless claim and yet she still would not let up even after we have both took the high road as mature adults to leave the conversation.”

I will let screenshots of the entire discussion speak for themselves. I will preface the screenshots with the rules of the discord, which were last edited on December first.

I’ll speak on rule 6 here.

“In the event that we decide to kick/ban a specific user, that individual will receive a message from the admin team notifying them of the final decision.”

At then end of the day, Jaye and I decided to not inform those who were kicked the reason. It wouldn’t have changed the result and in all honesty, we were tired. If an issue wants to be taken up with that, it’s valid. However, no result would’ve been undone.

In most channels on the server, there are pinned messages about what a channel is for as well. This channel was always intended to be a difficult discussion channel, and those that enter are agreeing to engage in difficult discussions as it relates to the show. Krow broke rule 2 by making it personal. You can see the whole chain below. As for RVC, she made it clear she was no longer comfortable in the server and didn’t trust the admins, and decided to turn a situation that didn’t directly involve her to be about her.

After this, RVCBard was kicked. Throughout the life of the discord RVC was consistently combative and antagonistic towards members who’s views or opinions she didn’t agree with. Or if someone disagreed with her. It was an issue that would flare up often, but looked past because we wanted the server to be inclusive even at the detriment to the overall health of the server. We received multiple complaints from different members about RVC with the average complaint being that she made the user uncomfortable due to her approach to different discussions in varying channels. All of the above was taken into consideration that night, and was essentially the final straw.

And despite not being comfortable with approaching mods, she sent me the following after all this went down.

For clarification, I was not present at the time and woke up to multiple messages and had to catch up on my own. 

In the past, RVCBard had contacted me with an issue she saw in the server.

I talked it over with Jaye, and it was decided thirsting channels would be created to help address the problem. I show this as an example of good faith that when issues are brought to our attention, we look into it and do something about it if we’re able.

“It wasn’t long ago nearly 48 hours after I lost a family member that was dear to me that this mess ensued, I didnt carry my personal issues into conversation as I enjoy Christina and Ruby as a get away. Yet it is damn near sickening how an Admin can kick someone without warning because your losing an arguement. This isn’t an after-school special and it’s sad that this show that delivers it’s take on Black History and pain cannot be understood even by the simplest of minds, as they are too busy oversexualizing and insulting the Ruby and Chirstina Ship to understand that we see Christina and her flaws as well. I own 2 Discords myself and NEVER would I go out my way to make somebody feel uncomfortable like the way they did me.”

I was offline and asleep for the majority of this night. And this was the reaction to the news of her family member.

While the loss of her family member is tragic, and I sympathize with the loss, it is not a free pass. The kick happened because of hostility and personal attack. With a history of problematic behavior.

I wish to highlight this part from that paragraph

“as they are too busy oversexualizing and insulting the Ruby and Chirstina Ship”

I honestly have no idea who this is supposed to even be at. The entire discord is dedicated to Ruby and Christina. Oversexualizing? Really? Acknowledging Christina’s racism, in whatever form it presented itself in, is in fact seeing Christina and her flaws.

It is at this point I’d like to share the message Krow sent me after her removal and my response.

Now onto the video that was posted Jan 1st, 2021 that has resparked the drama. Which, the video is actually the worst offense done so far. I will address particularly awful points with timestamps that you can reference for yourself. Credit to @femeivor​ for helping with grabbing timestamps as I’ve stayed up incredibly late writing this all up.

To highlight the targeting that is going on in this video, I would first like to present the controversy surrounding LITTD chapter 5. Dandybear upon receiving valid criticism of her story replied with the following, which Krow decided to piggyback on.

With that shown, let's get onto the video titled “Dear AO3 Fanfic Writers”

1:41 - "there was this whole thing where they couldn't have a mature conversation as adults and decided to kick me and several other group members out for not feeling that way"

- If you’ve made it this far, you know how exaggerated this is.

2:10 - Says a couple of writers from the server are "abyssmal and you know it comes from their fucking area"

- Spoiler alert, at the end of this video she says her discord is a place to not be judged.

6:54 - huge rant about people having Christina be William in their fics even though that's canon compliant

- For this I shall simply copy and paste her own fic’s summary:

- When Ruby get's the chance of a lifetime to change her life working under Tic's strange yet introvert distant cousin Christina, she gets more than she bargained for. As Christina a well known lawyer struggles to free herself from her fathers abusive shadow after the death of her brother William and her elder brother Caleb; she seeks to gain control over the lodge her father has denied her as his only heir. Yet first Christina must clear her father and lodge members names a task that seems all to impossible under the watchful eye of her fathers righthand-man; yet such a task is proving itself to be difficult as she is taken by her new P.A. As Ruby finds out how to read the strange yet alluring Christina, a waiting William comes to make her dreams come true yet are all dreams true; yet she is sucked into into a world of wizards and dangerous turns. Can love come at such a time, or will the half-truths threaten to rip the two apart?

- I will also add here my OWN comment on said story

https://archiveofourown.org/comments/357964615

8:00 - straight up calling out Davenports, just not by name.

8:30 - says it's "disgusting" to have Christina spend a lot of time as William which is, again, canon compliant

11:00 - calls some fanfics "crap" and "torture porn for the soul"

11:14 - "I'm not trying to stifle creativity!"

- *stares into the camera like I’m in the Office *

11:33 - calls out a fic for including attempted rape when she has previously praised a fic that included CSA

11:50 - "you don't really understand these characters, you don't really understand her at all"

- Christina is not given some EPIC backstory in the show and literally no one knows that much about her. Only what we can perceive and deduce. Aka, tons of headcanons from everyone.

13:00 - now telling people what they should be writing instead

13:34 - mockingly calling out Dandybear again, this time with more than one fic

14:10 - once again telling people what they should be writing

14:30 - mocking people for writing smut then says “I don’t caaare - I mean I like that - I love smut….is that it?”

14:55 - "and I notice that some of you guys start out so great in your fics and then it goes down hill!"

- Is this encouragement or stifling creativity?

15:13 - calling out another fic

- I’m tired, are you tired?

15:33 - "Who the fuck writes this shit? Oh my fucking god! Are you guys just dumb? Are you guys stupid?"

16:00 - "Some of you wanna tag and say 'this is a Ruby and Christina Discord server [mocking noises] and if you don't agree with us we're gonna kick you out for no fucking reason!' You know? Shut the fuck up!"

- And if you’re THIS far, you very well know the reason and it definitely wasn’t NONE

16:16 - "you obviously don't know what Ruby and Christina mean to real fucking die hard fans"

- I personally love a classic gatekeep.

17:06 - "But for some of y'all to write these disturbing, disgusting fanfictions"

17:54 - calling writers racist for including racist characters in their fanfics for a show that included a lot of racism.

18:41 - says people are wasting her time because they're writing fics that she doesn't want to read.

18:49 - "This isn't for all fanfic writers. This is only for a couple of 'em. You know who the fuck some of y'all are. And shame on you for even doing this and writing this and trying to fucking push this kind of fanfic and this garbage off."

- If you’re gonna keep beating a dead horse and bringing up drama that you created again and again, start saying people’s names instead of hiding behind blanket statements.

19:07 - "And that's the whole problem why I decided to do Krows Korner. Because I'm so sick of these fandoms and even some of these professional writers running their ass around here, delivering garbage and people being a bunch of sheeple to say that this shit is the greatest shit ever. Honey, it's either you have dyslexia or a reading complex because I'm not really fucking seeing what you thought was so great about this fic." 

20:20 - "Join my Discord server if you wanna know the full, TRUE story about what happened at the other Discord server and how these people supposedly claim that they love Ruby and Christina but they support a racist fanfic writer who clearly does not understand about black relations, but lies and decides to be a dick every-damn-where"

- The clearest target at Dandybear herself is in this rant here. Which you can recall above from the screenshots I posted, that when confronted with valid criticism, aims to do better because we all have room for growth. Including racists characters can always be tough because they are uncomfortable characters as they are meant to be, but run the possibility of being too much. However they are not a direct reflection of an author’s view.

20:52 - "If you wanna join a fandom on Discord that doesn't judge you for liking what you like as Ruby and Christina, and even if we disagree, you know, still not have fear of being kicked out because you disagree, come join my shit. It's not even worth the headache, sweetie."

- Interesting take after making a whole video attacking writers/people you hate from your previous discord after you were removed for breaking rules aka personal attack. “doesn't judge you for liking what you like”

21:30 - "I don't care any fucking more. The drama is done, it's settled"

- Considering you have brought this drama up again, after your removal on the 11th of December 2020, I think you might still care.

21:33 - "I figure I would clear a record, basically, to what happened. And, you know, signify the issue that these motherfuckers is crazy. They're crazy as hell."

Everyone at the server had moved on and enjoyed the holidays, but this video has reopened a closed case due to the clear targeting of a writer who happens to be popular. Almost this whole video is an entire disguised attack towards her.

I sincerely hope this clears the air on everything that happened and continues to happen. You have the full story and can judge for yourself whether or not the kicks were justified. If you feel they weren’t, that’s fine and you can now join a new discord server of more like minded people. This continued targeting of Dandybear is unacceptable, and those of you in contact with Krow should not be allowing this to continue. Dandy is a real person like all of us, and if you have a valid criticism of her fic, you can do it in a rational manner. Or stop reading. Like every person ever has done in every fandom ever. Dandybear had no involvement whatsoever with the kicks of the server, they are simply a member and a writer in the fandom and this has gone too far.

If you feel like this server isn't the place for you anymore, I encourage you to find a new place to express yourself in the best way you'd like. We all came here to love Ruby and Christina and have a place to do so in an organized fashion. If you don't like the rules, or consider this place unsafe, I hope you find a community that aligns more with your interests and world view.

[ngame989]

“Drive” - TGG SVTFOE Fanfic Collection Ch. 8

Writing: @ngame989​

Art: @toxicpsychox​

Editing: @ubercelloczar​​, @toxicpsychox​, @seddm​

Alternate fic links - FFnet, AO3

Summary: It's back to school for Marco, and Star is left to face the specter of real world responsibility once more - with a bit of help from the adorable antics of Mariposa.

Comic Page

Masterpost

Finally, a new chapter! This one took a long time to put together in a way I was satisfied with, so sorry as always for the delay. Writing is a bit of a secondary hobby for me, and while I absolutely love Starco and love making this series, the actual act of putting words to a page is rather draining for me. I'd love to promise more or faster updates, and if the right creative inspirations strike that is still what I'd love to happen, but it's gonna come at whatever pace it comes at. If that means I'm here for years to come, so be it. See below for the text, hope you enjoy!

“Alright, next up is Wilhelm… Wund? Want? Wouldn’t? Marco, this name is weird.” Star waved the flash card around in the air.

“Wundt, but the Ws both sound like Vs. It’s German.”

“German… that’s the place where that guy who was basically mustache Mina came from, right?” Marco froze in his tracks as his eyes widened in complete incredulity. Star uncurled from the ball she was in on their bed and sat up, hair and nightgown all astray as she tilted her head to the side in befuddlement. “What, did I say something wrong?”

“No, that’s- it’s just- that’s one way to put it. Don’t worry about it.” No way he was touching that subject with a mile-long pole.

She crossed her arms proudly. “See, I did remember something from school, then! OK, so Wundt, what’d he do?”

“What didn’t he do? He basically invented psychology! Before him, everyone just kind of thought about thinking, but he was the first one to really study it with any sort of scientific method.” The first week of school had been going fairly well, Marco thought, but it was certainly busy. Maybe it was the fact that this was his first classroom education in two whole years, but it was way faster paced than anything he remembered. All the reading he’d done to prepare before the school year started helped, sure, but it was a sizable effort to keep on top of everything.

“Mhmm, I see.” Star tentatively raised her hand, nodding thoughtfully to his every word. “Tell me about his glasses.”

“What?”

“The glasses? For seeing someone’s problems really clearly? Come on, Marco, it wasn’t that hard to figure out. I bet they were ginormous.”

A few giggles escaped his lips and Star puffed her cheeks up in indignation. “No, Star, that’s not how glasses work. They just sorta- they make you look smarter, I guess?”

Star stuck her tongue out and pinched her fingers together to form two circles, aiming her hands carefully to position them over Marco’s eyes. “Nope, you seem just as smart without them. Anyway, let’s see here, next up is Pavlov.”

“Oh, you’ll love him. He studied stuff with his dogs.”

As if on cue, some of the laser puppies scrambled out from under the bed, jumping into Star and Marco’s arms. Star’s shout of “PUPPIES!” sounded like background noise behind the licking and panting invading his personal space, but it was a welcome change. With how big their yard was now, their pets were often gone for so long at a time that Marco felt like he barely saw them anymore, but they had a way of showing up randomly at oddly convenient times. Despite being laserless since magic had been destroyed, whatever dog breed the wand had concocted seemed to stay just as small and cute forever. Barko Diaz stayed in Marco’s arms while Star cuddled the rest and cooed over them one by one. “Anyway, his dogs drooled whenever food was placed in their mouths; that’s just the natural response. But Pavlov noticed that if he just held the food in front of them before feeding it to them, after a while they’d start to drool whenever they saw the food. That’s how he invented the name conditional reflex.”

“I, Star Butterfly, officially vote for puppy guy as the best- Sajak, hahaha, stop it!” The dogs pounced on her face and she fell backwards onto the sheets. “Marco, help! I’m being swallowed by a fur-ocious tidal wave! Get your jammies on and join the fun!”

Marco rolled his eyes as he pulled off his shirt and pants. Top drawer… nothing. Middle? Nope. Still only in his underwear, he quickly rummaged through both their sets of drawers in search of his usual blue pajamas to no avail. A frustrated groan rumbled in his throat as he bent over to check underneath the drawers.

“That’s it, mama like,” he could hear Star murmuring. He quickly glanced behind him to find… Star sitting up, his pajamas in hand. “Staaaaar,” his voice and brain both exasperatedly grumbled. Though he’d figured out that his own sense of sexuality was grounded in emotional intimacy more than anything, they’d still become quite comfortable with each other and themselves physically; normally he wouldn’t complain in the slightest about the attention, but he still had a job to do.

“Ooooone more second,” she drawled out while her half-lidded baby blues roamed his body.

“Alright, Star, let’s just pick one more card, OK? I need to make sure I’m ready for tomorrow.”

“Fiiiiine. The last one is… Freud. I’m probably saying that wrong, too. Wait a second, Janna talked about him once, after I told her about that psychology stuff we did years ago. She said he’d be really good at figuring out my mom issu-”

“Not the same thing. Come on, Janna…” Marco grumbled. Leave it to Janna to give the worst possible introduction to academic psychology. “Alright, that’s enough of that,” he stated decisively and snatched all the index cards out from under paws and tails before crawling onto the edge of the bed.

“Yay! Now scooty that booty, you cutie patootie!” Star gently cleared the space between them and the puppies all left the room except for Marco Jr. It wasn’t the best dog name, but it was at least better than it would’ve been for his sibling.

He propped himself up on his elbow and fluffed his pillow. “I’m honored to do my duty.”

“Hehe, you said doodie.” Before he’d even fully settled into his usual spot, Star had already climbed halfway on top of him and settled her head on his chest, prompting him to embrace her. Marco smiled and planted a soft, lingering kiss on her neck. Sometimes it was too warm, too cramped, and she’d strangle his limbs hard enough that it took him 10 extra minutes to stand up in the morning; despite all that, he couldn’t be happier to snuggle every night away.

“I-I know it’s been crazy this past week, so thanks for helping with this, even though you hate school.”

“Hey, I don’t hate it. I just don’t like classes, tests, homework, and having to ask to use the bathroom...” She paused and blinked a few times. “OK, maybe I do hate school.”

“If it makes you feel any better, in college you can just go whenever you need to.”

“You know, that actually kinda does. Anyway, learning can be fun, and you’re a good teacher. Keep it up and in a few years maybe I’ll have a secondhand degree,” she snickered. Her fingers started to fidget with his hands while her toes tangled themselves up in his pant legs. “Sorry I was so distracted. I guess it’s finally sinking in that you’re gonna be doing this for years and years and now I’m the one with no clue what I want to do. Sucks a little bit to think about.”

“Doesn’t mean we’re not still gonna be a team, but it- yeah, that kinda does suck. Maybe we can try looking through some more options, if you want? I know you didn’t like any programs at the college, but I’m sure there’s all kinds of jobs or volunteer work around town. We could-”

She squirmed in his grasp, tilting her head downwards and away from his. “Marco… I don’t know, I just really don’t think I’m even in a place where I can just point at something and say, ‘yep, that sounds like a great job to sign up for!’ Maybe I’m just not ready for that yet.”

It always saddened him when she had this little faith in herself because he knew firsthand how capable she was of the most amazing things. Whatever he could do to help get her self-confidence back and live up to her potential, he would. He brought his hand closer to her face, stroking her cheek gently - though not before clumsily misjudging distance and poking her in the mouth, which elicited a snort of laughter. “OK, whatever feels right. Besides, it’s not like I know what I want to do with my entire life right now either. We’ll figure it out whenever you’re ready. In the meantime, there’s a new season of Dude’s Food Feuds and a plate of nachos with our names on it this weekend! “Plus, I heard Mom and Dad say they might spend part of this weekend at Eclipsa’s…” he trailed off, nuzzling into her neck and pulling her closer.

She twisted herself to look at him as best as she could. “Oh yeah?” Her eyebrows wiggled  suggestively.

“Yeaaaaaaahn.” His attempt to continue being flirty was foiled by a giant yawn, indicating once and for all that it was time to sleep, and her laugh at his expense was stifled by her own yawn indicating she was in the same position. “Let’s get some shuteye, I’ve got another early morning tomorrow. Night, Star.”

“Night, Marco.” After a good-night peck Star turned herself around and they resumed their embrace. Less than a minute later, slumber claimed him.

***

“Dangit, Tom, again? You’ve gotta be free to chill at some point!” Angie folded the corner of the poetry collection she was perusing and looked up at Star who had her phone sprawled across their couch. “But I wouldn’t even mind doing kingdom junk. It’s better than another day on the couch by myself!” With her free hand, Star absentmindedly dangled around a spare doll of Marco in the princess outfit, which a starry-eyed Mariposa was stumbling around on the floor trying to catch. “So I’m not ‘physically capable of sticking my arms into lava tar’, I don’t see what that has to do with-” Even from the other end of the phone, Angie could still pick up on the mounting frustration in the demon prince’s tone. Star suddenly sharply inhaled and took a moment before responding. “Sure, maaaaybe it would have something to do with clearing a toxic hellgae infestation from the depths of the lava tar pits. Ugh, fine, you’re right. Can I at least see you next week, then?” Only a split second went by before Star sat up suddenly. “JANNA? Hello? Dangit,” she groaned while tossing her phone to the other end of the couch.

“Is everything alright, Star?”

Star crossed her arms and huffed. “Tom’s super busy with Underworld stuff, and I guess Janna’s there too for some reason even though humans really shouldn’t be able to handle any of it. Ponyhead has some kinda interview with some production company or something, Eclipsa and my parents are on vacation, and even Ferguson and Alfonzo are too busy to hang out!” She flopped facedown into one of the cushions; her final cry of “stupid school” was barely intelligible.

Mariposa giggled and yanked the doll from Star’s now-limp hand. “Mago! Mago!” Mariposa babbled while waddling around. Her little foot got caught on the fabric of the doll’s dress, and like a tiny giant she slowly toppled to the ground. Angie moved to help her daughter, who let go of the doll to grasp for her mother’s hand. “Mama!” It had been only a few weeks since Mariposa began to put together words with any regularity, and she’d already taken a fierce liking to calling for her parents and brother.

“Mariposa, I’m trying to be grumpy here and that’s really hard when the cutest thing in the universe is talking about the other cutest thing in the universe, and that includes the entire Puppybunny Dimension!”

Suddenly, an idea came to Angie. “Why don’t you come with me to the community college and help watch Mariposa? I’ve missed spending time with her this week but I couldn’t take care of her all day, plus it’d be good to get her out of the house.”

“Marco said he was really busy today, though,” Star pouted.

“Well, then I guess it’ll just have to be a girls’ day. What do you say, Mariposa? Do you want to go with mommy and Star to school?”

She clapped her hands cheerfully. “Gool!”

“Who am I kidding, I can’t say no to you,” Star cooed, pinching the toddler’s cheeks. “So when are we going?”

“I have office hours in an hour, so the sooner the better. Come out to the car whenever you’re ready.”

“Just gotta get my purse!” Star bounded across the living room and up the stairs quickly enough that her voice trailed off even at full volume. Angie smirked as she went about gathering her usual toddler travel supplies. While all the reasons she’d given for their trip today were true, she had an ulterior motive. It was pretty obvious that Star was in a funk from life catching up to them, and a change of pace never hurt. Well, that, and Star drives everyone a bit crazy with nothing to do at home. Seriously, who knew one girl could spill so many gallons of pancake batter all over the counter in a day?

Once she had everything, she headed out to the faithful family minivan and strapped Mariposa into her carseat, tossing in her small satchel for work and the much larger bag of baby supplies. Right as she finished, she heard the front door shut and lock behind her as Star made her way to the car. “Can I take Mariposa around the college today? Marco’s baby carrier fits like a glove.” Star quickly strapped it on, tightened it, and did a little twirl before taking it back off and climbing into the backseat.

