#its definitely my fault that the first prompt i finished was day 6

[aq2003]

next couple doctordonna prompts are gonna be a day or two late but GOD i am fucking finishing all 7 of these creatures i am. doing it

[tomthesoftie]

Oh ok yeah thanks #57

taken for granted

a/n: this came out longer than expected, it’s almost 3000 words... this is probably super angsty, maybe... also, i’m going to work on ‘nothing can go wrong’ soon but i have to write two essays for school so i’m sorry if there is a delay... enjoy xx

pairing: mob!tom x reader

warnings: swearing, angsty shit, fluff at the end, mob!tom is a dick

masterlist                     prompt list

57. “Stop pretending you’re okay ‘cause I know you’re not.”

Tom rarely spent any of his time with you now. He was always too preoccupied with his mobster duties. On rare occasions, he would join you in your shared bed, but by the time he arrived, you were already fast asleep. You always tried to fit with his schedule to at least say goodnight to him or wake up to see him by your side, but all your attempts failed. So when Tom said he had a free day, which he could have whenever he wanted seeing he was his own boss, you jumped at the opportunity.

You woke, bundled in the white sheets, yawning and stretching before looking to the usually empty space beside you. Tom laid there, curls tousled and chest heaving peacefully. You felt a warmth in your core, and you smiled. 

You decided to get ready for your day with your boyfriend, preparing brunch and a list of things you could do together in your single day together.

things to do:

1. eat brunch together

2. go out on a romantic walk

3. have afternoon tea

4. come back home and make cookies together

5. watch a movie

6. make a surprise dinner for tom

7. snuggle and let the rest of the night flow as it goes

Tom sat up on the bed, stretching his arms while letting out a loud yawn. He hadn’t slept this well in a while. 

A delectable aroma blew into the room, tickling his nose. He breathed in the scent, following it to its source. He stared at the table of his favorite foods displayed in front of him. 

You entered the dining room holding another plate of food. You placed the platter neatly between two other plates, finishing off your first surprise for Tom.

“Christ, darling, what’s all this for?” Tom spoke.

You jumped, not realizing he had been standing there, “Oh my goodness, Thomas, you scared me,” you looked at the food, “It’s all for you. I wanted to make your day off enjoyable. Besides, we haven’t spent much time together in a while.”

He smiled, “I love you so much.”

Blushing, you replied, “I love you, too. Now let’s eat.”

Brunch was pleasant but awkward. You didn’t know what to talk about with him, so you resorted to staring at him while he ranted about problems. It wasn’t that you didn’t care for his problems, but you wanted this day to be about the both of you. You plastered a genuine smile on your face, though it began to falter.

“I was thinking that we could go out to town and just walk around, that is if you want,” you suggested when the two of you finished your meal.

“O-Oh, um, sure. Let me go get ready, love,” he walked over to you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before quietly thanking you.

His small signs of affection were enough to erase your worries. You told yourself you overreacted about him talking about himself at breakfast. He did care.

-

Hand in hand, you and Tom strolled through the crowded streets of Kingston upon Thames. You admired the beautiful city, feeling lucky to be able to live there. 

More than you wanted, Tom’s attention went to his phone. He laughed and smiled at whatever was on his phone. He typed away, glowing with happiness.

You felt a pang of jealousy.

Who could be making Tom feel like this? He seems to be enjoying his day more with the person throw his screen than the one right beside him. You thought to yourself, grip loosening on his hand.

He didn’t notice the change, and you frowned. Your boyfriend was glowing with happiness, and you would be a bad girlfriend if you ruined it. You put on a fake smile, hoping it would convince him even though he hadn’t looked at you at all since brunch.

He cares, you convinced yourself.

“Um, Tom?” You asked, seeing the tea house you were planning to get afternoon tea at.

“Mhm?” His eyes were locked on his phone.

“I was thinking that we could get some afternoon tea. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you tried to look him in the eyes, only to fail miserably.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you want,” he mumbled.

Still holding his hand, you pulled him to the building. The receptionist looked at Tom then to you, noticing the lack of attention he was giving you. You tried to smile it off, but she gave you a look of sympathy before bringing you to your table.

It was a shame Tom’s eyes were glued to the screen of his phone. The table you’d gotten had a perfect view of River Thames. 

“Tom,” you squeaked.

He didn’t respond.

“Tom,” you said louder.

Still no answer.

“Tom,” you said in a demanding voice.

His head snapped up, “What?”

You sighed. This day was definitely going unexpectedly. The worse part about it all was that you wanted the day to be over. You were mad at yourself for that. He cares about you, so why couldn’t you care about him?

“D’you like how the day’s going?” You asked in a softer tone.

“Mhm, great,” he said flatly.

You didn’t know what else to say, so you let him go back to ogling his phone. You wanted to cry. The only day you had with him, wasted.