While Angie was driving, she barely had any ability to check how the girls were doing in the backseat - there’d been so much construction on the Earthni road system that she could never trust the routes she was used to - but there were little glimpses of Mariposa being enthralled with Star’s playful antics. Star’s classic yellow smiling star purse swung like a pendulum for Mariposa to catch and they both cheered when she finally succeeded. Before she even knew it, they arrived at the Echo Creek Commewnity College, which had expanded dramatically in both size and architectural diversity as a result of the Cleaving. Most places in town (and throughout the world, so she’d heard) had merged in ways that left individual communities intact, but for whatever reason the college campus had become completely intertwined with a Mewman campground. It was certainly more of a spectacle than the once-modest town college and did wonders for getting both halves of the Earthni community involved.

Star marveled at the seamlessly blended hybrid buildings and scenery while Mariposa did much the same with her own thumbs. Nondescript brick buildings mingled with medieval wood and stone and the occasional ornate decorations, which is why the quad had a marble dragon standing proud among the trees. “Woah, is that a cornball and football field at the same time?”

“That’s a good question. Honestly, I’m still not used to all the changes myself,” Angie laughed. “A few months ago I tried to use the swamp water machine for my coffee. I had lily pads in my teeth for days.” While they were walking, Mariposa had become noticeably fixated on Star. Her dress, her hair, her hands, anything that was available to gawk at and grasp was fair game.

“She’s such a wonderful little tot, isn’t she?” Angie asked as they stepped into the cool air of Bonner Hall. She walked slowly towards her office while Star flitted around poking at every plant in the hallway.

“Yeah. So much calmer than Meteora. Remember the birthday incident?” Angie lightly chuckled in response; how could anyone not remember that? It wasn’t every day that a one year old just spontaneously grew a full head of hair and then got her tail hopelessly caught in it at another one year old’s birthday party.

Once they’d arrived at her office, she pulled out her key and opened the door to invite Star in. “Bienvenue! I’m teaching Intro to French Literature this semester, so I’ve got this whole theme going on.” Quotes and pictures of authors hung all around the room alongside some images of major landmarks and a little French flag sat on her desk next to a miniature statue of the Eiffel Tower. Angie helped Star unstrap Mariposa and set her down on the floor where she began waddling and crawling around.

Star sat on the edge of Angie’s desk kicking her feet back and forth, careful to avoid the toddler. “Soooooooo… what’s the plan for today?”

“You’re more than welcome to stick around but if office hours get too hectic it may get pretty cramped in here.” She’d have liked to do more with a larger space, but given how infrequently other community college faculty even got offices to themselves it was a blessing to even have this. “Although I have to teach later so you won’t be able to get back into this room if you leave after that.”

“Marco’s not free until, like, 6, so…” She trailed off dejectedly. The vibrant enthusiasm that Star normally exuded was still lacking. Hmm, this might be more serious than I thought.

Angie gently laid a hand on Star’s shoulder until those big blue eyes finally met her own. “Star, honey, it’ll be fine. I know it can be hard not being able to spend all your time with someone anymore.”

The headband on Star’s head shifted and almost fell off from how hard she was tugging and frazzling her own hair absentmindedly, “It’s not that… well, it’s not just that. Everyone else is starting their big life dreams now, you know? Marco wants to be a psycho therapist or something, Tom’s actually kinda happy about being a prince for once, and even Janna seems like she’s figuring it out in her weird Jannaniganish way! I have no idea what I want to do! Even went through a big ole’ list of ideas with Marco and they all just seemed blegh.” Star threw her hands up in frustration before curling back into herself more than before. “And I want to find something too, you know? Ugh, where’s Mr. Candle when you need him...”

The words resonated very strongly with Angie but it was difficult to put into words. She backed away from Star, her gaze darting around the room until she had a realization. “Have I ever told you the story about my summer in France?”

“Don’t think so.”

“When I was about your age, I wanted to get away for a while, so I packed up all my things and went to France for a whole summer. The food, the music, the history… everything was better there. For months after I came home I tried desperately to hold on to all of that after it was over, and I still cherish that experience, but it was just a fun handful of weeks that I spent someplace else and it was better that I just dealt with the fact that it was over. But,” she forcefully interjected when Star raised an eyebrow in protest at the seemingly antithetical point being made, “I know now that it’s not a universally ideal handling of such events. All the excitement of the last few years made me think about that… people might sort these things out for themselves in very different ways.”

“Like how Jackie literally spent a summer in France too, but she and Chlóe are still together long distance.”

“Mhmm, I could see that.”

“Or how Ponyhead started wearing a prosthetic tail for a while after staying with Seahorse’s family.”

“Hang on, what-”

“Don’t ask.” Never a dull moment.

“Or what about when-”

Alright, I’ll just have to get to the point myself. “I was mainly thinking about Marco, Star. I told him this same story before he left for Mewni, and honestly, I didn’t know how important it was to him. But he grew into such a confident and capable young man there and I couldn’t be prouder.” Angie softly took both of Star’s cheeks into her hands. “Star, you’re a wonderful, caring, smart young woman. So what if you’re not following every step at the same time as your friends? Everyone goes through these sorts of crises at some point or another, but what’s important is that you take the time to make the decision that’s right for you.” Star’s gaze sunk to the ground while the gears in her mind were so obviously turning that they might as well have been visible and Angie gave her some space in turn. “So, with all that said, what are you thinking now?”

Star crossed her arms and furrowed her brow. “Even if I’m not rushing to figure everything out, I don’t want to just do nothing until I magically find my lifelong dream. And I know Marco and I aren’t gonna literally live the same lives; heck, I don’t want to do all his school junk anyway, but… whatever I end up doing, I still want it to be together. That’s why I left for Earth,” she finished with her voice dropping to a solemn whisper.

“Didn’t he do the exact same thing? You don’t need me to tell you that you two are something absolutely special. I may not know what all is going through his head, what mother of a teenage boy does, but I know he’d do anything for you, Star.”

Nodding more to herself than to Angie, Star took a deep breath before speaking. “Thanks, Mrs. Diaz.”

“You can call me Angie, if you’d like. Or Angelica, or maybe ‘The Coolest Mom in Town.’ I’m not picky,” she said with a smirk.

After a short pause, Star hopped off the desk and wrapped Angie in a bear hug so deceptively strong that it knocked the wind out of her, but she still managed to reciprocate. “Thanks… Angie.” A rumbling sound interrupted the moment. “Heh, well, seems like I’m also thinking about lunch.”

“That’s an excellent idea. Why don’t we-” The digital clock on the desk caught her attention. “Dammit, office hours already started a few minutes ago. Don’t think I’ll have time for a while. But there’s plenty of places around here to eat, and a few of them are actually good!” she chuckled. Just as she mentally ran through some places in the student union, a thought struck her. “Say, Star… there’s a lot of clubs and events and such that are open to non-students too. Maybe it’d be worth looking into some of them? It’d be something to do, you and Marco would be closer, and I could even drive you some days if you needed. Why don’t you take Mariposa with you and explore for a while? She seems pretty restless today.”

Taking a few deep breaths to center herself, Star nodded her head. “Yeah, that’s a good idea! Heck, it’d be good just to know my way around for any time I visit Marco anyway.” She bent down and beckoned for Mariposa, who’d been ogling a bronze baguette for some time now. Once the carrier was locked and loaded with a docile toddler and some of her supplies once more, Star skipped out of the office. Angie’s time alone, however, was cut short when a student skidded in and immediately started nervously rambling about homework questions and grading policies and the works of François Villon. Back to teacher mode. Angie afforded herself one last glance through the door at her young daughter gleefully riding along with the girl who might as well be her other daughter. Rafael had mentioned to Angie on more than a few occasions that Star and Marco reminded him of themselves in their youth, and Angie had agreed at the time but now she wasn’t so sure. Her teenage - and even young adult - years with Rafael, while wonderful, had been filled with many bouts of uncertainty and it’d taken them many, many years to get it right once and for all.

But Star and Marco? As far as she was concerned, they already had.

***

Boring classroom… Boring classroom… Boring restroom… Hey, wait a minute, is that a cornshake machine? A few minutes, a few dollars, and one cornshake (plus a sippy kid size) later, Star found herself not much better than she’d been when she set off an hour ago, but the surprisingly high quality of the vended drink did bolster her spirits. She resisted the urge to call Marco because it’d be waaaay more fun to surprise him later. And also because he might still be in class, that too. A tall rock creature walked in front of her, interrupting her thoughts, and she saw a nervous expression on his face as he feebly tried not to disrupt foot traffic too much. Looking around, she was a bit surprised to see just how much the cultures of her own world had been brought to the forefront and blended in despite humans comprising the majority of people she’d seen on campus. Some people who she guessed were Mewmans by their dress glanced back for a bit longer than most but otherwise went about their day without a fuss. Two guys, one human and one Septarian, were laughing and holding hands on a bench. All in all the atmosphere reminded her of high school, but was freer in a way that didn’t discomfort her as much as she’d anticipated.

A few of the passersby looked her way as she wandered, and one or two even said hi to her - not that uncommon, given that it was public knowledge that she and Marco were responsible for the Cleaving, though Eclipsa had tactfully phrased it as a consequence of the two working together to destroy magic - but it was just as likely that Mariposa was the one attracting attention for a multitude of reasons. She knew she shouldn’t have expected it, but part of her was disappointed that after going through four whole bustling buildings she hadn’t run into Marco, or even anyone she knew. Glum and tired, she was about to abandon her pursuits when a huge bulletin board around the corner caught her eye. As she jogged over to it, her hopes came true: it was a giant wall advertising all the clubs and events on campus for the start of the year.

Her eyes roved the board up and down, left and right scanning for anything that seemed interesting or had some sort of meeting today. There were some fliers that Star dismissed right away, including a woodworking workshop series, a community choir, a sketchy-looking “how to date a demon” seminar. The last one might have at least been good for a laugh, but it had a note scribbled on it that attendance was maxed out already. She noted some sort of upcoming school dance for all local teens, but it was months away and the poster was uninspiring since the theme was still listed as TBD. It made sense that most extracurricular activities didn’t happen in the middle of a school day, but she still frowned at how few options seemed available and potentially interesting. Once she’d perused the entire wall and selected those that were, she set out on her mission to find her purpose.

“You ready, Mariposa?”

“Gool!”

Chess Club

“Rook to G3.” Star’s opponent, whose nametag said Fred, positioned the black castle piece ahead of most of his pack.

“King to-” Her tongue stuck out as she concentrated on the board layout instructions, trying to find her place. “King to E3!”

“Um, first of all, the king piece is not allowed to move more than one square at a time. Second, since it is the most important piece, the singular goal of the game is to keep yours alive while defeating the enemy’s. Therefore it is ludicrously ill-advised to position your king into such immediate danger, and in most cases would automatically lose you the match” Star’s opponent responded matter-of-factly.

Star scratched her head in puzzlement, replacing the piece. “Why is the king so slow? My dad was literally a king and he can run at highway speeds.”

“Perhaps the Mewman traditions are different, but the Earthly ways of the monarchy are enshrined in a-

“Alright, whatever. Then I have my Queen ride the horse into combat! No, wait, can it be a warnicorn instead?” She ripped off a corner of the scoring sheet and deftly curled it into a cone before placing it on the top of the plastic figure with a satisfied grin.

“Although an intriguing concept, there is no precedent in the ancient tradition of the sport for-” Mariposa interrupted her tirade by kicking the edge of the table, which knocked over Fred’s black king. See, now this was the sort of thing she could see herself getting into!

“Checkmate!” Star shouted with a wide grin, one decidedly not mirrored by her opponent or any of the onlookers.

Cornball Tryouts

“Well, Mariposa, that was a bust. But cornball is a Mewni thing, so I’m gonna super nail it this time!” Star set Mariposa down and removed her from the baby carrier. “Stay right here, you little angel,” she cooed before jogging over to the group of hopefuls discussing strategy. “Hiya everyone!”

One of the girls who resembled a fox waved in welcome. “Sup, I’m Bleck, I was the Monster Cornball League’s ace stickler for a few years.”

“And I’m Jason, I was Mewni Cornball Alliance’s forward maizeman.”

Star shook both their hands. Did something seem familiar about them? “I’m-”

“Star Butterfly, we know,” Bleck responded. “You set up that integrated game on Mewni. Sorry about that, by the way. We were the captains and it, um, kinda got out of hand.” Ah, so that’s why Star recognized them.

“Yeah, that was our bad.” Jason rubbed the back of his neck shamefully with one hand with his other on Bleck’s shoulder. “I’ll be honest, this whole ‘monsters and Mewmans and Earth Mewmans all together’ thing is still new to me, but don’t wanna let some petty grudges get in the way of some good old fashioned cornball. These Earthers are crazy competitive, we’ll need the best team we can to have a chance of even making regionals.

“Speaking of which,” another Mewman spoke up warily. “Does anyone know anything about that new teenage husker that already made captain? CB Nation says she’s already poised to be hotter than Jispy Jenkins.”

“I heard she’s the reason the Cassidy bros quit moat guarding.”

“Well I heard she averaged 50 shucks per game in her rookie season.”

A hush fell over the group; as much as Star loved the sport she never really followed it, but it was still clear just how good this mystery player was.

“I think that’s her…” one of the monsters said, pointing at a shadow emerging from the clubhouse. “Oh corn, hold me!” He fainted on the spot.

“Star? Star!!!!!!!!” It was hard to make out details against the glaring sunlight, but there was a webbed hand waving at her. Wait, was that-

“KATRINA!” Star dashed as fast as her legs could carry her to meet her friend who was doing the same. Katrina scooped her up in a big slimy hug. “You’re so big now!” The girl was now taller than Star, with a stocky build, but her big sparkly eyes still had every bit of youthful wonder that she remembered. Given how much of a powerhouse Buff Frog was, Star could only imagine the athletic potential his kids could have.

“Yeah, I’m starting ECCC this year! I got a full ride scholarship as team captain! Sorry I haven’t been talking to you as much lately… I’ve been so busy working towards this, it’s a dream come true!” Katrina set her down and glanced over towards the sidelines. “Is that Mariposa over there! Hi, baby! Wow, humans age really slowly. You and Marco better not take too long getting your own kid, Auntie Katrina still wants to still be spry enough to play with ‘em.”

Star’s face heated up. “I- Katrina, you- We aren’t-” She stammered incoherently. This was going to take some getting used to.

“C’mon, Star, I’m kiddiiiiiing. I’m already four, I’m not a kid anymore. Anyway, are you here for the team? That’s so cool! You’re always so great at everything, you’ll definitely make the team.” She finally turned to the rest of the attendees to begin the session. “Alright, welcome to the ECCC cornball tryouts, I’m really happy you’re all here! Let’s go over some logistics. Practice is five days a week in the evenings until the league begins on Dartuk 30. That’s the 26th of September for all the Earth people here. We’ll have two regular matches each week and will be travelling most weekends. If we want to show who the real cornballers are, I’m going to need your complete dedication to this squad! School’s important too, but otherwise this will be your life while you’re on my team, so let’s talk drills-”

With each passing sentence, Star’s anxiously fidgeted more and more. It was… intense, more than she’d ever expected. She was ecstatic that Katrina was finding so much success and joy doing this and felt her heart swell with pride as the crowd hooted and hollered in support, but was this really what she wanted most for herself? While Star was zoned out, Katrina had apparently wrapped up her speech and everyone else had already dispersed. Katrina took Star’s hands and shook them up and down excitedly. “Are you as pumped as I am?”

“Yeeeeeeaaaaaah…” Star hesitantly cheered, casting a nervous glance back at Mariposa who now was booping Star’s purse repeatedly with her nose. “About that…”

Driver’s Ed

Maybe I should just learn to drive so I can visit Marco myself, Star pouted. “I could get us a pair of matching cool car driver sunglasses, so we can be rad Earth style,” Star whispered to Mariposa while Miss Skullnick (who was apparently working at the college now, and was human again) finished going over her slides.

“And that’s the introduction for this seminar series on automobile safety. Any questions?”

Star raised her hand and Skullnick sighed heavily before calling on her. “Is there a way I can start driving next week?”

“Get out!”

***

“Today sucked,” Star gloomily groaned. She was curled up sideways on a bench in one of the open quads while Mariposa was using her stomach as a pillow for her late afternoon nap, tuckered out after a recent diaper change. “I mean, it was so cool to see Katrina again, and in a weird way I almost missed Skullzy too, but I’m still completely stuck. But hey, at least I got to spend a day with you.” Star gently stroked Mariposa’s soft brown hair. Now that she thought about it, getting to spend hours a day with the adorable tot was one of the only consistently rewarding parts of the past week, it seemed. Even Meteora’s shenanigans were heartwarming in their own way, namely one that involved way more property damage. Her eyelids drooped shut, heavy with the weight of everything on her mind.

She couldn’t have been out for more than a minute when a child’s voice startled her. “Hello? Are you sleeping?” Was that Mariposa? No, it couldn’t have been, her mind concluded as she exited her half-conscious delirium. A small monster child, no older than the human equivalent of four or five with some features of an elephant, tugged on the sleeve of her dress with tears in his eyes. “I’m scared.”

Star rubbed her eyes and gathered everything into one corner of the bench so she could make room for the child. “What’s wrong, little guy? I’m Star.”

“My- my name’s Trevor but Mom and Dad call me Trev. I was playing on the slides but then everyone was gone,” Trevor began sobbing pitifully.

“OK, it’s OK. Let’s take a deeeeeeep breath, OK? Like this.” She inhaled as much air as she could, puffing up her cheeks and chest before blowing all of it out with an exaggerated flair. The boy nodded and took a small breath. “Again!” Star repeated, and he followed, back and forth until he had calmed down and was grinning at her absurdly over-the-top routine. “Feeling better?”

“A little.”

“How about we play a game? I’ll say one word, and you say whatever word comes to your mind. Ready?” He sniffled once, but nodded.

“Candy.”

“Tasty.”

“Dancing.”

“Fun.”

“Snuffleupagus.”

He cracked up a bit at that and she grinned back at him. “Silly.”

“School.”

“Sad.”

“Why does that make you sad?”

“My brother’s busy at school here all day now, so he has daycare watch me instead. My group was at the playground and Felipe bet I couldn’t go on the big slide so I did but I got stuck and when I got out, everyone was gone.”

“You poor thing,” Star responded. “I know how you feel. Tell ya what, let’s go try to find them together!”

“Can- can we stay here?” Her heart broke at how obviously terrified he was of the situation and the prospect of any more unfamiliarity wasn’t something he was ready to deal with at all.

“For a little bit, but then we really should get you back to the daycare.”

“OK,” he said somberly. “Who’s that?” He pointed at Mariposa who was crawling in circles around the bench.

“Oh, this is Mariposa! She’s my boyfriend’s sister.”

“What’s a boyfriend?”

Of all the conversations Star thought she might have today, this was far from one of them. “It’s like… boyfriend and girlfriend are like what a mom and dad are before they become a mom and dad.”

“My Uncle Matt is Mom’s brother but Dad calls him brother too. Does that mean she’s your sister too?”

Star met Mariposa’s eyes for a moment. It was weird to think about, but… was Trevor even wrong? She’d been living with the Diazes for almost all of Mariposa’s life, after all. There wasn’t a clear definitive answer in Star’s mind, but she needed one to sate the boy’s unending curiosity. “Yeah, I guess she is.”

“Cool! My big brother’s awesome. I miss when we used to play all the time. You’re really cool, too.”

“Thanks. I know change can be scary, but I’m sure your brother misses you a lot too. Sometimes big kids and grown-ups have to do grown-up things for a while, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still love being your brother.”

A few voices echoed in the distance; once they were close enough for Star to make out the words, she realized they were calling Trevor’s name. “Over here!” she shouted back in their general direction. A large elephant monster with ripped jeans and ear piercings ran as fast as he could and gave Trevor a tight hug. “Hey, Trev, buddy, where’d you go? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“It’s OK, Star took care of me.” It came out muffled from how his face was still buried in his brother’s arms.

“Woah, wait- Star? Like, the Rebel Princess Star Butterfly?”

“That’s me. Or was me,” she shrugged.

“I was your biggest fan for years! Remember the cave hideout? Don’t think I introduced myself then, I’m Geoff.”

“Oooooh yeah, you were with the ‘alternative monsters’! How have you been?”

“Pretty dope. Once that wicked Cleaving thing happened, we found a bunch of humans just like us! Being alternative is just, like, normal now. They even sell clothes with all the holes in them already so you don’t have to do any work! It’s nice to just get to be myself now, and I don’t think I’d ever get to do that without everything you did. You’re the best, Star. And thanks for taking care of lil’ Trev here. C’mon, buddy, let’s get you home.”

Trevor hopped up on his brother’s shoulders for a piggy back ride and waved. “Bye, Star! Bye Mariposa!”

“You must be a miracle worker with the kids,” the human man who had run up with Geoff finally spoke up. He had a thick beard and glasses and wore a red flannel shirt and jeans. “I’m Antonio, by the way, I run the ECCC Child Care Center. We just call it the Six Cs.”

“Nice to meet you,” Star responded. “I just did what anyone would, really.”

“No, you definitely made Trevor’s week. He just joined on Monday and he cries almost all the time from missing his family. We see that a lot, but it’s definitely hitting him harder than most, going from being at home all the time to being with a bunch of strangers for hours a day.”

Star unconsciously turned away and rubbed her arm. “Yeah, I… I know the feeling.” She shook it off and turned back towards him. “So, what happened with Trevor?”

“One of the girls got a splinter on the playground. Everyone was busy trying to keep her calm when we left the playground that we skipped headcount. I called Geoff right away, he was very understanding. It’s no excuse, but we’re way too short on people right now with all the new students.” His attention suddenly pivoted to Mariposa who was reaching up to grab at the fabric of his shirt. “This is Angie Diaz’s kid, no? May I?”

“Yeah,” Star dumbfoundedly responded after a moment’s hesitation. “You know her?”

Antonio hefted Mariposa up like she weighed nothing and gently rocked Mariposa back and forth in his burly arms. “Her older son, Marco, used to come here every now and then. Heard through the grapevine not too long ago that she had another kid, I asked if she’d be coming to the Six Cs but she said she already had someone at home. I take it I’m talking to her?”

Star’s eyes widened. Angie had said that? She was the only one who didn’t have plans most days, so… it had to be her. “Marco’s my boyfriend. I was their foreign exchange student for a year, then he came to live with me on Mewni for a year, and then… well, you’ve probably heard about how the Cleaving happened.”

“Afraid not, I don’t keep up with the news much these days. I just try to take care of all the kiddos as best I can, doesn’t much matter to me what goes on with the world. So what brings you to this humble campus?”

“Well, Marco’s going to school here now and I don’t have much else to do, so... yeah.”

“Ah.” His deep voice was laden with sympathy, and with that one word Star felt like he immediately understood her turmoil. “Well, if you’re ever looking for something to do, we could use someone like you on the team.”

“Really?”

“You’ve clearly got a big heart and a keen eye for how to take care of the younguns, that’s more than enough in my eyes. This one’s been staring at you almost since we started talking, she clearly trusts you more than you may know.” Huh, he was right; even while being rocked gently into slumber, Mariposa’s warm brown gaze remained firmly on Star’s face. “Well, I should get back to the staff. No rush if you’re unsure, but you can come with me to meet the crew before they leave for the night if you want.” He set Mariposa back down on the bench while Star reassembled the baby carrier and got Mariposa settled back in.

Star couldn’t say she was any clearer now on a life goal, but maybe that wasn’t what she needed right now. Looking back on the day and week thus far, even the most exceptionally crummy day in recent memory could be salvaged by Mariposa alone, so why should she be worried about more of that? Though she hadn’t really thought of herself as Mariposa’s caretaker until just a few minutes ago, her breath hitched with pride at the notion.

When she finally answered Antonio’s question, it was the least unsure she’d felt in a while.

***

Done. Finally. Marco swiftly stuffed his assignments into the binder in his backpack and hustled out the door of the student union. Cramming all his homework into one day had drained him, but it was worth it so he and Star could have the whole weekend to themselves. He liked all the things about school that Star hated, sure, but his life had changed so much and so many times that he worried he wasn’t even cut out for it anymore. ‘B’ on the pop quiz, really Diaz? The rational part of his brain knew it was fine, but the Marco of old was disappointed. He’d aced the questions he’d studied with Star, at least, so maybe the Marco of old wasn’t the one to follow.

Nachos, ever the talented dragoncycle, had founded a part-time rideshare service in the town and was busy tonight, so Marco navigated his way to his mom’s office for a ride home. “Hey Mom, hey Star, h- wait, Star?”

“Marcomarcomarcomarcomarco!” Star excitedly leapt into his arms with a barrage of cheek kisses and a crushing embrace.

“Missed you too, Star,” he chuckled, kissing her on the forehead in return before backing away to take off his backpack and slump into a chair. “What are you doing here?”

She sat sideways in his lap, hooking her arms around his neck. “Surprising you, goofhead!”

He closed his eyes for a moment and drank in her affection, letting it wash away his fatigue. “Well, color me surprised. Really glad you’re here.”

“Long day? Did you defeat the quizzards?”

“Yeah, and for the third time, it was just a regular quiz and not evil mystical quizzards giving me riddles. Besides, don’t they have a game show now?”

“Totally, totally, totally… I knew that.”

“I just kinda miss you, Star. It hasn’t been the same going all day without seeing you. I guess the last few years have made me realize I don’t want to be wherever you aren’t.”

“So cheesy,” Star cooed while pinching his cheek. His mom and Star exchanged excited glances. “But don’t worry about that anymore, Diaz, because I’ll be here now too!”

“Hubbawha?” Marco blurted out.

“Star’s going to volunteer for the Six Cs and take care of Mariposa there.”

She stood up and walked over to Mariposa, poking her nose just as she came out of a nap. “Yep, and they said I can make a schedule around yours so we can dragonpool to school and have lunch together or whatever! Plus I get to spend time with my other favorite person in the whole wide world.”

Mariposa fully opened her eyes and stared vacantly at Star for a second before smiling wide. “Ta.”

Star stopped in her tracks. “Wait, is she saying-”

“Tar. Tar. Tar!” Mariposa bobbed up and down on the desk, clearly as overjoyed about her words as everyone else was. Tears welled up in Star’s sapphire eyes as she leaned down to gently snuggle Mariposa. Marco walked over to join her and caught his mom absolutely beaming with as much pride as he’d ever seen her have. The wholesome moment was interrupted as his little sister, not content to stop, kept rambling on. “Tar! Mago! Tago! Tago!”

“Not you too!” Star sputtered out, still choked with emotion, and Marco couldn’t help but laugh.

And later that evening, after the four had gotten dinner and piled into the Diaz van for the trip home, Marco looked over to see that Star had fallen asleep on the other side of Mariposa’s carseat. He took her hand in his, yawning as he realized a nap wasn’t such a bad idea. Just before succumbing to the day, he swore he heard a soft, squeaky murmuring from the toddler next to him.

“Sihtah.”

[kae-karo]

Hi can you write 13 and 21 please sry if I ask for too much :)

for context (x - make me write things!)

oh my gosh first of all please do not feel like u have to apologize i love any opportunity to write my fave ships and this was no different also i just need to say ur icon and header are amajiki and kiri two of the best Best Boyes on the entire show i literally love them and would die for them

anyway! thank u so much and i hope u enjoy and don’t mind that i put these as two separate lil prompts

13. “Look, I know you’re a hardass, but can you play with my hair? It would really help.” - hawks - [read on ao3] - this is loosely based on the idea of hawks having bird-like qualities, specifically raptor stress grip (x) but also the idea that he likes being preened 

21. “This might sound selfish, but I don’t care about the world - I only care about you!” - villain!denki - [read on ao3] - go read this (x) first cause i feel like this suits a part 2

–

13 - [read on ao3]

Hawks’ grip on his arm is something unusual - not quite strong enough to be classed as painful, but strong nonetheless. Any harder and it might border on the feeling of his father dragging him around as a child, his hand so tight it threatened to snap his arm. But this falls short of that, and Dabi’s grateful.

He’d rather that anything associated with Hawks be positive, or at least not remind him of his past.

“You’re sure it’s fine?” Hawks asks for the twelfth time in the past ten minutes. Dabi huffs out a breath of laughter.

“Yes, it’s totally fine,” he reassures Hawks yet again. He’s only ever done this to Dabi once before, but it already feels strangely comforting to know that, in some way, he chose to seek out Dabi when he’d become overwhelmed.

It’s a stress thing - something to do with his quirk, Hawks told him - and Dabi wonders if he should really be appreciative of something that’s a source of unease for Hawks. Not that he knows what exactly happened, but he assumes if it were important, Hawks would’ve told him by now.

Maybe it’s selfish, but he kind of hopes Hawks continues to stay stressed out. Dabi’s not used to having him this close for however long it takes him to calm down, but he’s starting to enjoy the company.

Dabi watches patiently as Hawks’ gaze flicks around the empty room - Dabi’s room, where he’d been going through some profiles for other potential recruits before Hawks had burst in. The last time this had happened, it’d only lasted for maybe fifteen minutes, which means his time with Hawks is likely running out.

Although Hawks doesn’t look any less stressed than when he’d rushed in, not that Dabi’s complaining.

“You should, uh…” Hawks nods at Dabi’s papers. “I didn’t mean to take you away from whatever you were doing.” Dabi shakes his head.

“You didn’t interrupt, it can wait.” Dabi can wait, he could wait an eternity with Hawks clinging to him like this. Hawks’ fingers tighten on Dabi’s arm just slightly.

“No, that’s-” He shakes his head. “It’s really not helping, worrying that I’m keeping you from doing stuff.” Hawks’ voice is relatively even, but his eyes never stop wandering the room, and Dabi’s starting to wonder if this is going to last a bit longer than the first time. He crushes down the little spark in his chest that says he hopes it does.

Hawks is clearly still stressed, and Dabi shouldn’t be taking advantage of that. No matter how it makes him feel to have Hawks so close.

So he picks up a paper, the one he’d been looking at before Hawks barrelled in and plopped down beside him on his bed, and scans it superficially.

At first, it’s truly just with the intent of appeasing Hawks’ nerves and pretending he’s focused on his work instead of the warm grip of Hawks’ hands on his arm, but it soon becomes a genuine effort. He’s pretty sure he’s the only one in the League actively searching for potential new recruits, and he’ll be damned if this whole thing falls apart while Shigaraki is away. Not that he had officially dubbed Dabi his replacement, but Dabi’s pretty sure it was implied.

Besides, nobody else is really fit to take up the mantle.

So he loses himself in the various pages he’d printed - his eyes started hurting from staring too long at a computer screen - and searches with intent for the right qualities that might make another useful member of the team. Or pawn, depending on what they bring to the table.

With his eyes buried in endless pages, it takes him nearly an hour to realize Hawks’ head has slowly drifted to rest on his shoulder. In fact, it takes Hawks huffing out a breath that might be laughter for Dabi to notice this new position, and he has to reign in the sudden racing of his heart to prevent it from scaring Hawks away.

But his hands haven’t moved from their spot on Dabi’s arm, and Dabi lets his gaze drift to the tufts of hair tickling his neck.

“You really think that kid’s going to be of any use?” Hawks says, his tone light and humorous but more than obviously forced. Whatever’s going on in his head, his it’s clear that his concerns haven’t subsided. Dabi’s starting to wonder if he should be asking about what happened, why he’s so stressed all of a sudden.

“I think he has potential.” Dabi rearranges the pile of papers he’d just set this profile down on top of. “Why, you don’t?” He hadn’t said a word about what he was doing, but Hawks must live up to his name - he must have incredible observation skills to notice how Dabi has been organizing these people, to recognize which pile was for the ones he deemed useful.

“Your criteria are too superficial.” Hawks’ head shifts on Dabi’s shoulder, but he doesn’t lift it. “Powerful quirks, high-up connections, anger management issues? It’s too broad, they won’t hold together in the long run.” Now it’s Dabi’s turn to blow out a breath.

“For someone who got recruited by me, I feel like you’re not really in any position to judge,” Dabi says. He’s pretty sure his tone contained enough sarcasm to warrant a laugh, but Hawks’ hands just tighten on his arm. 

As much as he’s enjoying Hawks’ company, he’s not sure it’s healthy for him to be on edge for this long. He shifts and picks up another paper, but he’s not really reading it.

“What do you normally do?” Dabi asks, trying to keep his voice soft. He was always terrified of his father’s yelling, to the point that even hearing him talk too loudly would kick his panic up a notch. 

“What- what, for recruiting? I don’t really do that, I mean I guess I do for the agency, but not-”

“No, no,” Dabi interrupts Hawks’ rambling. He does his best not to smile at the reaction - Hawks is stressed, it’s not something he should be considering cute.

“When this happens,” Dabi gestures to his arm and Hawks’ hands clinging there, “what do you do?” Hawks exhales a breath and a soft ‘oh’.

“I don’t, um…” he trails off, and Dabi waits patiently, his silly hopes fluttering in his chest. He’s not usually one for hugs, but if Hawks is gearing up to ask for one, he might be willing to make an exception. 

“I’m not usually around anyone I can trust.” 

Now it’s Dabi’s turn to let out an equally soft ‘oh’. Hawks trusts him? Trusts him, of all people? A villain, someone who could set him on fire with a single touch? He trusts Dabi in spite of that?

“Okay…” Dabi fumbles for words in the silence, not daring to look over at where Hawks is still resting on his shoulder. He can’t tell if the air has suddenly become thicker, coating his tongue and throat and lungs and making it impossible to breathe, or if he’s just overreacting.

“Is it…normal for it to last this long?” Hawks trusts him, and he should trust that Hawks would say something if this was unusual, but it doesn’t stop his concerns from bubbling over and falling from his lips. 

Hawks stiffens and clears his throat.

“Sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t think it would, I’d stop if I could, I just-”

“No, that’s not-” Dabi sighs. “Is…is there anything I can do to help?” He’s not trying to get Hawks to leave, but it’s clear this whole thing is only continuing to stress him out. Not that Dabi has any clue what got him to this state in the first place, but if he can help him calm down, maybe he can find out.

Hawks shifts beside him, and he sucks in a breath. Dabi expects he’ll release it along with a suggestion for how Dabi can help, but he just exhales. So Dabi waits a few more seconds, then a few more after that, until it’s most definitely been too long.

“Well?” Dabi tries again. Hawks sighs, and his hands tighten on Dabi’s arm. Dabi can’t imagine how on earth trying to calm him down would somehow stress him out more, but-

“Look, I know you’re a hardass…” Dabi freezes - is that what Hawks thinks of him? Hawks takes a deep breath, and his voice barely comes out above a whisper. “But can you play with my hair? It would…really help.” 

Hawks goes still, totally and completely still, as if his own words have startled him, and Dabi stares hard at the paper in his hand. It’s all a blur of black and white, letters that don’t turn into words but mix around on the page and blend together into all shades of gray. Hawks wants…he wants Dabi to touch him? 

Just his hair, just to help him calm down, Dabi reminds himself. This isn’t anything, it doesn’t mean anything. He tamps down on the voice in the back of his head that says Hawks trusts him. That doesn’t mean anything either.

With as much care as he can manage in spite of his sudden nerves, Dabi lifts his hand to the mess of hair on his shoulder. Hawks doesn’t move, doesn’t shout out a last minute ‘wait, stop!’, doesn’t pull himself away, and Dabi lets his fingers comb gently through the wild locks. 

Hawks’ breath slows almost immediately, and Dabi wishes desperately that he could see Hawks’ face right now. Not that he needs much reassurance that this is truly helping Hawks - the grip on his arm loosens, and Hawks leans into his shoulder. A rustling sounds behind Dabi’s head, but it’s not til the expanse of a wing flops into view that he realizes Hawks must’ve let them droop to the bed. 

Dabi holds his tongue, afraid to ruin whatever’s happening, afraid to set Hawks on edge again when he clearly needs to relax, but questions buzz inside his head and demand to make an appearance.

“That’s helping?” he asks first, and his lip curls up in an admittedly self-satisfied smile when Hawks nods into the crook of Dabi’s neck. 

It’s soothing, both the repetitiveness of his hand in Hawks’ hair and the comforting warmth of Hawks leaning further and further into him, and the warmth spreads through his body and up to his brain, encasing it in a pleasant fog. He’s vaguely aware he’d wanted to ask something else, or maybe several somethings, but they’re lost behind a veil of comfort.

Before he can stop himself, Dabi leans back toward his pillow, gently pulling Hawks with him. His brain isn’t exactly capable of coherent thought right now, but he’d like to imagine it’d tell him what a great thing he’s doing, how this is definitely helping Hawks.

And he’s pretty sure he’d be right.

Hawks’s grip doesn’t release from his arm, but it’s loose enough now that he manages to comfortably curl himself against Dabi’s side, and his head lands on Dabi’s chest. 

Dabi’s eyes drift shut of their own accord, and he doesn’t even bother with the excuse to himself that he’s just resting them. He’s warm and Hawks is here and everything else is drifting into the background so what else even matters? 

“Thank you,” Hawks mumbles into his shirt, and Dabi’s chest feels like it’s exploding. But the pretty kind of explosion, like art. He feels like artwork, with Hawks pressed against him, like something far more than himself.

“Anything for you, little bird.”

———————————————

21 - [read on ao3]

“You asshole!” Denki screams, and the wooden chair creaks as he struggles against the bindings. Hitoshi dips his head.

“We need to know what you know,” Aizawa says again. Denki coughs out a bitter laugh.

“I don’t know anything, I’ve never known anything, and there’s nothing you could do to me that would matter anyway.” His words cut like ice - he’d said that once before, before all this had happened.

“I swear I don’t know anything, can you tutor me, Shinsou?” And god, Hitoshi had fallen for it. Fallen for everything Denki said.

Fallen for Denki.

“I thought we were saving Kirishima!” Denki shouts again, and Hitoshi is grateful for the soundproofed room they’re in. Aizawa has some weird resources, but he supposes they’re useful.

“We did,” Hitoshi argues.

“And then you brainwashed me.” He’s never heard Denki like this, his tone so acidic it rivals Mina’s quirk. Hitoshi’s head hurts as it tries to reconcile everything - Denki’s betrayal with his prior kindness, Hitoshi’s own promises to never do something like that to a friend with the question of whether Denki ever was a friend.

Friends don’t betray friends.

“We need information,” Aizawa butts in, straightforward as ever. “There are lives on the line.”

“There are always lives on the line, why does it suddenly matter so damn much?” Hitoshi turns away - the Denki he knows would care, at least a little. He wanted to be a hero, what the hell happened?

“Man, I swear I have to get way better with my quirk or I’ll never be a real hero!” Hitoshi had laughed at that, at the idea that Denki would be anything other than exactly who he wanted to be. Hitoshi always found himself laughing around Denki.

“Why- why does it matter?” Aizawa’s clearly losing his patience. Hitoshi inhales a few deep breaths, trying to keep himself calm. But how the hell is he supposed to be calm when his best friend turned on him? On the entire school?

How was he so easily fooled?

“Shinsou, please, keep an eye on him,” Aizawa grumbles, brushing past Hitoshi and out the door. “I need a minute.”

Hitoshi doesn’t want to turn around. He doesn’t want to see those bright yellow eyes turned hard and brutal against him. He would rather remember the way his mouth opened a little too wide when he laughed, the way he hung around Hitoshi even when he didn’t think he wanted the company, the way he could quote Shakespeare word for word then turn around and ask Hitoshi if birds could see the same colors as people.

“You’re no better than I am,” Denki hisses at Hitoshi’s back, and the words creep up Hitoshi’s spine and worm their way into his ears. He wishes he could pull them out, throw them to the ground and squish them under his feet.

“You betrayed me, and I betrayed you, so we’re even now,” Hitoshi says to the wall. Denki coughs out a laugh.

“Perfect, you can let me out of here, then.”

“Not until you tell us who you’re working for, who your contacts are.” Maybe Hitoshi’s been spending too much time with Aizawa, but his mentor is right, there are lives at stake, and Denki might have the intel that could help save them.

“I don’t know,” Denki says again, “what the hell do I have to say to get you to believe me?” 

“I did believe you,” Hitoshi says, though he wishes he hadn’t. His tongue refuses to stop now that it’s started, though, and all the damn emotions he’s been holding back come spilling from his lips.

“I believed you wanted to be a hero, I believed you wanted to help. I believed you were my friend.” He does turn around now, and he almost regrets it - Denki’s staring back, eyes wide and lips parted like he might be about to argue that point. Hitoshi wishes he would, wishes he would say something and make Hitoshi believe it.

But nothing comes out, only an aching silence that makes Hitoshi want to scream, but he doesn’t. He won’t lose himself in front of Denki, not when he’s taken everything else. No, Hitoshi can hold onto his anger. That’d been a gift from Denki, after all.

“I believed you loved classic literature and didn’t understand geometry and liked pranking the other students and wanted to control your quirk and I believed you cared.” Hitoshi’s out of breath now, but the lack of oxygen only fuels him. He lifts his voice modulator.

“I like you, Shinsou,” he says in Denki’s voice, and Denki’s eyes drop to the ground. Hitoshi lowers the modulator. “I believed it when you said that, too. And look where that got me.” His hand clenches in a fist at his side and tears prick at the back of his eyes.

“I could kill you right now,” Denki says, his voice so low that Hitoshi almost doesn’t hear him. As soon as he does, though, he wishes he hadn’t. “Electrocute you and Aizawa and find a way to get free once you’re dead.”

“Do it, then. What’s stopping you?” Hitoshi grits his teeth to keep his lip from trembling. Denki would kill them. Kill him.

“I don’t…want to.” He sounds so resigned, and Hitoshi blows out a shaky breath.

“That’s reassuring,” he says, hoping the dark humor will help dispel some of the ache in his chest. It doesn’t, but Denki laughs, a real laugh, and Hitoshi’s breath comes in a little easier this time. 

Maybe, somewhere in the depths of his imagination, he can pretend Denki’s going to break down and tell them it was all a ruse, just a clever manipulation and he’s really one of the good guys, he really is a hero. And maybe there’s absolutely no reason Hitoshi could even begin to justify that hope inside his head, but it refuses to leave him alone.