Tears filled your eyes, feeling ignored by Tom. To avoid tears from rolling down your cheeks and exposing your true feelings about how the day was going, you dismissed yourself to the ladies room. 

Tom heard the rawness in your voice and looked up. Your head was down as you excused yourself. He carefully watched you as you quickly scattered away. He heard a sniffle but doubted that it came from you. You were the one who dragged him along, anyways.

-

You were thankful to be back home. You didn’t feel like preparing a grand dinner anymore. You felt like going to sleep and end the day. 

Goddamnit, Y/N! Pull yourself together. He’s always putting you on top. You need to put him on top now, you scolded yourself.

Trying to muster up all the remaining sanity in you, you headed to the kitchen and worked away. 

Hours passed as you prepared the meal. You made sure nothing went wrong, working slowly. With precision, you plated each meal. Your hands shook, and you droplets of sweat rolled down your forehead. 

“Done,” you murmured to yourself, smiling.

Everything looked beautifully put together, as you were an amateur. You gave yourself a small pat on the back. Then it struck you. You missed some things on your list.

4. come back home and make cookies together

5. watch a movie

You slapped your forehead. Where had the time gone? You felt terrible. You missed a couple hours of spending time with your boyfriend. Hopefully the dinner would make up for it.

-

Unsurprisingly, dinner wasn’t much different from the rest of the day. You were thrown to the side while he enjoyed himself.

No, he hasn’t had the time to relax and enjoy himself in a while. I can’t blame him for that, you sighed, I just wish he would enjoy and relax with me.

“Thanks for the dinner, darling. It was... delicious,” he hesitated.

Your attention moved to him. You gave him a small smile, feeling slightly offended by his hesitation.

He left the room, moving to the living room. You were left to do all the dishes and work by yourself. 

Great.

-

You stepped out of the shower, drying yourself off. You slipped on Tom’s oversized shirt, wearing a matching set of lingerie underneath. You hoped it was enough to grab his attention.

You heard murmuring downstairs. You walked down the stairs, seeing Tom on the couch with Tuwaine, Harrison, and Harry.

“H-Hello, boys,” you said, catching their attention. “Sorry about my - um - improper outfit. I didn’t know you’d be coming over.”

“S’alright, love. Mind getting us some wine, though?” Harrison asked, smirking.

“But-- I-- Sure,” you said pathetically.

You brought them four glasses and an expensive bottle of wine, opened of course. 

You settled beside Tom, who inched away from you. It struck your heart.

“Don’t you think you should at least go get properly dressed before joining us?” He glared at you.

“O-Oh, sorry,” you whispered, feeling a tug at your heart. “I think I’ll be heading to bed now. Goodnight,” you announced, walking away in a rush.

You rushed up the stairs only to hear Tom complain, “She gets so clingy and annoying.”

Tears poured down your cheeks. A silent sob ripped from your lips. You ran to the room, tripping over yourself several times.

He didn’t care at all. He cares about himself. Only him, you realized.

-

“Mate, she’s your girlfriend. She cares about you. You shouldn’t say that shit about her,” Tuwaine said, feeling sympathy for the girl.

“It’s true, she’s been clinging to my ass all day,” Tom groaned.

“Have you gone out with her recently? Talked to her, at least?” Harrison asked.

Tom didn’t respond, keeping his eyes trained on the bottles of wine ahead of him. That answered enough.

“Tom, did you think that she just missed you?” Harry interrupted the silence.

“Just drop it, guys,” Tom snapped, starting to feel slightly guilty. 

-

You laid in your shared bed, holding yourself in your arms. The blanket wrapped around your body as a shield. 

Quiet sobs escaped your mouth, tears rolling onto your pillow. You were offended Tom would call you ‘clingy’ and ‘annoying.’ You tried so hard to make this day good for him, and he thinks you’re clingy.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, happy that Tom didn’t come to bed before you fell asleep for once. 

-

Tuwaine, Harry, and Haz left after a couple wines. They tried to convince him to treat you better but only received the response, “Let’s talk about something else.”

Tom had seen his own faults after a long, irritating talk with the boys. He was being an ass to you for no reason.

He hurried up the stairs after putting all the dishes into the sink, hoping to catch you awake. To his dismay, you were already out. Tear streaks decorated your puffy face while some new tears slowly moved down your face.

He placed a pained kiss to your forehead. You stirred, moving into his familiar touch. A small smile danced on your lips. His hand moved to caress your cheek, admiring your beauty even when you were in pain.

Without waking you, he slid into the space beside you in bed. He held your waist, nuzzling his face in your neck. You pressed against him, attracted to the heat. He smiled and leaned to kiss your head again.

“Goodnight, darling,” he whispered before drifting to sleep.