“This was never…it was never about UA, or class 1A or Aizawa or any of them,” Denki says, and Hitoshi looks up to find him staring at his shoes. “It wasn’t even about you, not at first.” Hitoshi stops himself from interrupting - information, that’s what they need. That’s what he did this for, to save people. He can still be a hero, even if he couldn’t save-

No, he won’t give up on Denki yet. He can’t, it would break something inside him to do that.

“Why, then? Why all of this?” He waves a hand in Denki’s direction. Were we not enough to change you? Was I not enough? He can’t ask that, though. He can’t even begin to consider hearing Denki say that he wasn’t.

“I had to keep myself safe, keep my family safe,” Denki says to the floor. The chair creaks as he leans forward, his hair falling to block his face. “I thought…I thought I wouldn’t care.”

Hitoshi stills at the words. Did he care, then? 

“I thought…it’d be easy to do whatever was asked of me - and no, I don’t know who it was, the whole thing was anonymous.” Denki’s staring hard at him now, but Hitoshi can’t come up with any words. “I didn’t think-” he pauses, then his gaze softens. “I wasn’t there to make friends.”

Hitoshi blows out a breath - the same thing he’d said to Denki from day one.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.” He means it as a joke, almost. Almost, except for the gaping hole left in his chest after Denki’s betrayal. Almost, except for the memory of raucous laughter turning soft as Denki leaned closer to Hitoshi. Almost, except that Hitoshi had been willing to hand his heart over. Almost, except Denki had run away and left it broken.

“I thought I could protect you too,” Denki says, and he sounds almost as shattered as Hitoshi feels. “They said they’d keep you safe, and I believed them.” Hitoshi squeezes his eyes shut, desperately fighting back the wave of tears that threaten to overwhelm him.

It takes several moments too long, but he manages to shove them back down, and he takes a deep breath as he opens his eyes. Denki’s still staring at his feet, and Hitoshi wants nothing more than to lift his chin, to tell him things will turn out okay in the end. That he doesn’t need to worry, Hitoshi is a hero and he’ll keep Denki safe now.

But it’s Denki’s fault they’re in this mess. A real hero would see that, wouldn’t they?

“You put the entire world at risk to keep me safe?” He hopes his tone comes off angry - hell, he should’ve just switched on his modulator and flipped to Bakugou’s voice. That’d have done better than letting his own words betray how hurt he is right now.

Denki just blows out a breath of bitter laughter.

“I know this might sound selfish,” he shakes his head and lifts it just enough to catch Hitoshi’s eye, “unheroic, even, but I don’t care about the world.” Hitoshi clenches his jaw. “I only care about you, Hitoshi, I just wanted to keep you safe.” He shakes his head, leaning back in the chair. “You have no idea what’s coming.”

Hitoshi does his best to ignore everything Denki’s saying, everything that isn’t useful. Emotions aren’t useful, not right now.

“What’s coming, then? What do we need to protect ourselves from?” He takes a few steps closer, hoping it comes across as intimidating.

“I don’t know, they won’t tell me, but it’s big, Hitoshi…” He exhales a slow breath, and Hitoshi watches the line of his throat as he swallows. “I don’t know if we’ll make it.”

Hitoshi startles at the tears pooling in Denki’s eyes - he’s never been one to cry, as far as Hitoshi’s ever known, but that alone is enough to set his heart racing. Something big, something Denki’s not sure they’ll survive…

“We just gotta stick together and we’ll be fine!” Hitoshi says into his modulator, and it comes out as Denki’s voice - sure, they had just been training, it was just practice, there wasn’t a real threat like there is now, but those words had helped him then and maybe they can help Denki now.

Maybe he can still figure this out, maybe he can still bring Denki back to the right side. Maybe it’s not that Denki doesn’t care, but that he cared far too much. And maybe Hitoshi cares far too much, too.

[hallie-fics]

author spotlight - still_i_fall

He wants to forget how it felt to be hers for just one second.

- remember it’s all pretend @in-my-head-i-do-everything-right

one of the most prolific writers in the hallie fandom, @in-my-head-i-do-everything-right (still_i_fall) has graced us with classic after classic. i had an absolute blast talking with her, and hope you all enjoy the interview!

q&a

Hey! Thanks again for including me in this! Very excited to answer the questions. I love talking about myself. 

Favorite of your stories (and why)

I almost got stuck on this question. I really want to say remember it’s all pretend because I am so incredibly proud of that one. It was the first multi chapter fic that I ever properly finished and I feel like that really means something to me. I also really love that concept, and how it was able to fit in slowburn and enemies to friends to lovers and mutual pining plus a million other little tropes. And, most of all, it was really fun to write. It happened really easily. It’s something I’ll go back to sometimes if I’m ever in the mood to reread my own work. 

But I also love this new thing that I just wrote called i just wanna dance with you. I think if I can pull it off, it could be something really amazing. I was able to write the first chapter in about a week and had a ton of fun doing it. And I really love writing Harry’s pov and just switching things up a little. Ugh, I really love the idea of hallie meeting/knowing each other as little kids and I think that’s pretty apparent in these two fics. 

Easiest story to write

I’ll stop the world (and melt with you) happened really quickly which I guess qualifies it as easy to write. I thought it’d be more difficult just because so much of it is dependent on canon which is something I’m not entirely used to, but it ended up going to fast. I think somewhere I still have a page of notes on that Prom episode and everything that happens to Allie and Harry. I really wanted to include pieces of dialogue from the show. 

I also think it was because I used to do this thing when I was bored where I’d think about who I’d want to be trapped in a Groundhog day like loop with and what’d I’d do. It was just this recurring thought/ daydream I had when I was younger so it’s definitely a situation that I’ve thought through a little. 

Hardest story to write

The taste, the touch, the way we love has been a pain in the ass to write right from the start. Sometimes it’s really fun, but I think I’ve been sticking way too close to the outline I drew at the very start and have been avoiding writing it for too long. Sometimes I absolutely love to write it and have the time of my life, and other times I hate it. There’s not much of an in between. Still definitely want to finish it. Just waiting on that final bit of inspiration. 

Pre-writing process

I’m all about doing a full outline. Usually. With most longer fics (anything I think will be over 6,000 words), I do a full outline where I plan out the progression of the fic and specific scenes and pieces of dialogue. Usually, the plot hits me all at once and is usually the easiest part of the writing process for me. From that original outline, I usually have at least a few specific scenes fully planned out with pieces of dialogue and/or exposition. For example, for i’ll stop the world I started out the planning process with the introduction piece of the fic. That first paragraph is straight out of the note apps on my phone. A lot of the time it’ll end up being a bullet point list of main bits. I’ll use parentheses to specify the tone of a scene or little details and then use brackets for things that I want verbatim in the fic. 

But sometimes I end up with very little pre-planning. The skating au is kinda the only good example of this. I only had the roughest of outlines for that one (how i wanted the first chapter to start and end) and everything else just came together as I tried to get from point A to point B. 

What drew you to Hallie

The potential. They could have a really great story and I think that’s fun. There’s a lot of chemistry there and their dynamic is fun and, yeah, I think I’m a little too far in to get out now.

Favorite line (or lines)/ section you’re proud of

God, I have so many. Hope you don’t mind me going through them. It’s incredibly self indulgent but also gives me an excuse to go through my old works.

From the very first hallie fic I ever wrote, how you wish it would be all the time:

“And Harry's not perfect. He's not what she wanted before this all started or even really after, but everything's different now.”

Sometimes I forget about this fic, but I really shouldn’t cause there is a solid chance that this was my peak. And this line is really fun. 

From we kiss and we keep busy:

“The stars may have moved a little bit, but they’re still there, and they still look the same, and that’s good enough for her.”

I promise I’m not going through every hallie fic I’ve ever written but god I love this line. 

From i saved a picture where your hair was braided:

“It’s late nights and long talks and video games and cookie dough. It’s almost kisses, then definite kisses, and then not wanting to wake up anywhere but his bed. That’s how she starts to fall in love with Harry Bingham.”

Just that last part. That last line. The rest is just there for some fun context. Fun fact: this entire little mini fic was a desperate attempt to stave off writer's block and is based entirely around that single line in the song Donna by the lumineers. Still had a lot of fun with it, though.

From remember it’s all pretend:

“He wonders when she’ll realise that this hasn’t been pretend for him in years.    Probably never.    (He’d still run away with her.)”

“In the back of her mind, Allie wonders why she didn’t try harder to stay with Harry, why now she can only seem to fall in love in front of a camera where there’s the promise of pretend.”

“She likes to think that they’re still friends, that they’re just friends who don’t talk anymore, two people who drifted because one couldn’t handle the idea of change.”

This fic has a million little bits that I love. I could literally go on forever. It’s just full of that mutual pining angst that I live for. 

From but i close my eyes and i’m somewhere else:

“She did not mention this earlier because she was trying desperately hard to ignore it, but fuck, she’s really missed him calling her Pressman.”

“She wonders if Cassandra has any travel sized neck pillows.”

This fic is surprisingly good seeing as I don’t remember writing it at all. I was very much high on some sort of flu medication while writing this and I think that explains a lot about this fic. It’s fun, though. I really love the tone.

From the taste, the touch, the way we love:

“She starts to feel like she couldn’t avoid Harry if she wanted to (and somehow, as the days turn into weeks, she finds herself not wanting to more and more).”

“There’s saltwater in her eyes, hair, and mouth. Harry’s leaning back in it, floating. She is too. The water is blue, and warm, and the sky is clear. Sometimes his hand will grab hers just to pull her closer. When she thinks of calm, of happiness, and vacation, she’ll think of this moment.”

“They’re quiet for a moment. Maggie Rogers can be heard in the background, faded and slow. Harry’s tapping his fingers along to it on the wheel, eyes staring straight ahead. The road is lined with trees, and it all feels like home.”

“For a half a second, she thinks she loves him. She pushes that away and watches him throw wrapping paper behind him dramatically. She pushes it away and she smiles and she laughs and she tries not to think too hard about what all of this means.”

This fic definitely has its moments. I’m really excited to get the last part done and out, though. I just feel like I’ve spent too long on this fic. I want it done.

From i just wanna dance with you:

“Allie met Harry the same day Cassandra did. It was early in the morning and she was four and now, when she looks back, all she can remember from the moment is the vague outline of wild hair and a smile so bright and wide and carefree that it really can’t be anyone else’s.”

“She tries to remember that she likes skating with Will, that there’s no point in wondering what it’d be like if things were just a little bit different.”

“She lied earlier; gold, silver, bronze, doesn’t matter. Harry always looks good.”

“The first time he ever placed first in a competition, she was skating with him. He wonders how long he’ll associate the feeling of a gold medal around his neck with her hand in his. He hopes it’s not long. “

I’m so excited to finish this fic like you guys don’t even understand. It’s really fun and it feels easy to write (so far; knock on wood) and I love the concept. 

What type of Hallie stories do you like to write/read?

I only write au’s just because I think the rules are little different, everything’s just a little bit more relaxed. You’re allowed so much freedom when it’s a completely different universe and I really love that. I went through a phase recently where I was obsessed with canon divergence and this whole idea of a history of contingency. Just there being these points or moments where if one thing was just a little different, everything would’ve changed. I love that and I think that’s really apparent in my drafts/ unreleased wips. 

I’ll read anything, though. Especially with the Hallie ao3 page being so small. I do definitely have a preference still towards au’s, though.

How long have you been writing

For forever. As a kid, I’d fill up entire notebooks with story ideas. It was my favorite thing to do. When I was twelve, a teacher complimented my writing, and I think that really stuck with me. It’s just something I’ve always enjoyed doing. 

Do you ever worry about how your stories are received

Not really. A little bit with multi chapter stories just because I really want every chapter to be better than the last. I just really don’t want to disappoint anyone. 

What’s the hardest part of writing for you

The middle bits. I usually have a very clear idea of the beginning and end so it’s everything in between that I have trouble with. I think that’s why I’m so big on outlining.

Do you ever get writer's block and how do you deal with it

Oh my god all the fucking time! Right now, for example. Usually, I just try to work through it, especially if I have a project in progress. I also do a lot of reading to try to force some sort of inspiration. A lot of what I write is based on what I’m reading. I’ll also listen to music. And, recently, I’ve been making mood boards for my fics which has been so much fun. I really like looking at pretty pictures.

Biggest risk you’ve taken as a writer

Lol I don’t really take risks. I think the riskiest thing I do is post the first chapter of a story with none of the second chapter started. I do that a lot. 

Favorite Hallie trope

Reluctant friends to very good friends to lovers. Also, living together without establishing a clear relationship. I write that a lot. Mutual pining is always fun too. 

Favorite Hallie headcanon

That Harry calls Allie ‘Pressman’ which forces Allie to call him ‘Bingham’. I just think there’s something so fun about calling someone by their last name. Plus, then you get that moment when the first name is used and that gets to be significant. Oh, also that they both swear like sailors, but that’s mostly self-insert on my part.

This felt very self indulgent, but I hope it was at least somewhat enjoyable for someone. 

I am forever waiting to read whatever @in-my-head-i-do-everything-right writes next. It was great to see some of the behind the scenes and I would definitely recommend her latest release cities you’ll never see on screen.

[artificialqueens]

she loves me! (multi) — chapter one - roza

[ summary ] : new parfumerie employee sasha velour has been transferred from her old russian company into a budapest shop. beginning to be at odds with shea couleé despite working with each other: they are unaware that each is the other's secret pen pal met through lonely-hearts ads. ( au for the musical "she loves me" )

[ author's note ] : I began writing this months ago and deleted it but I revisited it, due to me being in the actual musical (we open tomorrow holy shit!) and wanting much more of a comfort au, also I want more sashea! this musical is set in the 1930's so ofc I'll change some of the stuff and clothing around for certain characters but this musical is beautiful and deserves to be told in its entirety and it's one of the few musicals set in my central/eastern europe so as a slav I'll exploit the shit out of that. so much love to citrus, grey and saiph for being amazing beta's !!! xx — lily.

AO3 / My Tumblr / (人*´∀｀)｡*ﾟ+

— *.✧

The Summer of 1932 was officially dwindling down to a close.

Well— it was what Divina had noted when her heels hit the ground of the sidewalk, looking out for any stray motorcycles and passing cars. Her red hair cascaded down the ends of her shoulders as some loose strands became tucked into her beige coat.

The first few bundles of leaves had fallen from the Hungarian Oak tree beneath Divina's feet. Though native to Great Britain, she had moved to Budapest as a teenager. Pursuing her studies and wanting to escape from the economic sanctions (which had now become a worldwide depression). Hungary was beautiful, it was quiet, it was full of interesting people and architecture and yet she stood in her coat, holding an entirely Hungarian newspaper between her fingertips walking to the door of her current job.

Almost time for autumn!

She was immediately met with an obnoxiously loud honk from an incoming bicycle, she laughed aloud and clasped her hands together immediately knowing it would be Aquaria Coady , the utter prideful future of the perfurmie.

Luckily enough to have inherited the last name (though she was born a Palandrani ) the name of the damn shop: Coady's, she was Mrs. Coady or Sharon's only true "child" for lack of a better term. She was truly just her legally and informally adopted child who she met on the street, looking for a job and a place to stay. It was a wonderful story, but Divina always felt that small twinge of jealousy knowing she could've just played up her own act more for an easier start to the job. It was a rocky economy and Aquaria was definitely lucky to have a job even if her dream was to be a formal clerk and not a delivery girl.

"Good morning."

"Good day!" Divina chirped, glancing aimlessly through the newspaper attempting to find even a speck of interesting news that didn't involve international affairs or the crippling economic debt. "How are you today? It's a beautiful morning." The platinum blonde said as the redhead could only grin out of the corner of her lips, it indeed was quite an unusually perfect morning weather wise.

A nice breeze but not too cold, the sun was bright enough for a picnic but definitely not enough of a heatwave to burn their skin as it did some of those early Summer afternoons.

"Very, now that you mention it. I see you've dressed all nice as usual." A laugh left her throat, lips pressing together, intrigued by how formal she had always appeared. "That's an awfully elegant outfit for a perfume shop."

Aquaria rolled her eyes and adjusted the hairs  that hid behind her ear, "And why not? I represent my family, technically, I might as well look twice as good as you all do in your dress code." Divina cackled. She had to admit that all the color clashes weren’t exactly the most pleasing, she would've preferred company outfits but no— guess she had freedom of expression and had to use it.

Thank heavens the shop is beautiful and can distract these damn customers a good bunch.

"How many people have you run over today?"

The blonde shook her head and nervously gripped her own wrists, adjusting her jewelry, "Not one!" Yelling as she parked her bike before Divina shrugged, flipping a page in the newspaper.

"Well, it's early."

Aquaria tapped Divina on the back as their eyes met, the older Brit a bit confused by her antics before she began to whisper, "Here comes Ms. Zamolodchikova." The blonde walked calmly across the other side of the street before she joined the other two employees, wearing a cream colored dress with a mix of pink and beige floral patterns seeping through the design. There was a slight slit cut in the leg area: Katya always said, as a former dancer and a master of her own flexibility, she was beyond proud to show off her legs whenever she could.

"She spent the night with Ms. Honard again." Divina, unsurprised, could only sigh, not wanting to know exactly how she managed to find that one out. "You know, they always kiss at the newsstand and then she makes her way around another block so we think she's actually going home." Aquaria butted in, closing Divina's newspaper and holding her position of poise though her shoes tapped against the ground.

Swinging around her purse she grinned, looking completely entranced by the gorgeously clear skies. "Good morning!" The Russian called out to the lonesome girls who quickly looked up as if they hadn't just been gossiping about her confusingly puzzled love life.

"Good day!" They both replied instantaneously to the perfectly prim and proper looking woman.

Katya was quite the sweet girl when she wasn't busy being a mischievous "whore" as she liked to put it: she didn't even hide her affair with one of their fellow employees, it was all out in the open for everyone to hear though she always kept her good graces by being a passionate and dedicated employee, no one could deny her that. She was also great fun and the one Aquaria and Divina latched most to due to her down to earth ethic.

"Have you seen a lovelier morning?" Her lips curling into a smirk, beyond happy to see summer was beginning to disappear and change into winter. " Never! "

"Anyone mind if I take the day off?" Dreamingly sighing as she took her gloves off, stuffing them in her purse as she glanced over at Aquaria who patiently waited for their boss to arrive, "Aquaria!" The blonde suddenly jumped and stood in front of Katya, the Russian giggling.

"Why aren't you old enough to take me away from all this?"

"I am! I'm this close to being a clerk."

"Just end all the stress and marry me, then I can quit my job and suntan all day!" She started with her glowing blue eyes, desperately groaning.

"Well, I'm afraid you're not quite old enough are you?" Her stature still read teenager, the bicycle was definitely not helping her look any more mature or older.

"I'm catching up! Mrs. Edwards always said before she left that I'd get to be 35 before you ever did." Divina almost immediately punched her right in her shoulders, coughing and giving a maddening expression seeing Katya visibly holding back an offended expression.

"Ah, Mrs. Honard!" Divina lightened the conversation much to the delight of Katya who whipped her head around, looking for her business partner as if they hadn't just spent another lonesome night together filled with strained goodbyes, burnt cigarettes and millions of red lipstick marks across each other’s bare skin. The Russian turned and propped herself against the door, pretending to seem disinterested in her little love affair walking up to the establishment.

"Good morning on this radiant day." Alaska replied with a permanent grin drawn across her lipstick covered mouth, the bright red popping out against her light blonde hair that was pulled into a high ponytail— it hung comfortably as she adjusted her form fitting black and white suit: perfectly cleaned and tight. The blonde's gold and black came in place of her right hand as she urgently slammed it into the sidewalk.

"Good day." All three, including Katya chimed in with no surprise as the taller blonde walked over the giddy Russian girl who took her hand, "Good morning, my dear, you've never looked so beautiful." She gripped her fingertips and spun her once to see the dress in it's full glory. Katya could only place a hand on Alaska's shoulder, their other free hand interlocking.

"Thank you, how kind." She winked as Alaska mentioned what a marvelous dress she had managed to put on for today's work shift, though Aquaria quickly interjected: not very trusting of Alaska in general, especially with her complicated relationship concerning Katya.

"Same dress she had on just two days ago Ms. Honard."

Once again she was met with Divina hitting her in the shoulders, though she turned around and groaned. "What?" She whispered as Katya and Alaska leaned against the window pane, making idle conversation before the redhead clapped and waved, "Well, well if it isn't Ms. Couleé, early as always."

Shea was always the last one to arrive from the employees besides Mrs. Coady who had to come and open the shop anyway, no harm in spending an extra twenty minutes sleeping in knowing the routine schedule and opening. She ran her hands down her red suit, picking up her pace knowing that any moment would be when they'd have to begin the ever-changing shifts and work, the winter season would be upon them soon enough wouldn't it?"

She managed a bright smile for her friends at the perfume shop who had been waiting earlier than her she had suspected, "Good morning, isn't that a beautiful sky? Too nice of a day to be inside just counting change."

Katya clapped, in absolute agreement speaking up first, "Why don't we all just take a day off work?"

Divina snapped back rather quickly, "Leaving Mrs. Coady without a single clerk?" The Russian bit her lip and shrugged. All she wanted was to soak in that last bit of bright light and take the day to simply stroll around the town and across the bridge. Shea laughed, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she let the wind hit her face, her fingertips brushing through her straightened hair. It probably needed a cut, but she might as well wait until winter when the season would pick up business again.

The American laughed, "Another day, another time." She gently patted Katya's shoulder as she frowned, exhausted, Shea could only patiently await the time when Mrs. Coady would come and open the doors up, she had a new letter she urgently needed to share with Divina. She knew of her secret correspondence better than anyone else, and it was the best feeling for Shea to open the mail and know she had a letter from a Dear Friend.

A duo of two ladies walked across the street, glancing at the perfume and cold creams displayed in the glass, light from the sun still shining through  as they walked down. The employees could only listen in on the conversation with impatience. One wearing an ensemble of purple, with thickly curled blonde hair and blue eyes as her gloves held a pearl clutch speaking to a taller and thinner brunette who's eyes shined across the street looking down at her blue velvet heels.

"Have you ever actually tried their cold creams?"

"I wonder if they're any good!"

"Good?" A voice spoke up, the employees quickly straightening themselves realizing it was Mrs.Coady. The blonde walked over the pair whom had been beyond amused to see the actual shop owner speaking to them about her own products. They spoke for a quick moment, her curls bouncing off her shoulders and black blazer as she looked at her workers and grinned, "Good day!" She fiddled with the key before opening the shop for duty.

Sharon passed everyone first to make it to her office unbothered, knowing her shop well enough to put it under Shea's watchful eye.

Shea and Alaska quickly ran off and grabbing the new shipments, unlocking the cabinets and putting their countertops together as Alaska begun setting up her work station that sat on the left, right near the door which was where Katya spent a great amount of her time: it was truly pure coincidence isn't it?

Aquaria grabbed some of the lavender scented perfume, carefully holding it as to not drop it— it was entirely made of glass perfectly colored in a sequence of pastel purple diamonds. She gently sprayed it around the shop and gave an extra spritz to Katya who always waved the perfume near herself and skipped into the fumes, to make sure it was on her wrists and neck.

The Russian raced to the door in her pink heels, opening the door with the bells and chimes perfectly echoing throughout the  shop. Shea, Divina and Alaska all stood in front of their workplaces that now displayed a various array of products.

"Good afternoon Madam may I help you?"

Alaska spoke first, gently taking the hand of a brunette with long straight hair who was wearing a long red dress, her eyes brown: duly noted . The lady sitting on the chair immediately, beginning to go through her handwritten list of items she needed before the season began.

Divina and Shea took the two others, one each to their station as they began their work. Selling all the new items: the toilet water, the Mona Lisa creams, the Lily scented soap that they now had in the large size as well as a medium and small.

These were simply the sounds while selling.

The hours and minutes would be whisked away with more chimes, more sales and a hopeful increase in money: that meant they would all benefit at the end of the night. Budapest was slowly becoming more and more expensive with the influx of tourists growing.

It was about twenty minutes later the gaggle of ladies all stood up to walk out the door, bags bundled with card charges and early Christmas orders as well as physical gifts wrapped and ready with their paper bags sporting the signature cursive "C" stamp on the front in gold lettering. Katya opened the door as the chimes went off.

The three gathered at the front, bowing and extending their hands for the corporate goodbyes they had been taught from the moment they received the job.

"Thank you Madam, please call again, do call again: Madam!"

Katya shut the door before walking over to Alaska, leaning over her counter as the two began to ramble on, Shea turning disinterested and anxious to share what she had uncovered in the latest addition to her letters. "Divina!" She called over the British girl who put down her bag under one of the drawers, prancing over to Shea with a cackle.

"Yes?" Her arms outstretched around her shoulders.

"I got another letter today, from her. From Dear Friend!"

The letters had been going on for over four months now, it was everything Shea had lived for: they’d discussed meeting up soon indefinitely. She must've lived in Budapest if they had met from Shea's anonymous Lonely Hearts Club ad in the local newspaper. Whomever Dear Friend was, she hoped she didn't live up to Shea's exception because she was far too perfect, she sounded intelligent, a passionate young lady with all the talents and charm in the world.

"Oh really? Did she finally enclose a snapshot?"

Shea rolled her eyes and could only breathe out a gentle sigh of relief, opening the handwritten letter up for the two girls to read while the customers were gone.

"Listen to this!"

Clearing her throat she began reading the letter, imagining the person behind these impeccable replies and penmanship.

—

" Dear Friend,

Yesterday morning I ran through the rain to the office! I had the key in my hand, the key to Box 1433.

Trembling, I opened the door and reached inside.

And oh, dear friend, there you were! I took you out and held you in my land and looked at you for a moment.

Then I sat down, gently opened you and read you. "

—

Divina smiled hopeless, part of her was hoping that all this was true and indeed not some kind of setup, they had all heard the one in a million stories with the pen pal's meeting face to face and it not going entirely well: bodies ending up in the Danube.

"That is very well written, have you talked about finally meeting?"

Shea closed the letter and gently stuffed it in her suit's blazer pocket, exchanging a grin to the Brit who sat now on what was usually the customer's stool. "We have, she's working out the details and then we will absolutely meet! We have to, I'm getting impatient to say the least."

"I can tell, you're always vibrating and tapping your feet."

"Divina this is serious! What if she's everything I've ever wanted her to be?"

The redhead gave a confused gaze at her friend and fellow employee, "If she's as perfect as these letters are making her out to be than I think you are very lucky. If I wasn't married to Viv maybe I'd try my own luck." Shea had given at least a small chuckle at the mention of Divina's wife. "Well if anything ever happens, you know who to call to make your AD."

That signature Divina cackle left straight from her stomach as she clutched Shea's wrists and kicked her legs before clearing her throat and calming down rather quickly.

"I'll definitely let you know."

Shea turned towards her designated workstation and sighed, playing with the products. Aquaria had been sweeping the floors and underneath the stations, Shea moving it gently as to smooth along the process for the younger blonde. Daydreaming wasn't exactly recommend at her job but her entire head had been preoccupied with thoughts about her Dear Friend.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a door from the back open, Sharon quickly walking out and slamming it shut, holding an envelope between her fingertips. Blonde hair falling in her face though she quickly tucked it behind her ear.

"Shea!" She yelled, her dark brown eyes peered across her station as she quickly stepped down from the platform and walked towards her boss, a bit confused as work had barely even begun and already their boss had something to say.

"Yes Mrs. Coady?"

"Let's talk."

[snowfall-fanfictions]

Beware the Frozen Heart Ch. 5- The Dagger

Ao3 link

FF.net link

Eryn begins his duty as Elsa’s bodyguard. Also, I actually used Olaf for the first time in my fanfictions. Enjoy!

Eryn studied himself in the mirror thoroughly as he buttoned up his jacket. It had been a few days since he was fully healed from his “daring” rescue of the queen and princess. He ended up stumping the medical staff with his recovery. None of the doctors or nurses could explain what had happened, just that one day the wound disappeared, as if nothing had happened. “You should have been bedridden for weeks!” the doctors would say, “It’s a miracle you can even walk.” Each time they talked about Eryn’s recovery he would respond with some snide comment on the “miracles of modern science.” If it kept them off his case, then it was a sound solution.

 The queen wasn’t kidding when she called this guest room “the larger one.” Eryn noted that you could fit an entire company of guards in here and you would still have room to breathe comfortably. The only pieces of furniture in the entire room were a queen sized bed, a dresser, and the large mirror Eryn was suiting himself up in front of. Instead of wearing worn and dirty travelling clothes, he now wore a forest green jacket and a pair of gray pants, the official colors of the Arendellian guards. He harbored a deep resentment for these clothes. They brought back… unpleasant memories of his younger years. Eryn suppressed those memories as much as he could. What happened in the past had happened. His future was awaiting him in her office.

He surveyed his person one last time to make sure he looked as neat and tidy as possible. If he were to kill the queen, he should at least look good while doing so. Despite that, he felt as if something was missing. He peered down to his left thigh and saw that the sheathe he had was empty. His dagger was missing! Eryn spun around and scanned the room for the blade, but to no avail. Damn knife, he thought as he let out a groan, guards must’ve taken it when they dragged me in. The dagger had been in his possession since he was a child, and he and it were near inseparable. To him, the dagger was an extension of himself.

Slightly annoyed, Eryn stuck out his hand as he called forth the blade mentally. Dark tendrils emerged from under his sleeve as they wrapped around his hand. He felt his energy drain as if he were running a marathon. He could almost feel the dagger in his clutch-

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

Eryn jerked his head towards the door as someone rapped loudly on it. The tendrils evaporated from his hand and he no longer felt the dagger. Cold sweat covered his brow as his breath became ragged. Eryn let out a string of curse words under his breath as he walked over to the door. As he swung the door open, he expected to be greeted by the captain of the guard or a member of the castle staff. At first, he didn’t see anyone. Eryn bunched his eyebrows together in frustration until someone said, “Uh, down here.” when he looked down to find who said that, he was immediately taken aback. A snowman only about waist high stood at his door, grinning at him as if it never once had a thought in its life. A small cloud hovered above his head, occasionally dropping snowflakes onto the being.

“Hi,” it said, waving its stick of an arm up to him, “I’m-” “Jesus Christ!” Eryn blurted out.

“Good guess, but nope! I’m Olaf and I like warm hugs!”

Eryn tried to process the talking snowman in front of him. Maybe that bullet wound affected my head more than I thought he pondered. He carefully reached down to the snowman and poked at his head. His finger was immediately met with cold and wetness. There was no denying it: there was a real walking, talking snowman in front of him.

“How in the-”

“It’s a long story. I can tell it to you on the way to Elsa’s office, if you want. I’m good at telling stories!”

“Then I take it the queen sent you here?”

“Yep! She forgot to tell you where her office is, so she sent me to get you! Let’s go!” Olaf then proceeded to waddle down the hallway, humming cheerfully to himself. Eryn quickly strode to keep up with the snowman, wondering how he managed to get himself into this situation.

One story later…

“So let me get this straight, the queen freezes the entire kingdom, runs off into the mountains, and nearly kills her own sister, and everyone is fine with it because… true love? ” Eryn asked in disbelief after hearing the snowman’s account of the previous year’s events. He was secretly impressed to see that a being with no brain recount so much with such detail.

“Yep!” Olaf said without hesitation, “Isn’t it great? Now we’re getting ready for a big wedding and I get to help!” the snowman began bouncing with each step. Eryn smirked at the snowman’s giddiness. Eryn always loved weddings, not because he was a romantic, but because of how much easier his job was during one. The combination of alcohol, festivities, and general merriment made people drop their guard. A perfect time to, say, kill the queen of Arendelle while the guards were watching over the reception. Eryn loved it when things worked out like this.

Olaf kept rambling as he guided Eryn to the queen’s office. He talked about everything, from the different kinds of snow to useless trivia about the castle staff. Eryn’s brain began to numb from the snowman’s drabbling, hoping he would shut up. He shifted his concentration to the castle itself. Eryn made a mental note at each hallway, each guard, and each possible escape route, if needed. While he was observing his surroundings, he didn’t notice that Olaf stopped until he tripped over the snowman. Eryn fell to the ground with a thud.

“ Fuck!” he groaned as he scrambled off of the floor. His head began throbbing as he massaged the area that struck the ground,

“What’s ‘fuck’ mean?” Olaf asked, unphased that he caused Eryn to trip.

Eryn stared into the snowman’s innocent eyes.“Uh… nothing.” “You hesitated.”

“Does it matter?”

“Why say it if it doesn’t mean anything?”

“Wha- Why did you stop?!”

“Because we’re here!” the snowman gestured widely to the door in front of him. It was a large door, with intricate carvings adorning its face. Eryn scrambled off of the floor and readjusted his uniform as he faced the door.

“T-thank you, Olaf, was it?” Eryn said as he regained his composure.

“You’re welcome!” Olaf exclaimed, “I’m gonna go find Anna, maybe she’ll know what that word means!” With that, Olaf began to waddle away, humming to himself as he always did.

Eryn watched as the snowman bounded around the corner and out of sight.  He was still unsure if it was actually real or a product of a concussion. Eryn shook his confusion away and turned his attention to the door.

He had no time to be confused while there was a murder to plot…

XXXXXX

Elsa let out a groan in frustration. She had realized that she had misspelled yet another word in her letter to the newly coronated Queen of Corona, which she was about half a page’s worth into by the time she noticed the error. Silently muttering to herself, she reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a fresh piece of parchment. Flattening it out on her desk, the queen began copying the words on the old draft onto the new one, careful as to not make the same mistake agai-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

Elsa let out a surprised squeak as her body shot up from her writing position. “Uh- Come in,” she grumbled. Looking down at her parchment, she noticed a large ink smear jutting from where she was writing. The queen said a few curse words under her breath as the door creaked open. She looked up from her mistake and saw Derrik standing before her desk, dressed in the traditional Arendellian Guardsman clothes.

“Your Majesty,” he announced as he gave a small bow.

“Ah, Mr. Ormiester, welcome,” Elsa said with a warm smile, “Glad to see your fully recovered. I would have guessed you would’ve been hospitalized for a few more weeks.”

“It surely isn’t the worst thing that’s happened to me,” he chuckled, “But that’s neither here nor there. How may I be of service to you?”

Elsa pondered his question for a second. “Well,”  she began, “Anna asked me to help her with some wedding plans, so we’ll need an escort around the town.”

“Ah, yes, the snowman mentioned there was a wedding in the works. When shall we depart?”

Elsa looked down at her botched parchment and sighed. “After I finish this letter, I’ve been working on this for hours.”

Derrik gave her a look of concern. “Hours? You must be exhausted! Are you sure you’re able to-”

“I’m fine. I’ve got it this time. Shouldn’t take me more than a few minutes.”

Derrik sighed lightly. “Very well, ma’am. I shall wait outside when you’re done then.”

“Thank you, Derrik.”

With that, Derrik opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Elsa sighed as she reached into her drawers to retrieve a new piece of parchment paper. She was shocked, to say the least, when she found that her supply of parchment was empty. The queen groaned as she slammed her head onto her desk in defeat.

XXXXXX

As soon as he closed the door behind him, Eryn let his fake concern fade into a devious grin. He considered himself lucky when the queen offered him this bodyguard position. Now that she basically confirmed to him that she spends hours upon hours alone, and that she exhausts herself daily, he’s certain that this will be the easiest job he’s ever taken. The money, the fortune, all would be his in due time.

While he was reveling in the luck he found, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. He soon realized that he forgot to get his dagger once his hand brushed past its empty hilt. Eryn quickly scanned the immediate hallway to make sure no one was coming. Once he confirmed that the coast was clear, he extended his hand and called for the dagger in his mind. The shadowy tendrils shot out from his sleeve and enclosed his extended hand. Once he felt a defined shape, he clamped down onto the mass before him. Once the shadows dissipated, he saw the dagger resting in his clutch, its ebony hilt still as warm as when he last held it. The runes etched into the blade glowed a faint crimson. Still a bit of magic left, eh? He thought

No thanks to your stupidity, boy, the dagger called out in a faint, guttural voice in Eryn’s mind, Do you realize how much I had to spend to keep you from dying?

You still had enough to find me, that’s all that matters, Eryn shot back mentally.

It was still your fault that I was lost in the first place. You know you don’t have to be the dashing hero all the time, right?

Relax, my ‘heroics’ just gave us a direct line to the target.

Have they now? Maybe you’re not as stupid as you let on.

Just a few more days and we’ll be ready to strike. This is one of the easiest jobs I’ve ever taken. Can you feel the excitement in the air?

I’m a weapon. I have no feeling.

Spoilsport. Eryn then slotted the dagger in its sheath, just as he heard excited footsteps bounding down the hall. A young redheaded woman appeared before him, gasping for air as she slowed down.

“Is Elsa in there?” she asked in a ragged voice.

“I take it you’re Princess Anna,” Eryn responded, “The queen is finishing up a letter and will be out momentar-”

The young princess shoved him aside as she flung the door open and shut. Eryn was taken aback by how effortlessly she pushed him away. He wondered how such a small frame could pull off such a feat. Eryn didn’t have much time to think, however, as the princess emerged with the queen in hand, who looked just as astonished as he did.

“Alright,” the princess exclaimed, “Let’s get going!” Anna then sprinted down the hallway with the queen in tow.

Easiest job you’ve ever taken, hmm? The blade teased.

Shut up you flimsy butterknife! Eryn responded as he dashed to keep up with the princess and the queen.

[raywritesthings]

Dear Friend, 1/?

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak, Joanna de la Vega Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: When Felicity decides to get serious about Ray, she knows it won’t be a good idea for Oliver to be hanging around. So she turns to the world of online dating to keep him distracted. Unknown to the both of them, over the summer Joanna had set Laurel up with an online dating account in the hopes that her friend could move on from past failed relationships. There’s only one way this can end. *Can also be read on my AO3*

Not for the first time, Felicity wondered what she was going to do about Oliver.

After what had seemed an age, he had finally asked her out and they were going to give things a shot — only for him to back out thanks to a bomb going off in the restaurant. Definitely not her usual fantasy ending.

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been hurt. He’d tried to tell her it wasn’t due to a lack of feelings on his part, but Felicity wasn’t really interested in what his excuse was. If he really loved her, he would want to be with her no matter what. She’d waited too long to settle for anything less.

And then things had changed.

Put off as she’d been by her new day job boss at first, Ray Palmer had quickly grown on her. Lifting her out of the secretarial pool had been a small mercy, for one thing. She would have rather stayed in her retail job than go back to that. And he was open with her about his past and the things he struggled with, more open than Oliver had been in three years. She felt like he saw her and as more than just a last resort.

Ray was...something. A something she sort of wanted to see what it might become. But that was never going to happen with Oliver and the specter of their nonstarter relationship hanging over her. She only had to look back two years to see how he’d single-handedly dismantled Laurel’s chances with Tommy to see where that would go.

Things would be best if Oliver’s attentions were directed elsewhere, that much was clear. But she doubted she could convince him to start a relationship with someone who didn’t even know his secrets if he wasn’t willing to date her and be the Arrow at the same time.

If she could just give him the illusion of pursuit to distract himself with, that might just be enough. He wasn’t any good at hanging onto relationships anyway, so it’d probably be more fun for him to not actually be in one, merely testing the waters of one — or perhaps several, if that was what it took.

Her chances of getting him to try speed-dating were slim to none, at least not in person. But there was a much more convenient alternative she thought far more likely.

“Technology saves the day again,” Felicity thought to herself. Now how to put this in a way he might actually be willing to consider.

She puzzled over that for the rest of the workday and on her drive to the Verdant. When she arrived, she found herself in luck; Oliver was the only one occupying the Cave. The salmon ladder, too. She was really lucky today.

As tended to happen, Felicity’s careful planning came out in a single blurt. “So, I was thinking about your problem.”

Oliver paused on the rung he was currently hanging from and looked down. “My problem?”

“Your dating problem.”

He grimaced and dropped down onto the mat. “Felicity—”

“I know, I’m the last person you want to talk to about this. But let us consider why we are in this situation in the first place.”

Oliver said nothing, but he wasn’t running away either. Not that he had anywhere to run when this was both his base and home. Felicity took this as a sign to continue.

“You don’t feel you can be close to another person while being the Arrow. But you would also like a relationship. So I thought of a way to achieve both of those things.” She reached over to the table where Oliver had placed his phone along with his water and wallet.

“What are you doing?” He was more puzzled than angry-sounding, and he made no move to stop her as she entered his password and went to the app store.

“I am downloading an online dating app and creating an account for you.”

“Online dating?” He echoed, incredulous. Oliver made a grab for the phone, but she pulled it in towards her chest, still typing away. Felicity knew he’d never force it out of her hands even though he could. “I don’t want that.”

“But you need it. You don’t stay single long, Oliver, and there is a long line of ex-girlfriends who can attest to that.”

He didn’t have an argument to deny that, and they both knew it.

Eventually he said, “I don’t think online dating is the best way for someone like me to date, Felicity. I have a reputation that would be hard for a stranger to see past.”

“That’s why it’s anonymous.”

“Anonymous?”

She nodded. “You get a username and a little bio description, and then you match with another person based off the answers you gave to various preference questions. Then after you have a certain number of conversations, you can choose to share your picture or name or whatever.”

“What if you don’t want to?”

“Then don’t,” she said with a shrug. She had to suppress a smile as well, as that was ultimately the goal here: keep Oliver busy with possible romances for as long as possible. She could never see him settling down with one, at any rate.

“So, your username. Any ideas?”

Oliver was silent. Still a reluctant participant, then.

“Hm. Well, what about…” Felicity snapped her fingers. “King of Survival. Get it? Cause surviving is kind of your thing, and the king part is a play on your name. Can’t really use Queen. That would definitely be giving off the wrong vibe,” Felicity said, her smile fading when he didn't laugh. Not that she would’ve expected it. She typed it in and hit the box for the next page. “Anyway, now there’s just the bio and answering some basic questions about preferences.”

She began typing out what she felt to be a fair and accurate description without getting into any incriminating detail. Oliver wandered over a little closer. He looked as though mentally he was starting and stopping several sentences.

“What sort of questions do they ask?”

“The basics. If you’re a neat freak or a slob, cats or dogs, favorite foods. You’re not big on sweets, right?”