-

You woke up with a pounding headache. You tried to sit up but something, or someone, held you down. You looked at the warm figure holding you and saw Tom with his arms wrapped around you. You felt a sting in your chest and tried to pull away. 

You were able to maneuver out of his arms without waking him.

Dizzily, you made your way to the kitchen. You got yourself a cup of water and took some pain relievers. You plopped onto the couch lying on your side. Your legs tucked, and you curled your body into a ball. Without knowing, you fell asleep not too long after.

-

Tom noticed you were out of bed when he woke.

“Darling?” He mumbled, looking around.

With no response, he assumed you had gone to the kitchen for breakfast.

He dragged himself out of bed and headed to the kitchen. Surprisingly, you weren’t there. He saw a cup and pain relievers lying on the counter.

“Princess?” He looked around, still no sight of you.

He walked over to the dining room then to the living room. He saw your limp body on the couch, letting out soft sighs. You were cuddled into a tight ball, shivering from the cold. Picking up a blanket from the room, he draped it over your shaking body. He sat on the couch with you, rubbing your body warm over the blankets. 

-

You felt a weighted cloth enrapture you, giving you warmth. Instinctively, you snuggled into it. A pressure rubbed up and down your arm, further warming you.

You opened your eyes to see Tom hovering over you. You looked closely at him, believing this to be your imagination. Under the sheets, you pinched yourself and felt sharp pains on your arms.

“Ow,” you mumbled.

“Are you alright, love?” Tom asked, worry flooding his features.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you sat up and began to put some distance between the two of you.

“Where are you going?” He scooted closer to you until you had no where else to go.

“I gotta get ready. You should, too, ‘cause, y’know, work,” you fidgeted uncomfortably.

“Wait,” he grabbed your wrist as you began to walk away, “I don’t have to do anything today. I can stay with you.”

“No, it’s alright. Besides, there must be someone to interrogate today,” you snapped, pulling your wrist from his grip.

He didn’t know why your mood had changed. Just yesterday, you were so loving and warm to him. 

Did you overhear him last night? He worried.

“Love,” he knocked on the door, “can I come in?”

He heard a couple of sniffles behind the closed door and frowned to himself.

“Just a sec,” you called out with a pained voice.

Tom could hear your tears in you voice and concerningly asked, “Are you okay in there?”

“Yeah, just fine,” you squeaked, slowly feeling your composure falter.

“Darling, open the door,” he demanded.

“Wait a moment, please,” you said too weakly.

“Open the do-”

“I will,” you snapped, “I’m trying to get ready, s’all,” you replied with a calmer tone.

You heard no response from him and expected that he left, so you jumped when the door was thrown open. The brunette stood in the doorway, staring at your red rimmed eyes.

“Tom, I’m fine,” you wiped away a stray tear, smiling, “See? Perfectly fine.”

“No, you’re not! Stop pretending you’re okay ‘cause I know you’re not,” he growled.

“It’s not much of your problem, is it?” You glared at him, beginning to lose your patience.

“Not much of my problem? How is my girlfriend not my problem? It’s my duty to protect and care for you. Why are you-” He was infuriated.

“Well I wouldn’t want to come off as too clingy! Maybe I don’t want to annoy you!” You shouted.

So you did hear him, Tom sighed.

Seeing the evident guilt and shock in his face, you continued, “That’s right, I heard it. You couldn’t’ve even waited for me to get back to the room! Some boyfriend you are,” you mumbled the end, pushing past him.

“Wait,” he called after you, “I didn’t mean what I said. It was just in the heat of the moment. I was just stressed with everything going with the mob.”

“Right,” you nodded unbelievably.

“Haz and them helped me see that I was the one in the wrong. I shouldn’t have called you that. I’m sorry, love, truly, very sorry,” he pouted at you.

“You really hurt me, Tom. I planned a whole day out for us yesterday. You ignored me for practically the entire day,” you hiccuped, a rush of disappointment filled you.

“I know. I’m so sorry, love. I was such an asshole. You deserve to be treated better. I’ll fix that, I swear. I’ll spend more time with you. We could go on dates again. I’ll even make sure that I’ll go to bed with you,” he carefully walked over to you as if you would run if he got too close.

“But how would I know if you were talking shit about me to your mob cronies?” You asked, doubtful to trust him.

“I’ll personally have Haz, Tuwaine, or Harry slap me if I do, but no need to worry, love, I won’t take you for granted anymore,” he placed a gentle kiss to your head, “Now, would you like to join me for a day of just us?”

You giggled, “No, I wouldn’t,” hurt filled Tom’s features, “I would love to.”

“You’re such a tease,” he chuckled, “but I love you for it.”

You smiled up at him, “I missed having you around, Tommy. I spent so many nights yearning for you.”

“No more nights like that, alright? I’m here til the end of the line,” he answered softly.