“Actually, I — well, I don’t dislike them.”

Felicity looked up in surprise. She would never have guessed. “But you drink black coffee.”

“Sure, because it’s coffee. But I like, you know, ice cream. And Thea and I, every Christmas we used to — well, it doesn’t matter.”

Felicity was glad. She wasn’t particularly interested in Oliver’s Christmas traditions with his sister that had no doubt fallen by the wayside long ago. She held out the phone. “Maybe you should answer the questions.”

He took it and stared down at the screen. “There’s no chance you’re gonna let me just delete this thing, is there?”

“Nope.” Felicity reached out and touched his arm. “Just give it a try. For me?”

Oliver’s shoulders rose and fell with his sigh. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” she said scarcely before he’d finished. “Okay, so answer the questions, and then you should be all set up and start seeing other profiles.”

Oliver’s deep frown remained throughout as he hit the button for this or that answer. But John and then Roy soon entered the base, meaning she couldn’t really ask. Oliver was going to need privacy if she wanted him to actually try, and something told her John would say this wasn’t a good idea.

As the boys all left the Cave, however, she decided a little peek wouldn’t hurt. Just to make sure he’d finished setting up the profile. To her relief, he had, and slowly more and more matches were being brought up for him to look at.

“That’s one distracted Oliver and me in the clear,” Felicity muttered to herself, locking Oliver’s phone and setting it aside again.

So far so good.

—-

It wasn’t until the next morning that Oliver got around to looking at his phone again, much less the newly-added app. Part of him thought to just ignore it altogether, but the device had been periodically beeping with notifications. Probably as it found new supposed matches for him. This was ridiculous.

Oliver couldn’t even believe he’d agreed to this. What interest did he have in online dating? He wished he could be with Felicity, but it was just too much of a risk. Was this just her way of trying to prove a point to him? He already knew that the life he’d chosen could only be a solitary one.

But he supposed he owed it to her to give it a try. She’d gone ahead and put the app into his phone, anyway, so it was useless to argue whether or not it was happening. And it wasn’t as if he had anything else to do during the daytimes. Even he knew training for the entire day only to fight through most of the night was more of a detriment to his health in the long run than anything. And he’d promised Felicity.

Oliver opened the app and began scrolling down a list displaying accounts that had been selected according to his own preferences. They each had their own username and a short bio attached, and his eyes caught on one in particular.

JusticeIsAWoman

Career-driven. Closer to thirty than I’d like. Slow to get to know, but passionate about the people close to me. Really just looking for a friend.

That could work. At the least, it didn’t really sound like an actual relationship would result — which he didn’t want in the first place, but he didn’t want to hurt some anonymous person’s feelings over it.

He could tell Felicity he’d tried even if it didn’t work out. At the least it wouldn’t be lying.

And something about the bio’s frank tone intrigued him. It felt more authentic, like someone he wouldn’t mind talking to, even if it only lasted a few minutes. And there was no denying the irony of a vigilante pursuing justice.

Nothing ventured…

He hit the icon that opened up a message box and began to type.

—-

Work was not exactly going well today. She was still tired and a bit sore from her workouts at the gym, not that she was about to give those up. It was the only time she really felt alive anymore, not like at the office where she had to pretend everything was fine and that she hadn’t watched her sister’s body fall off a rooftop only a few short weeks ago.

It wasn’t that she hated her job. It just wasn’t enough anymore, not when the city was regularly on the verge of crisis the past few years and the justice system couldn’t even try keeping up. Sitting on the sidelines and watching Oliver and the others do something about it just grew more and more frustrating with each passing day.

It wasn’t as if she could have much of her own life anymore. She was lying to her father about Sara, lying to anyone not on Oliver’s team about the Arrow, and lying to herself about why she kept turning down various invites to go out or be set up with a friend of a colleague. Why not do something worthwhile with the time she wasn’t using?

A vaguely familiar sounding ping came from her purse. Laurel dug around in it for her phone and blinked at the screen. Then she groaned.

“Speak of the devil.”

There was a notification from the dating app Joanna had made her download this past summer. It had been a while since she’d heard anything from it; truthfully Laurel had been pretty sure she’d fended off the majority of any potential suitors, which she realized was not what her friend had wanted at all.

“You need to get back out there,” Joanna had said. “Seriously, Laurel, you have gone through so much, and I don’t want to see you give up on a single part of your life. And that includes relationships.”

“Joanna, I appreciate that, I really do.” Laurel had tried for a smile, not wanting to make her friend feel bad. “But it’s not that I’m not dating because I’m still hung up on some guy.” Not the guy Joanna had probably been thinking of, anyway. “I just really don’t have the time to date around.”

“Who does anymore? That is why all the young professionals have gotten into this nifty thing called online dating.”

She’d suppressed a groan. “I think you mean old people.”

“Yeah, on eHarmony, sure. But there’s sites for busybodies hitting their thirties just like you and me.”

“I’m not sure it’s going to look that great for the ADA to be online dating,” Laurel had said, thinking it an easy-out.

“Then we’ll set you up with one of those anonymous sites,” Joanna had decided. “It’s more for the practice than anything. Just to boost your confidence so you can start dating in the real world again.”

Grudgingly, she’d handed her phone over and let Joanna search for and download an app that met the right specifications.

“Now, you’re gonna need a username. Something kind of mysterious and sexy—”

“I’m not trying to be sexy,” she’d reminded her friend.

“--but still you,” Joanna had continued as though Laurel hadn’t spoken. She’d bitten her lip in a long few minutes of thought, and just when Laurel had begun to hope they’d been stymied before this could really begin, Joanna’s eyes had lit up. “Oh, this one’s perfect!”

Laurel had leaned over the table to watch her friend’s typing. “Justice is a woman?”

“And that woman is you. Come on, it fits.”

She’d coached Laurel through writing a little bio section that didn’t give away any real personal details and a brief questionnaire that was meant to determine her preferences. Laurel had insisted on making it clear she wasn’t really in the market for a relationship; just a friend would do.

“You realize most guys are gonna take that as code for a one-night stand, right?”

Joanna had been right, which had meant a couple solid weeks of slogging through various offers and blocking anyone who sent her an attachment on sight. With a little bit of tweaking, the messages had slowed to a trickle — though most of those were requests to join some pre-existing couple’s threesome since she’d honestly listed her openness towards talking to either men or women once Joanna hadn’t been watching.

But she’d forgotten all about it especially in the wake of Sara’s murder. Laurel unlocked her phone with the full intention to just delete the app, but her eyes caught sight of the message that had been sent.

KingOfSurvival: is the looking for a friend part of your bio for real?

Something about it gave her pause. It wasn’t exactly easy to tell over the internet, but the question seemed genuine. Although she wasn’t sure what to make of that username. The likelihood was that she was reading way too much into it, however, so with that in mind she typed out a terse reply.

JusticeIsAWoman: is that the setup for some kind of ‘change your mind with a dick pic’ maneuver

The reply was almost immediate.

KingOfSurvival: no

KingOfSurvival: I just meant I could use a friend myself. I’m not really on here to see anyone or hookup or anything with pictures

KingOfSurvival: do people really do that?

JusticeIsAWoman: you wouldn’t believe how often

She sat back in her chair, considering the turn this had taken. He wasn’t interested in dating her or sex, but he’d messaged her anyway. And in the middle of the workday. That didn’t exactly speak well for him, but maybe he was on his lunch break. Laurel hadn’t been planning to take one, but there wasn’t anything pressing on her desk at the moment.

JusticeIsAWoman: if you’re not interested in dating, what are you doing on a dating site?

KingOfSurvival: couldn’t I ask you the same?

“Touché,” Laurel muttered under her breath. He’d already sent a second message before she could begin typing.

KingOfSurvival: truth is a friend signed me up for this

JusticeIsAWoman: same thing happened to me

KingOfSurvival: that might say something about the company we both keep

JusticeIsAWoman: is that why you’re looking for new friends

There was a longer wait for his answer, and Laurel chewed her bottom lip, wondering if that remark had been a bit too biting.

KingOfSurvival: I laughed more than I should have at that

KingOfSurvival: but really, I guess my personal life is a little complicated and having someone else to talk to would be nice

Complicated personal life. Well, she doubted it could be as complicated as hers. And really, what was she doing chatting with some random stranger on the internet while her whole world kept getting knocked out from under her?

But having someone else to talk to would be nice. Someone who didn’t see her as all her past mistakes, or as just another fellow alcoholic. Wasn’t that the whole point to this anonymity?

JusticeIsAWoman: well, I don’t know how good I’ll be at it, but I can try to be that someone

JusticeIsAWoman: but there’s no way your personal life is more complicated than mine

KingOfSurvival: we’ll have to agree to disagree on that

KingOfSurvival: but if you need someone to talk to, too, then this might work out for both of us

JusticeIsAWoman: looks like it

She happened to glance at the time at the top of her screen and gave a guilty start

JusticeIsAWoman: but maybe later. Kind of need to get back to work

KingOfSurvival: oh, right. My bad

JusticeIsAWoman: are you unemployed or something?

KingOfSurvival: or something

JusticeIsAWoman: hm

KingOfSurvival: don’t you need to get going?

A short laugh escaped her at that, which surprised her. She actually couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed. Probably with Sara on the roof…

What was she doing? Laurel shook her head.

JusticeIsAWoman: fine, you get off easy for now

She set her phone aside face down and resisted the urge to check when it chirped again with her new anonymous friend’s reply. She’d save it for after work. That was the responsible thing to do.

Was it wrong to feel like she had something to look forward to now?

[pluckyredhead]

Daredevil 101: Echo

Thanks for sticking with me through “Guardian Devil,” friends. Brighter days are ahead of us! Well, not for Matt, he’s going to continue to be abjectly miserable for about 12 years, but the comics are a lot better.

Today, Matt tries to process Karen’s death with a little rebound in “Parts of a Hole.” This is written by David Mack and the art is a collaborative process between him and Joe Quesada, blending Quesada’s more traditional (though still very experimental for the time) work with Mack’s paintings. The result is a book that definitely has some rough patches, but is visually stunning. (If Mack’s work looks familiar, it’s probably because his Alias covers were the inspiration for the Jessica Jones opening credits.)

[ETA: I was incorrect about the above - Mack did thumbnail layouts but the art is all Quesada.]

Also, it introduces Echo, and she’s the best.

This is how it starts:

Yeah, Matt’s not in a great headspace these days.

I think this page is mostly Quesada, with some Mack influences in the background and hand lettering. I’d love to know their creative process for this story, because this was still the early days of digital art and sending huge files to collab on was no small thing.

With the new headquarters of Nelson and Murdock still under construction, Matt seems to spend most of his time wandering around his palatial home in a robe, playing piano:

This isn’t really plot-relevant, but I couldn’t deprive you guys of it. Also, Matt must have made an insane salary working for Rosalind because he had no savings when she hired him and yet he apparently bounced back enough to get a place in Manhattan with floor-to-ceiling windows and fill it with a grand piano. (Quesada is the king of giving Matt ludicrous, implausibly expensive surroundings; in another miniseries Matt has an entire room dedicated to his collection of Japanese armor and weaponry.)

Matt is not the only piano player in this story, though. Meet Maya Lopez:

Maya is Cheyenne (and presumably Latina, going by her last name, though that’s not confirmed in the text). She was born deaf, but she can remember and perfectly mimic anything she sees. When her father, Willie “Crazy Horse” Lincoln, was killed, his employer became her legal guardian. Once the guardian realized she was a prodigy, he spared no expense getting her the best schools and tutors to allow her to develop her gifts to their full potential.

Maya is a celebrated concert pianist, boxer, performance artist, and more. Her body does everything she asks of it, and audiences love her story of overcoming the odds. (Don’t let the childish drawings fool you - she’s about Matt’s age. I like the conceit artistically, but it does make her come off as much younger than him or somehow emotionally arrested. I mean, I guess she is, since she hasn’t made peace with her father’s death, but no one’s more emotionally arrested that Matthew M. Murdock.)

And who is her munificent guardian? Oh, just Wilson Fisk.

Fisk’s narration at the bottom picks up some of the themes of “Guardian Devil” - that Matt’s problems are because the women in his life have failed him - and it’s gross. Also gross? That he’s about to pimp out his foster daughter in yet another effort to destroy Matt from the inside. STOP TRYING TO BREAK HIS HEART, WILSON. JUST FUCKING SHOOT HIM.

But yeah, even though Fisk does seem to genuinely care about Maya - and she loves him and has no idea he’s anything but a legitimate “spice dealer” - he also recognizes that Matt will be drawn to her due to their shared life experiences, and so he sends her to see him on some legal pretense.

Before that, though, Matt and Foggy have a client (who they’re seeing at Matt’s house, since the office is under construction). His name is Lenny, he’s a former employee of Fisk’s who wants to flip on him, and he’s got a speech impediment that Matt has no trouble with but Foggy can’t quite get a handle on:

The bullet grazes Matt’s cheek - and kills Lenny. Matt suits up and takes down the sniper - a weirdo of a hired killer named Murphy - but it’s too late to save their client.

The next day, Matt’s a little stiff and concussed, but Foggy’s a mess:

I think Foggy’s OTT emotional reaction here is supposed to be comic relief, but it’s worth remembering that in the last storyline Foggy was drugged and sexually assaulted, arrested on false charges, fired by his own mother because she thought he was a rapist, and lost his second best friend in the world to a horribly violent murder. So yeah, not a shock that he’s fragile right now:

Anyway, drink it in, friends: Matt holding Foggy while he cries and then someone assuming they’re boyfriends. Also, presumably Matt heard Maya come in but decided that Foggy was more important. Aw.

Maya tells Matt about the flimsy legal pretense Fisk sent her there on and they make plans to meet to discuss it in more detail while he’s wearing pants. (She’s an expert lip reader so as long as they’re facing each other there’s no problem with communication.) Matt is charmed because Maya is adorable and smells really good and Matt is profoundly vulnerable right now and also, as Wolverine once put it, “the biggest himbo that ever wore a pair of tights.” (That line is CANON, folks!)

Next, Maya goes to see Fisk and ask him a very important question:

Who killed Maya’s father? Why, Daredevil, of course.

Having a specific person to blame has a profound effect on Maya. She does her best to process this new information through her art, in a one-woman show she writes and choreographs called Echo:

The handprint on her face represents the bloody handprint her father left there as he died. (This page is pure Mack, btw.)

But just performing it isn’t enough. She needs revenge.

But first, she needs to meet Matt Murdock for coffee!

I love Maya’s description of Matt up there, which could come out of pretty much anything on AO3 today. (Maybe Charlie Cox really took this comic to heart while he was researching the character?) I also love that she is serving up a serious 1999 Look (TM) while he looks like a pallbearer.

Anyway, they are utterly smitten with one another and it’s super cute. They agree to see each other again and part happily.

A few hours later, Echo attacks Daredevil:

Right, so Matt obviously knows immediately that it’s Maya - I’m not even sure he knows she’s wearing a costume. (And the handprint doesn’t really hide her face anyway.) But unless Maya stops for long enough to read his lips, she’ll have no idea it’s Matt (even though he tries to tell her right away, which is admirable, but dude, don’t ever tell Foggy about that).

I have to say, Maya’s costume makes sense for “I’m a dancer in the late 90s who is gonna go do some parkour and kill a guy, what do I have in my closet that works?” but it’s pretty half-assed design-wise. It’s...a sports bra and pants and Docs. The feathers are a really lazy “Also, Native American!” addition. My kingdom for a redesign and series by a Native artist. (Maya’s plotline here only touches on her Cheyenne heritage in passing, but there’s a later vision quest storyline that’s...dicey.)

The fight is broken up when some kids appear and Maya doesn’t want them witnessing violence. Matt’s left trying to figure out why Maya’s trying to kill him.

Meanwhile, the Lenny case isn’t over! See, Lenny has a twin brother named Larry, and both he and Murphy (the sniper) are willing to testify against Fisk. The DA’s office makes Foggy a special ADA due to his familiarity with Fisk’s history and general badassery. To rattle him, Fisk hires Rosalind:

The absolute pair on you, Franklin. My God.

Taking this case is a sublimely shitty move on Rosalind’s part, of course, on multiple levels. (And yes, I know I said last time it would be the last time we saw her, but I’d forgotten about this. She’ll be back one more time in a few years, too.)

Foggy loses...and kind of flips out, openly calling Fisk a murderer and accusing him of buying off the jury. It’s not stated outright, but I have to imagine his mother coolly opposing him in court after abandoning him without a second thought didn’t help his emotional state.

As Fisk leaves the court, he’s attacked by Larry, looking to avenge his brother. Daredevil shows up, but too late:

Fisk falls into the river and is presumed dead. Matt takes the gun from Larry and is photographed holding it - and Maya, seeing the photos and the headlines, thinks Daredevil just killed her second father.

Meanwhile Foggy, still in his role as an ADA (with no acknowledgment from the story that he used to be DA), is tearing through Fisk’s organization while, uh, Matt faps to it:

ILU FOGGY YOU BEAUTIFUL AVOCADO

Oh, but Fisk’s not dead, of course:

Nope, just hanging out in the sewer eating rats. This is like the third time, idk why Daredevil characters always end up in the sewers but they super do.

Oh, and we get so Fisk backstory which clearly informed the show:

Baby Fisk kills some random dude with a hammer, not his dad - we don’t actually know what happens to his parents - but the hammer is there, as is the working class household full of fighting.

Meanwhile, Echo goes after Daredevil again - but when the cut from the earlier bullet graze opens up on his cheek, she remembers Matt’s injury and finally recognizes him:

Sigh. Did we really need that much sideboob, Quesada?

Anyway, Maya finally draws the inevitable conclusion: Fisk killed her father, not Daredevil. It’s not entirely clear why Willie would’ve asked his murderer to care for his child or why Fisk did it (side note: I’d love to know what kind of relationship, if any, Maya had with Fisk’s son).

And so Maya finally confronts her father’s killer:

Maya leaves town to figure herself out. Matt returns to the slow process of healing. And Fisk? Fisk gets the ironic ending. I’m not sure exactly where Maya shot him, but, well...

Next up: Bendis!

[aj-diamond]

Promptis Week: Day 1:  Day 1: Realization- the moment they knew it was love / Ten Years Later This took me FOREVER to write. I really didn’t expect for it to be this long. I really didn’t. But, here it is, written and edited to the best of my ability. It has been forever since I written a fanfiction. I hope you enjoy! (And please spare me!)

Notes: This is a AU, Noct and Prompto are in college. Iggy and Gladio own a coffee shop. Noct’s not a prince and there is no pain in this world. *Breathes in* I need them to all be happy, okay? Also, Prompto is the one that realizes he’s in love. There is a purpose for that, that will be revealed in the upcoming days. And yes, everything will be connected. 

Rated: T (this time) 

Word Count: 3,601 (Too many words)

Also can be read on: Ao3 

@promptisfanweek

He’s Falling in Love Now… (Realization)

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

Prompto whined loudly, how could it possibly be 8AM already? He just laid down for a little shut eye. Maybe his alarm clock was broken and was lying to him now. Prompto opened his eyes halfway and glanced at his alarm clock. It was blurry but he made out the time, 8:03AM.

He whined louder and buried his face in his pillow, “Nooo! I wanna sleep. Let me sleep!”  He slammed the snooze button down.

Granted, not getting enough sleep was his own fault. A ten-page essay for his art appreciation class was due today by 12PM and he only had it half finished. He managed to finish the assignment that morning, around 4AM. He had weeks, 3 weeks to be precise, to finish the essay, but he continuously put it off. Blame procrastination or the lack of motivation, or maybe the fact that Street Fighting Kings II had come out a week after the assignment was given. Either way, it just wasn’t done and now it was.

Prompto slowly rose up from his warm, comfy, rollaway bed and dragged himself towards the bathroom, “I’ll brush my teeth, take a quick, cold shower and get some coffee.”

Coffee. That’s what he needed. He needed a least two, strong, large cups of coffee and a chocolate frosted doughnut with sprinkles.  He wasn’t going to be able to make it if he didn’t get coffee and doughnut.

He staggered into the bathroom and flipped on the light, he rubbed his face with both his hands as though he was trying to wipe off his sleepiness. Prompto looked into the mirror and nearly jumped at his reflection he could see. He looked like a zombie. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles were underneath his eyes. Strands of blond hair stood up everywhere.

“Okay. First things first. Contacts. Can’t see shit without those.” he mumbled, picking up the chocobo adorned contact storage case.

He popped the small storage case opened, and pressed his index finger to the right lens, “Okay, here we g- no!” The small lens fell off the blonde's finger and down his sink drain. Prompto closed his eyes, this couldn’t be happening. This seriously could not be happening.

One of his 500 gil contact lenses fell down the drain. Yeah, that wasn’t a lot to some people, but to him, a college student that was barely able to pay rent every month, it was a lot. Prompto threw his hands up, “Oh well! Didn’t need to see anyway! Way to go, Prompto.” He sighed aloud. “I guess I can just wear my glasses.”

He picked up his toothbrush and turned the faucet knobs… Nothing. He tried turning it again. Again, nothing. His water bill, he knew it was, they had sent him the notice just a couple weeks ago. He guessed they couldn’t wait for their payment till he got paid tomorrow.

Prompto tossed his toothbrush on the counter, “Guess, I’m just getting coffee. That’s only thing that can possibly turn this day around.”

He was not only exhausted but now dirty. Well, at least he felt dirty. Luckily, he didn’t smell. He had taken a shower last night when the water had still been on. But his face felt gross, and his teeth felt grimy. Chewing gum wasn’t helping them feel any cleaner either.

“Just think positive things, Prom. It’s going to be fine.” Prompto encouraged himself as he pushed the thick, red rimmed glasses up onto his nose. “You have three classes today, and then the evening shift at your job, and then you can go home and sleep!”

He nodded.  Things weren’t so bad when he thought about it, it was just a rocky morning. He couldn’t let such minor things ruin the rest of his day, “You can save for more contact lenses, and in the meantime, you can wear these glasses. No biggie!” he adjusted his glasses again. “It’s not like they look bad on me! Then, of course, I can pay my water bill in the morning! It’s all good!”

Prompto walked with a little more liveliness in his steps. He got closer to the small coffee shop, conveniently located right by his campus. He could smell the freshly brewed coffee from here, “Ah, Scholar’s Brew, my pick-me-up since my freshman year!”

Prompto jogged the rest of the way there, pushing open the double doors and bounding in. He inhaled deeply and exhaled, nothing beat the smell of coffee in the morning. He looked around the shop and it wasn’t too busy right now either. Perfect.

“Yo, Prompto,” said the big guy behind the counter.  “The usual?”

“Sup, Gladio!” Prompto greeted as he approached the counter, “Actually, instead of one cappuccino I need at least two. One for here and one to go. Venti. Extra espresso.”

“What the hel- Two, with extra espresso? Man, you’ll be bouncing off the walls all day!” he exclaimed. “Were you up late again last night playing video games or somethin’?”

“Ten-page essay. I totally procrastinated on it.” Prompto rubbed the back of his neck. Gladiolus’ laughter filled the small shop.

“That’s what ya get, ya know?” Gladiolus boomed. “I told ya not to get that game till you were done with it, but no, you just had to have.”

“Come on man, cut me some slack. It’s the only joy I have in life.”

“Only joy? Oh geez, you’ve made it very clear to me that you have never gone on a date or had a girlfriend if a video game is your ‘only joy’.”

Prompto flushed in embarrassment, he was so lucky that there was hardly anyone in here. If there were more than just an elderly couple and a woman and her children here he would have been ten times more embarrassed, “I just.... haven’t found the right person yet.” Prompto insisted, crossing his arms. “No one has really… caught my eye. Trust me! I’m a love expert!”

“Uh-huh, sure. Anything to go with your coffee?”

“I am!” Prompto protested, before turning and heading over to his usual table by the window. “I’ll have a chocolate frosted doughnut with sprinkles, please and thanks, Gladi.”

“Yep, should be out in a few!”  Gladiolus informed. “Iggy, we need two Venti cappuccinos, extra espresso! One for here, one to go! And a chocolate doughnut with sprinkles!”  

The blonde sat down, setting his backpack down on the floor next to his feet. He gently hummed and tapped his fingers against the tabletop as he patiently awaited his order, “Two venti cappuccinos with extra espresso? Plus, a sugary doughnut?” a voice questioned behind him.  “Are you trying to crash and burn?”  

Prompto blinked and then looked behind him, “Yeah, well that’s what happens when-”  He paused when he really got a look at the guy that dare question his coffee motives. He was handsome, very handsome. Smooth, pale skin, dark spiky hair that was perfectly styled, a pair of beautiful, dark stormy eyes that seemed to illuminate behind his dark bangs. In his ears, he had the graduate lobe piercing going on. Six glimmering, dark studs of various sizes adorned them.

When had this guy gotten there? Prompto swallowed hard, he hadn’t been there before, had he? He’s sure he would’ve noticed him when he walked in. Prompto cleared his throat and continued, “When you have a late night.”

The beautiful stranger cocked his head, “Lemme’ guess, you were up till about... 3AM working on a project that’s due today. Reason? You kept putting it off.”

He rose a brow, it was scary how close he was to being accurate, “It was 4AM, thank you, and it was a ten-page essay.”

“I was close,” he replied. “I was off an hour and an essay is considered a project, dude.”

Prompto opened his mouth, then closed it. He wasn’t entirely wrong. An essay was “technically” a writing project. He turned away from the dark haired stranger and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. He wasn’t going to discuss with a stranger a matter that knew nothing about it. He didn’t know him from the gods.

“I’m going to elaborate on why you put off your essay, chocobutt. Street Fighting Kings II came out and,” the stranger paused. Prompto’s ears perked up, he didn’t know whether it was because he called him ‘chocobutt’ or because he had mentioned SFKII. “You put in hours of gameplay trying to perfect the combos of new and old characters in the game.”

Prompto swiftly turned around, “You overheard my conversation with Gladio! That’s how you know all this!”

He raised his hands in defense, “All I heard was the order that you placed.” he said. “I was probably in the bathroom when your conversation with ol’ Gladi went down.”

“Are you… some kind of mage or something then?” Prompto questioned, leaning forward towards his direction. “How did you know?”

“You know how badass that would be if I was?” the stranger asked, leaning forward as well. “I’d be a Time Mage, hands down.”

Time Mage? Prompto couldn’t help but scoff, “Really, dude? Out of all the types of mages you picked the Time Mage?”

“What’s wrong with Time Mages? They can alter reality. They can use slow, haste, warp, and gravity.” the stranger argued. “Just imagine all the conveniences of being a lord of time!”

“Eh, it doesn’t have that many conveniences.” Prompto shrugged. “If you want convenience, Summoner is the way to go.”

“Summoner? How is being a Summoner, in any way, have conveniences?”  the dark haired boy turned his body towards him. “You think having an overgrown pet by your side whenever you want is convenient?”

“Dude, instead of “warping” to wherever you running late to, you ride on the back of Valefor and soar through the clouds!” Prompto beamed. “Or you could summon an adorable chocobo to get you where you need to go!”

“You like chocobos?”

“I love chocobos. They’re my favorite creature in the world!”

The stranger looked down and let out a small laugh, “Oh no wonder the front of your hair looks like a chocobo’s butt then.”

Prompto touched the front of his hair and then frowned, “My hair does not look like a chocobo’s butt!” He shook his head. “We’re off topic! How’d you know all that about me? With my essay and all?”

The stranger chuckled, which made the boy’s heart flutter a bit, “Observation.” he simply answered. “How I know you were up late; you look practically dead and you ordered two large cups of coffee.”

Prompto fidgeted with his glasses, “Well, I guess that was simple enough. What about my procrastination purpose, Mr. Observation? How did you know about SFKII?”

The other boy got up, flung his backpack on his shoulder, and made his way to his table. His boots clunked against the tile floors as he approached, “Mmm, well,” he said, stopping at his table. “I saw you have the limited edition SFKII pin on your backpack, I have it too. So, I know you have the game.”

Prompto held his breath, this guy was even more handsome close-up. And oh gods he smelled so freaking nice!

“If I’ve been putting off homework because of that game, I know you are too.” He tapped his knuckles on his table. “Well, see you chocobutt. Hope you get through your day alright.”

“M-my hair does not look like a chocobo’s butt.” he protested again.

The stranger flashed him a smile, (and when he did, Prompto swore his heart skipped a beat or two.) and started on his way again.

Prompto blinked, trying as hard as he possibly could to peel his eyes away from him.  Though, it was futile. He watched as he paid Gladiolus, as he said goodbye, as he walked out the door, and as he walked down the sidewalk… well, that was up until he looked over at him and smiled at him again. That was when he was able to take his eyes off of him and quickly look in the other direction, Oh gods, he saw me staring at him! He’s gotta think I’m weird.  He pressed his lips together. Wait, why am I freaking out like this?

“Here you are, Prompto. Two venti cappuccinos and a doughnut as you requested.” Ignis placed his coffees and doughnut on the table. “Are you sure you don’t want anything with, say, nutritional value?”

Prompto was in a daze, he could feel his cheeks burning and his heart thumping a mile a minute. He had heard Ignis, but didn’t hear him. “He was so cool,” he muttered to himself.

“What was that?” Ignis asked in a puzzled tone. “Are you feeling alright? Your face is bright pink. Do you need a drink of ice water?”

“Water? Hmm, yeah, it is a little warm in here isn’t?” Prompto said slowly.  “Yeah, water would be nice.”

“Right away.”

“Thanks.”

For the rest of the day, even with coffee in his system, (it was practically running through his veins once he had finished the second cup) Prompto felt out of it.

“When will this feeling go away?” He shut his apartment door, pressing his back against it. “After that encounter with that guy, I’ve been feeling different. My chest is warm and I feel like something is floating around my stomach.”

He shrugged off his backpack and let it fall at his feet, “Maybe it’s because I’m tired and hungry. Moreso tired.”

He kicked off his boots and, went straight to his bed. (It had been calling his name since he left his apartment) The blonde flopped onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow. He sighed contently, “Time for some shut-eye…” He stretched himself across his mattress, “The best part? I get to sleep in!”

Prompto closed his eyes, but his mind, as it had all day, wandered back to that guy that he encountered at the coffee shop. He sighed aloud, laying on his back and ran his down his hands down his face, “Why am I acting like this?”

He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t know why he kept thinking about him or why he kept wondering why he didn’t ask for his name. He wasn’t sure why his smile was engraved in his mind or why he was praying silently to the gods throughout the day that he would get to see him again soon.

Prompto’s eyes grew wide. “Wait... am I?!” He quickly sat up, he could feel heat spreading across his cheeks. It was all making sense to him now. The fluttering in his stomach was known as butterflies and the warmth in his chest… that was…

“But, that’s crazy. Something like that can’t happen in real life. There’s no such thing as love at first sight, right? Right?” Prompto covered his face with his hands. “I can’t have fallen in love so quickly...”

Though, what else could this possibly be? He was sure it wasn’t merely a crush or infatuation. He had crushes, thousands and upon thousands, and none of them felt like this. This one was different. (A good different.)

He to make sure though. He needed a second opinion. He needed to see him again.

Prompto ran to Scholar’s Brew the next morning (being a runner, he was at the little coffee shop in no time at all). His heart was full of excitement and his mind was filled with all kinds of scenarios of what could happen. But, when he got there he began to think of the things that may not happen. He thought of all the worst case scenarios, mainly the biggest worst case scenario; him not showing up.

He had to have been pacing and fidgeting with the skull ring on his finger for at least ten minutes. It was only until Gladio called him out when he stopped his nervous behavior, “Gods Prompto, are you going to come in or stay out there and pace all day?!”

“I was coming in, I just… thinking!”

“You think? I didn’t know you did that.” Gladiolus grabbed him by the back of his red flannel shirt and dragged him in. “Get your ass in here, Iggy already made you coffee. He said that you shouldn’t let it get cold.”

“Hey, hey, don’t drag me!” Prompto exclaimed, practically falling in the doors. “Lemme’ go, Gladi!”

Gladiolus let him go and once Prompto was released, his head instantly turned in the direction of the beanbag chair where he had met the nameless, mystery man. But, his stomach sank when he saw he wasn’t there. Maybe he just isn’t here yet.

Prompto pressed his lips and sat at his usual table. He picked up his freshly brewed coffee and took a sip. Yeah, don’t jump to conclusions. There’s still a chance I’ll get to maybe see him.

“Hey, what’s with that look? The coffee bitter or somethin’?” Gladiolus cocked a brow.

“My coffee? Bitter? Preposterous!” Ignis exclaimed from the kitchen.

“No, the coffee’s great as usual, Ig!” he trailed off. “Just great…!”

Gladio folded his arms, “Ya know what you’re going through is really none of my business. But, if you need to talk, I’m willing to listen.”  

Prompto was hesitant for a moment, but then figured, why not? What did he have to lose? He had no one else to talk about his situation with anyway. He picked up his coffee and took a seat at the bar. He took in a deep breath and looked at Gladio, “Remember when I said video games were my only joy in life, yesterday?”

“Mm, yeah, why?”

“Well, I think I may have a bigger and greater joy now.” Prompto took in another deep breath and whispered loudly. “I think I’ve fallen in love.”

“In love? What? When? With whom?” Ignis questioned coming from around the corner, looking quite curious.

Gladiolus chuckled, “Didn’t know you were listenin’ in, Iggs.”

“I wasn’t, just merely caught ear of it.” Ignis turned his attention from Gladiolus to Prompto. “Come now, Prompto. Who’s the girl? How recently did you meet her?”

Prompto took a big gulp of his coffee, then let out a nervous laugh, “Yeah, we met yesterday and… who said anything about it being a girl?”

“Oh, so you swing both ways, huh?” Gladiolus nodded in understanding. “Well, then let’s rephrase that. Who’s the guy?”

“I don’t know,” Prompto admitted with eyes casting downward. “I met him here yesterday, and I didn’t catch his name.”

Gladiolus and Ignis looked at him for a moment and then at each other. Ignis spoke up first, “Could it be who we are both thinking of?”

“Hasta’ be! I did see them talkin’ yesterday.”

The two older men looked back at him and unison said, “Noct.”

“Noct?” Prompto repeated.  

“Yes. Well, his full name is, Noctis. Gladiolus and I have known him since we kids.” Ignis explained.  “He lived here in Lucis most his life but moved to Altissia for a while due to his father’s work. He just recently came back for college. Not sure why he didn’t come back his freshman year.”

“Yeah, he came back… almost a month ago?” Gladiolus looked puzzledly at Prompto. “Surprised you two haven’t met till now, you both go to the same University, and hang around here.”

Prompto thought about it a moment. It was a little strange, he practically knew everyone or at least their faces. He was sure as hell he’d remember a face like Noct’s.

“Noct does go to the private side of IU. Prompto probably goes to the normal side.”  Ignis rubbed his chin. “You know, that would explain his behavior change and flushed face when he left yesterday.”  

“Well, speak of the devil. Guess we’re going to find out if he’s a love stricken pup or not right now.”

Prompto felt his heart leap into his throat, he peered out the front door behind him. It was him, Noctis. He looked as good as yesterday, no actually… he looked more handsome. Was that even possible, to get handsome in one day? He looked away, feeling his cheeks grow warm.

“G’morning Gladio, specs.” Noctis greeted as he entered the shop.

“Morning.” the two reply.

Prompto suddenly felt Noctis’ eyes on him. He took a large gulp of his coffee as if it were going to calm his fried nerves.

“Morning, chocobutt.” Maybe it’s just him, but Prompto swears Noctis greeted him in a more gentler way.

“Good morning, stranger.” Prompto manages to get out, turning towards him.

“Noctis, don’t be rude,” Ignis scolded. Prompto actually doesn’t mind the nickname all that much, it’s starting to grow on him. “Noctis, this is Prompto. Prompto, this is Noctis.”

Noctis smiled and extended out one of his hands, “Nice to meet you, Prompto.”

Prompto found himself smiling back, “Likewise.” he replied, taking Noctis’ hand in his.

In that very moment that he took his hand, everything felt like it… clicked. There was no doubt in his mind now; he really had fallen in love. As crazy and far-fetched as it seemed, he was already crazy about Noct. He was someone he wanted to be with, he wanted to learn about, to explore with, to hug, to kiss, to cherish. He didn’t want to ever let go of his hand.

“Yeah, it’s obvious,” Gladiolus said to Ignis.

“Quite,” Ignis agreed, with a nod of his head. “This shall be interesting.”

[folklore-musings]

Camera Shy (Part One)

AU. Jughead is an aspiring photographer. His final project requires him to shoot nude photos of someone who inspires him. With no one else to ask Jughead asks Betty. Insecure of her body Betty is quick to shoot the idea down, until Jughead reminds her that she owes him. - Bughead leading to eventual smut.

Read on AO3 here

A/N - I’m terrible with summaries but I hope you guys like this. This idea came to me a few days ago when the Cole photographer photoset was going around. Enjoy! 

Betty sits at their usual table in the library, tapping her pen against her notebook as she waits for Jughead to meet her. He’d texted her a while ago mentioning that he had something important to ask her.

Every few seconds Betty’s eyes glance towards the door, wondering where the hell he could be. She was going to be late for her Women’s Studies class. She was never late for anything – a characteristic she was proud of.

Another five minutes flew by and she just couldn’t wait any longer. Betty starts to pack up and leave just as Jughead stalks over to her table, trying to catch his breath. “What did you do, run here?” She asks, shuffling her notebooks into her backpack.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “I can’t feel my toes it’s so fucking cold out there.” It’s the middle of March and spring is close on the horizon, but Mother Nature wasn’t getting the picture. Jughead brushes the snow off his beanie and rubs his hands together, using the friction to regain the feeling in his fingers.

Betty looks at him with a hint of annoyance on her lips. “What was so important that I had to meet you here, when you know I have a class in ten minutes?”

Jughead sits down across from her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I have a favor to ask you.” He clears his throat. “Before you say no, just hear me out. Can you do that for me?”

Betty nods, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Sure Jug, but you know I’d do anything for you.”

“Don’t speak too soon Betts,” Jughead shakes his head and continues on. “I received the final project for my Photography class and well, it includes having to capture nude photographs of someone who inspires us.” Betty’s cheeks flush. There is no way he expects her to take her clothes off for him, especially in front of a 1080 pixel lens. “I was wondering if you would possibly consider modeling for me. I can’t ask Archie, because that’d just be weird. And I know Veronica agree to it, but I don’t want to cause any tension between her and Archie. So that leaves me with you. Plus, you kind of owe me.”

She scoffs. “Excuse me? What do I owe you for?”

“Don’t you remember senior year and all those late nights I spent helping you write and rewrite your thesis until it was absolutely perfect?” Betty drops her eyes from his steely blue gaze, the memories resurfacing. She’d never drank as much coffee as she did those last few weeks before obtaining her bachelor’s degree.

“Yes,” she mumbles through tight lips. “But that’s different. I didn’t ask you to take your clothes off and pose like the statue of David.”

Jughead exhales deeply. “No, that you didn’t. But if you had asked me to, I would’ve.”

“Bullshit.” Betty says, standing up and tossing her bag over her shoulder. “I’m sorry Jug, but I’ve gotta get to class. I’ll see you back at the apartment later.”

He lifts the beanie off his head and shakes the remaining slush from his hair. “Fine. At least promise me you’ll think about it, alright?”

Betty nods and looks at her watch. “Okay I will but I really need to go.” She pulls her hood on over her ponytail and dashes out of the library, thanking each and every God she knows that her class is in the next building over. If she sprints she knows she can make it on time.

She slips into her seat seconds before her professor starts to lecture. Betty struggles to free herself from her jacket, sweating despite the below freezing temperature outside, earning herself some glares from her surrounding classmates. Hastily, she digs her notebook out from her backpack and begins to scribble the notes posted up on the screen.

Throughout the entire lecture Betty is unable to keep her focus on the board ahead. Instead she finds herself scanning her eyes around the hallowed auditorium. The lighting is harsh and the room is too hot for her liking. Her sweater clings to her skin in the most uncomfortable of ways. Betty groans under her breath. Why does Jughead always have to do this to her?

His bad timing is impeccable. Betty barely hears a word her professor rambles about, too occupied with the thought of Jughead’s request. She’s not even comfortable looking at herself in the mirror naked, let alone having Jughead snap nude photos of her for a class project. Retrieving her phone from her bag she texts Veronica all about the situation, wanting to know her friend’s take on the idea.

Ronnie: I say go for it.

Betty: Easy for you to say, he didn’t ask you.

Ronnie: Ahh, but he considered me and chose you instead. Maybe he secretly wants to see you naked?

Betty: I highly doubt it. He’s never once shown any interest in me or my body, V

Ronnie: Say what you will, but I think you should do it. With your body and those cheekbones? Hell his professor will probably be knocking down your door to see the real deal.

Betty: Please don’t say that.

Ronnie: Betty I’m kidding. Just try it out, OK? Do a test run. You may be more comfortable in your own skin than you think.

Betty sets her phone down and stares at the nearly blank notebook page in front of her. She draws her lip between her teeth and sighs. She is going to kill Jug for dropping such a bomb of a question on her before class. She shouldn’t have bothered to come at all with the way her mind is reeling, feeling a little claustrophobic in her own skin.

She glances around the room for a clock, forgetting the watch she has clasped around her wrist. Unable to locate one, she picks up her phone and checks the time. Betty still has over an hour left of lecture and she can’t find any willpower to concentrate. Quietly, she packs up her things and sneaks out the back door, softly closing it shut behind her.

She grabs her phone from her bag, dialing Jughead’s number as she walks down the snow covered path leading to their apartment just outside of campus. “Pick up,” she mumbles under her breath, making sure not slip on the ice hidden beneath the snow. The wind whistles in her ears, burning her cheeks and making it hard for her to breathe.

“Hello,” Jughead answers on the fourth ring.

“Took you long enough,” Betty breathes into her receiver.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

Betty huffs and puffs; reaching the part of the path that breaks off into an incline. She really wishes she would’ve worn her boots today instead of her sneakers. “Yeah I am. I was a little too distracted though, thanks to a certain someone.” She’s gasping for breath into the receiver, pretty sure her phone is permanently frozen to the side of her face.

“Shit Betty I’m sorry. I should’ve waited to ask you. Are you on your way home?”

Betty nods, realizing he can’t actually see her. “Yeah, I am. Want to order some takeout? I’m sure Chinese doesn’t cover the cost of the class I just missed though.”

Jughead laughs and Betty feels her knees quake at the sound. “I will buy you all the Chinese you want. Lo Mein and Sesame chicken as per usual?”

Betty grins, he knew her so well. “Yes please. And extra brownie points if I get to have both fortune cookies.”

The line goes quiet, Betty quick to assume that the call must have dropped. She’s about to put her phone away before she hears him speak. “You drive a hard bargain Cooper. I’ll see you in a few.”

“Thanks Jug!” Betty hangs up the phone and shoves it in the back pocket of her jeans. She can see their apartment complex from where she stands, guessing she has about a half mile to go before she’s home. Despite the snow, the sidewalk is littered with footprints, creating a cushion for each step she takes, saving her from the ice that hides below.

Once she’s home she stomps her shoes on the welcome rug, shaking off any lingering slush. She’s soaked through to the bone. Desperately craving warmth she decides to shower while Jughead’s out picking up their dinner.

Betty leans in past the curtain and turns the knob for the shower, letting it heat up while she undresses. Before stepping in she looks in the mirror, studying her body in a way she hadn’t before. Her shoulders were too broad and her breasts were too small. She traces the curve of her jaw, wishing her chin wasn’t so pointy and angular. Standing there staring at her reflection, she’s suddenly hyperaware of the flaws her body possesses. There is no way she could pose in front of Jughead, completely unguarded and exposed. She rarely enjoys being photographed with her clothes on. She can’t imagine having to take them off.

The bathroom mirror begins to fog, steaming over with tiny water droplets. Sighing, Betty rips her ponytail from her hair and steps inside, letting the hot water wash away her insecurities.

[nyami-tee]

hidden by a quiet wonder

Before he can leave, Iwaizumi’s voice stops him, loud and clear. “Have you ever read The Little Prince?”

Tooru shakes his head. “I had a copy when I was younger, but I never read it.”

Iwaizumi smiles, crooked and sweet. “I recommend it.”

(alternatively: the one where oikawa reads a book and gets more than he bargains for

also: oikawa’s birthday fic)

read on ao3 or under the cut

“Back again, I see.”

Tooru looks up from the shelves to meet hazel eyes. He smiles sheepishly, finger tracing the spines of the books absentmindedly. The owner, Sugawara doesn’t look angry. Surprised, maybe, but there’s a fondness in his eyes that suggests this isn’t the first time a customer has come back looking for more.

“If you wanted similar genres to the ones you took out last week, I could find some,” Suga offers, and Tooru shrugs.

In all honesty, he’d only come back because his English seminar required him to find an obscure book to analyze for his next paper, and since Karasuno Books was the closest bookstore to his dorm, he naturally chose it.

“Actually, I’m just browsing,” Tooru says, one eyebrow raised in defiance. He doesn’t like people interfering with his business, and he won’t let Suga of all people be the first in a while to break the wall.

Suga looks unimpressed, one hand resting against the wooden bookshelf as he leans on it. He stares at Tooru for three long seconds before he reaches up and grabs a book off the shelf, seemingly at random. He dusts off the cover, reads the title and nods affirmatively. Looking up, he holds out the book, shaking it enticingly until Tooru grabs it. Sharing one last glance with Suga, he tentatively looks down at the book. Gold flashes back at him accompanies with teal blue. The title stares up at him.

“ _ The Song of Achilles _ ?” Tooru looks up. “I’m sorry, I think you’ve mistaken me for another customer. I’m just...browsing.”

“Browsing,” Suga repeats, deadpan. “Of course. I know for a fact that you’re here for a book, specifically for the paper that Takeda-sensei wants due in two weeks.” At Tooru’s dumbfounded stare, he laughs. “I’m not a stalker, don’t worry. You’re the fifth person in here who’s looked perpetually lost. That and Bokuto’s in your class. He’s been talking nonstop about the class for weeks.”

Tooru knows of Bokuto. He’s loud and slightly obnoxious and sits two rows in front of Tooru, right next to Kuroo Tetsurou. If asked, Tooru doesn’t admit that the reason he dislikes Bokuto Koutarou is that he indirectly stole his best friend Kuroo Tetsurou. Not at all.

Tooru sends Suga a bright smile. “Wow, how...refreshing.” He gestures to the book. “Thanks, by the way, Suga-chan!”

Suga smiles, knowing and bright. “Glad to be of help! Now if you want to buy it, I’ll ring it up for you.”

Tooru nods, his fake smile pinching the corners of his face. “Gladly.”

 When Tooru gets back to his dorm, he’s not entirely surprised to see an ambiguous figure on the couch. He stares at the lump for a few long moments, willing it away with his stare before he relents, slipping off his shoes and hanging his coat by the door. He doesn’t say anything, just waddles over to the couch and sits down on the lump, harder than necessary.

There’s aloud howl before he’s rudely pushed off of his own couch and onto the floor. Angrily he hits the lump with the bag containing the book, earning a hiss and loud, prolonged “fuck”.

“ _ What is wrong with you _ ?” Kuroo hisses as he extracts the blanket from his head. Tooru crosses his arms and pouts.

“You’re the one going into people’s houses uninvited!” Tooru shoots back. He retrieves his book and sits next to Kuroo. “Besides, I thought you were having so much fun with Bokuto and Sawamura to spend time with me.”

Kuroo runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Fuck, you’re still not on about that, are you?” He looks at Tooru, arms splayed across the back of the sofa. “The semester started three months ago, and I’ve offered multiple times for you to come sit with us.”

Tooru rolls his eyes. It’s been an ongoing argument: the dilemma with Kuroo and his friend Bokuto. Since Kuroo and Tooru were childhood friends, he’d thought that they’d naturally sit together during the one class they shared since first year. However, the minute Bokuto and Kuroo saw each other, they’d automatically gravitated towards each other, leaving Tooru sitting next to the perpetually grumpy blond kid. He’s not angry, but he’s had an inclination to being petty and dragging things on for longer than they need to be.

“Whatever,” Tooru grumbles. Turning, he sits horizontally on the sofa, pressing his legs onto Kuroo’s lap. Kuroo sighs but allows it, hands immediately going for the remote. He flips through multiple drama channels before he lands on a volleyball match. Tooru looks up for a moment, spies the unruly hair of his high school rival and scowls. He opens the bag and carefully extracts the book.

The sound of the plastic attracts Kuroo’s attention and he looks over. At the sight of the book, he pales. “Shit.”

Tooru turns the book in his hands. “What?”

“We have that assignment,” Kuroo says the words slowly, as if he’s willing them to be untrue. “We had to pick our books by today. We had to tell Takeda and Iwaizumi our selections.”

Tooru nods, eyes glinting mischievously. “You would’ve known if you didn’t spend all your time talking to Bokuto.”

Kuroo runs a hand over his face, expression verging on a mental breakdown. “Oikawa. Shut the fuck up.” He sits quietly for a moment, expression darkening. Tooru watches the volleyball match with mild interest, stifling his laughter. It doesn’t take long for Kuroo to formulate a solution. He stares at the book in Tooru’s hand for a moment before his smile is back.

“Where did you get your book?”

Tooru, who had anticipated the answer, sends his own sly smile. “I’m not telling you.”

“Bastard,” Kuroo growls, hands reaching for the book. Tooru squirms out of his reach. “Give me the book!” Tooru barely manages to get away before Kuroo’s hands are dragging his legs, long limbs reaching for the plastic bag. Tooru’s reaction time is late, and after a failed pseudo sit up, he falls, landing presumptuously on his face. He watches as Kuroo turns the plastic bag, eyes falling on Karasuno Books’ logo. In seconds his face goes from pained to excited.

“Holy shit!” He jumps up, effectively throwing Oikawa’s legs onto the floor. For a moment, Tooru wonders how he had gotten here, on the floor of his own house. “This is Daichi’s store!”

“Daichi?” Tooru mumbles, voice partially muffled by the floor. He turns so his back is flush with the hardwood. “Sawamura Daichi? As in, your boyfriend Sawamura Daichi?”

Kuroo nods, hands crumpling the bag. “Yeah, it’s a family business but since he’s working to get his graduate done, he’s given temporary management to a family friend.”

Tooru lets this sink in before he looks up. He’s met with a very unattractive view of Kuroo Tetsurou. “Wait, Refreshing-kun and Sawamura know each other?”

Kuroo looks down. “High school.”

“Oh.”

“So, like, did you pick out that book or…”

“Refreshing-kun picked it out for me.” Tooru sits up so at least he has some sort of dignity left. “He took one look at me, and then picked it out. Almost like magic.”

“That’s Suga for you,” Kuroo laughs. He stands up and heads to the door. “By any chance, do you think they’re still open?”

“Maybe,” Tooru hums, he stops when Kuroo opens the door. “What--you _ bastard _ , you can’t just come in here and leave like a stray cat!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Oikawa!” Kuroo calls as he leaves. His signature smirk is back on his face.

“At least _ give me back my keys _ !”

The door slams with a sense of finality.

They both know that’s not going to happen anytime soon.

 Surprisingly, it takes Tooru a full week before he has any qualms to reading the book. Reality hits him in the face in the middle of class when Takeda-sensei kindly reminds them that their papers are due in five days. Tooru, who had been admiring the TA’s arm muscles had nearly fallen out of his seat in surprise.

Two hours later finds him at Karasuno, head in his hands. In front of him, Kuroo grins, sipping leisurely on his pocari. They stare at each other for a moment before Kuroo smirks, hands capping the drink in his hands.

“You know, you wouldn’t be in this situation if you didn’t stare at Iwaizumi’s arms all day.”

Tooru fixes him with a deadpan stare, hands coming down to sit at his lap. “And how, pray tell, do the TA’s arm correlate to my dilemma?”

“Well,” Kuroo begins.

“Did he forcibly take away my book?”

“No.”

“Did he directly influence me into not reading my book?”

“Well, no.”

“Then how?” Tooru snarls. Kuroo looks at his pocari sheepishly, hands coming to cross over his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, Tooru watches Sawamura and Suga slip into the room, eyes flitting between the two of them nervously.

It’s Sugawara who breaks the silence. He smiles, gently pushing Kuroo out of Tooru’s personal space. Opening the blinds, he sends Tooru a smile. “Why don’t we just leave you here to read? We’ll be in the back room if you need us.”

Tooru looks up, a small smile inching onto his face. “Thanks, Refreshing-kun.” He watches them leave, Kuroo being towed by a slightly scowling Sawamura. Taking a deep breath, he puts his headphones in and opens the book ready to read.

Except that’s not what happens because the title page is littered with annotations.

Tooru gapes, looking at the myriad of blue and black ink. Bringing the book up to his face, he tries to make out the words written in the messy scrawl. Various statements about the theme, motifs and characters are described, and most importantly discussed. The writer’s words have a dry, witty humor to them, and it takes Tooru a moment to flip the page.

The next page looks almost identical to the first, the pages annotated with great detail, pointing out the nuances within the texts, the subtleties that make the writing more descriptive and alluring than they originally must have been. Tooru takes his time reading, taking in the story of Achilles and Patroclus, and digests the insight that the scrawled ink leads him to. Little by little Tooru falls in love with the book, with the words that bring a heaviness to his heart. He doesn’t know how long he sits in the chair, reading of the battle with Hector, the maturity of both Achilles and his partner.

He reads of pride, of sacrifice. He marvels at Brises and her strength, learns from Chiron and his wisdom. He grows alongside Patroclus, who altruistically gives everything, even his life, to Achilles. He seethes at Agamemnon's stubbornness and recoils at Achilles’ pride. Most of all, he falls in love. He cherishes the characters within his heart, feels their heartbreak, their sorrow. He experiences their strife and relishes in their love. And when Patroclus and Achilles meet again, he cries.

He rereads the book again, this time paying attention to the annotations. Whoever had annotated this had an adept understanding of the themes within the book and pointed out specific techniques that the author used in order to evoke emotion. The in depth analysis makes Tooru appreciate the book more, and he finds himself understanding the text more, thanks to the annotator.

Once he reaches the final page, he sees a smudge of blue, under his thumb. Carefully, he peers at it, trying to make out the characters. Belatedly, he realizes it’s a name. The first part is smudged beyond recognition, but he can read the first name clearly.

_ Hajime. _

Tooru smiles.

He writes his paper relatively quickly and hands it in before the deadline. However, he pulls an all-nighter to do it, ideas in his head still fresh in his head. As a result, he’s lethargic the next day in class and falls asleep during Takeda’s lecture on the importance of classical literature in modern society.

He wakes up an hour later to a hand on his head and green eyes centimeters from his. Jolting, he leans back into his chair, recoiling from the close proximity of the other person. It takes a moment for him to realize that the other person is Iwaizumi, and another to realize that class ended a half hour ago.

“Holy--” Tooru begins, standing. He quickly gathers his things, stuffing them haphazardly into his bag. Iwaizumi leans back, mouth quirked up in amusement. “I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t sweat it,” Iwaizumi replies, and his voice is deep and soothing, and the source of many of Tooru’s most loved lectures. “Rough night, huh?”

Tooru nods as he zips up his bag. “I’d say I was partying to make it interesting; however, I was just writing the essay.”

Iwaizumi quirks an eyebrow. “The essay? Like, the paper that’s due in a couple of days?” At Tooru’s nod, he whistles lowly. “Damn. Most people would cram the whole thing the night before the deadline, not days before.”

Tooru rolls his eyes. “Yeah, like you ever cram.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tooru shoots Iwaizumi a disbelieving glare. He gestures in Iwaizumi’s general direction. “Look at you, Iwa-chan. You look like the pristine student who never does anything late. You probably hand everything in days in advance.”

Iwaizumi frowns. “Iwa-chan?”

Tooru freezes. He runs a hand sheepishly through his hair before he lets out a short, uncomfortable laugh. “I’m sorry is that too much?”

“No,” Iwaizumi says, mouth curling into a smile. “I mean, it’s annoying, but it’s a slip so it’s not that bad. Also, god, you’ve never been more wrong. Deadlines are my worst.”

“Really?” Tooru hums, adjusting the straps of his bag. “So you hand things in late?”

“More like borderline late,” Iwaizumi laughs. “I manage to get everything in a minute before it’s due. I’m good at formulating ideas and understanding texts and shit, but compiling all those ideas into a paper with one centralized topic? That’s too much for me.”

Tooru laughs. “Really? For me, it’s the opposite. I can’t understand texts that easily, but I can write anything as long as I have a topic and some background knowledge.”

“Damn,” Iwaizumi grins. “I wish I could do that.”

The two fall silent after that. It’s comfortable, familiar, and Tooru wonders why he hasn’t gone up to him before and striked up a conversation. He’s seen Bokuto do it multiple times, has seen the shy girl who sits in the front row do it as well. He’s obviously been missing out because Iwaizumi is so much more than just a pair of well-built arms.

They’re interrupted by the door opening. Takeda sticks his head into the room and makes eye contact with Iwaizumi, a bright smile on his face.

“Ah, Iwaizumi-san! I was wondering if you’d want to lead the lecture for the next class? Keishin’s got a little emergency with Shouyou so I’ve gotta head home and fix that.”

Iwaizumi nods, arms coming up to cross against his chest. “Yeah for sure. Just leave your notes on the desk before you leave.”

“Of course!” Takeda fixes his tie. “Thank you so much!”

“No problem, sensei.” Iwaizumi watches as Takeda closes the door, actions as rushed as his words. At the sound of the door closing Iwaizumi turns his head, green eyes regarding Tooru carefully. “I guess I’ve gotta go prep for the next class.”

“Yes!” Tooru says, too quick, too loud. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah, of course,” Iwaizumi replies, a smile on his face. Tooru turns to leave before he's stopped by a hand. “Wait, you forgot this.”

Tooru turns to find Iwaizumi holding his copy of _ The Song of Achilles _ . He’s looking at it fondly, thumb rifling through the pages until he stops on a random page. There’s something in his expression that Tooru can’t exactly page. He stares at the page for a moment longer before he closes the book and returns it to Tooru.

“You annotate a lot for someone who doesn’t formulate ideas quickly.” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Those aren’t my annotations,” Tooru explains. “I got the book from Karasuno and, I don’t know, the annotations helped me a lot.”

Iwaizumi nods, eyes glinting with amusement. “I see.”

Tooru offers one last wave before he walks towards the door. Before he can leave, Iwaizumi’s voice stops him, loud and clear. “Have you ever read _ The Little Prince _ ?”

Tooru shakes his head. “I had a copy when I was younger, but I never read it.”

Iwaizumi smiles, crooked and sweet. “I recommend it.”

 Later, Sugawara finds the book perched up on one of the higher shelves. He hands it to Tooru with a small smile. When Tooru opens it in the comfort of his room, he’s surprised to find the book annotated.

At the end, there’s the name again.

_ Hajime _ .

 In all honestly the books give him insight on what kind of person Hajime is. From his annotations, Tooru can deduce that he doesn’t quite like romance. He appreciates it but doesn’t like it when it gets frivolous. He enjoys the sentimental value within books, appreciates the little things that the author puts into the books to make it more relatable. His words resonate with Tooru, much like the book does in the end.

_ The Little Prince _ is simple and heartbreaking. Tooru reads the book quickly. At the end of his first read, he thinks he read it wrong and rereads it over and over again until his vision is blurred with tears. Hajime’s annotations don’t help; rather, they pierce his very soul, offering pieces of the text that Tooru hadn’t noticed before. It’s beautiful, yet heartbreaking and he relives it with every read.

The story doesn’t leave his mind for a long time, and he spends his night looking up at the stars from his apartment window.

English class comes achingly slow, and to make things better, Iwaizumi leads the lecture, his voice booming through the hall. Unlike Takeda, Iwaizumi’s voice makes Tooru want to listen. The deep timbre and slight huskiness in his voice makes Tooru attentive and takes away all qualms of him falling asleep in class. Rather, he takes in every detail of the lecture Iwaizumi gives on modern literature and the influence of Shakespeare.

It isn’t until the end of the class that Tooru lingers, eyes trailing on Iwaizumi’s figure. It takes a moment, but once everyone filters out of the classroom, Tooru knocks on the door frame, causing Iwaizumi to jump up in surprise.

“Oikawa,” he says, a slight smile on his face. “How can I help you?”

“I read _ The Little Prince, _ ” Tooru says by way of explanation. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi leans against the desk, a smile on his face. “Simple and elegant. I knew you’d like it.”

“Really,” Tooru muses, a smile on his face. “Any other recommendations?”

Iwaizumi purses his lips for a moment before he snaps his fingers. “Something a little different: _ Milk and Honey _ .”

Tooru nods as he leaves.

Once again, the pages are annotated thoroughly; however, Hajime’s words are more subdued, more emotional than analytical. Tooru is mesmerized not only by the raw feelings expressed in the poetry but also within Hajime’s words.

It’s a story of heartbreak, of healing.

It’s a story that Tooru reads over and over again, letting the words wash over him. He reads the annotations, relating them to stories he’s heard in real life. He reads over a section that makes him pause.

_ Poetry is the window to the soul _ , Hajime had written in pencil. It’s slightly smudged and hidden near the spine of the book, but Tooru reads it anyways. _ It reflects the feelings of a person, their raw emotion _ .

Tooru has heard those words before.

_ Milk and Honey _ is not only a book about growth, about love. It’s the book that makes Tooru fall harder for the annotator, lets the words wash over his heart over and over until he’s filled with giddy admiration.

It’s the book where he realizes Iwaizumi is Hajime.

When he arrives to class on Monday, Iwaizumi isn’t there.

He’s not there on Tuesday either, or Wednesday, and on Thursday Takeda dismisses the class early due to another incident with his son. Tooru leaves quietly with Kuroo.

“Daichi’s brewing tea at Karasuno,” Kuroo says as they leave the classroom. “Do you want to come?”

Tooru shrugs. It’s about time he stopped moping anyways. “Yeah, sure.”

The two walk silently to the small book store. When they open the door, Sugawara’s there to greet them, eyes widening in surprise when he sees Tooru.

“Welcome!” he greets. “Oikawa, I have a delivery for you!” He brings out a package and hands it to Tooru. “Somebody bought you a book.”

Tooru doesn’t waste time in unwrapping the package, and it’s only moments until the cover of _ The Secret History _ stares back at him. Tooru makes his way to the alcove next to the store, resumes his spot by the window and begins to read.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen Oikawa excited by a book,” Kuroo comments.

  It’s beautiful. The annotations are thoughtful and insightful and _ new _ .

At the end of the book, there’s a number and a name.

Tooru doesn’t waste time and calls.

  Iwaizumi picks up on the third ring.

“I knew you’d call.”

“Did you?” Tooru asks, laughing. “That was really thoughtful of you.”

“Well,” Iwaizumi replies. “I knew you’d figure out it was me by the third book, so I thought I’d surprise you.”

“You did,” Tooru smiles. “Where are you?”

“I’m at a tournament with the volleyball team,” Iwaizumi replies, a smile in his voice. Tooru grins at that. He’d forgotten Iwaizumi was on the team. “Do you want to meet up when I get back? Bring your books. I’ll annotate them for you.”

Tooru laughs, fingers dancing against the spine. “Yeah. I’d love that.”