-

And so, Tom kept his word. Everything has changed. He became the same Tom that you had met at the coffee shop. You obviously still disagreed with him running the mob, but he would always reassure you, telling you that he wouldn’t leave you.

He didn’t did care after all. He cares about himself the both of us. Only him us, you realized.

[subarubi]

The List

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Everyone’s got a submission to his list. Watch this. Read that. Go there. But you’ve never given him anything. Not a single idea of what it is you like, what makes you feel at home in this world. Never made an effort to bridge the gap between the 40s and now, and yourself and him. And it oddly bothers him.

Word Count: 3.6 k

A/N: this is my very first reader insert i’ve written and am posting, so i’m excited :) appreciate anyone who takes the time to read!

Everyone’s got a submission to his list. 

Watch this. Read that. Eat here. Go there. I Love Lucy. Moon Landing. Berlin Wall. Steve Jobs. Disco. Thai food. Star Wars. Nirvana. Rocky. Troubleman Soundtrack. Things he absolutely must do if he wants to call himself a modern man. Which, he does. But kind of doesn’t? Doesn’t even matter much now anyway.

You don’t.

Have a submission to his list, that is.

You’ve never been talkative anyway, he reasons. You’re quiet, reserved, and a bit of an outsider in this haphazardly thrown together group of extraordinary people. 

Not that you’re ordinary, not in the slightest. You’re a comet. Your power, palpable. A volatile missile, ice and dust carving a hole through space. Nucleus, hard body amalgamation of granite muscle and tungsten bones. Tail, a whipping flurry of wild hair, muted decimation in its wake. No, you are far from ordinary.

You just... stick to the walls.

With arms-- arms he’s seen bring men to their knees-- crossed over your chest, face set in marble. Not unfriendly. You’ll talk nice when prompted, smile when appropriate, but you never initiate. 

You seem to prefer a distance, a line between work life and personal life. A line that just doesn’t exist with the Avengers. Somehow, though, you manage to maintain the separation. Natasha’s prying questions, Stark’s intentional invasions of your personal space, Sam’s harmless but persistent flirting. 

It’s all so easily deflected. 

Made even easier now that the family you’d always resisted has been fractured. 

You don’t care to foster intimate relationships with any of these people. And you definitely don’t care to put in a submission to Captain America’s To-Do List. 

Everyone, everyone has something to add to his list. Even Bucky, Bucky, who has spent the better part of 70 years in and out of cryo, brain pulled apart and replaced with a new, foreign synapse each time, said something about a movie he’d seen somewhere. 

It bothers him. It shouldn’t, but it does. 

Steve can physically feel it--  that’s how much it bothers him. A now permanent path of his eyes to your form in a room. An itch in his fingers for a pen and paper anytime you say anything. A burn on the tops of his ears, hot and red, if you smile softly at some reference he doesn’t understand. Is that a signal? Would that be a suggestion if you actually talked to him?

Regardless, he trusts you. A boundless amount. Unexplainable given just how little the two of you have actually spoken.

You don’t make suggestions for the list, and it only really bothers him because he does trust you. He wants to know what you have to say, what you think is important for him to experience. What you like. If, perhaps, what makes you feel at home in this world could help him too. 

It’s a Thursday and he’s thumbing the pages of his notebook when Natasha gets the idea. 

The quinjet cabin is filled with a heavy, pregnant silence that no one can bear to cut through. Full-term. Unbearable pressure on the sciatic nerve-type silence. 9 months discomfort and anxiety, stifling their words. 

A mission gone right, but leaving a bad taste in their mouths. 

Bucky sits near the front, aimlessly bouncing a tennis ball against the starboard wall. Sam is in the co-pilot seat, trying to read a book with a red cover and yellow spine. Nat’s knuckles turn white on the yoke, keeping the quinjet on track even though it could pretty much fly on its own. 

You like music, Steve thinks. You there now in the back corner-- fingers drumming to the private beat on your thigh, eyes closed and head tipped back, white of earbuds in stark contrast with your dark combat suit-- is a frequent sight. He imagines your recommendation might be an album for him to listen to. 

Steve’s fingers ghost over the familiar scrawl of his list; some crossed out, some recently added. 

He decides it could use more music. 

You should just ask her, Natasha smirks, jutting her chin your direction. When she moved to sit next to him, Steve didn’t know. But, she is, after all, the spy. He’d been otherwise occupied anyway. He lifts his bowed head up to fix her with a puzzled look. Nat gives him that smirk and Steve has to fight back a groan. Knocking her knee against his, she teases,  you know, she can probably feel you staring.

His eyes shoot over in your direction, sighing a little in relief when you seem to still be lost in the music pumping in your ears. Steve realizes Natasha isn’t talking about the list. Years now, and she still hasn’t given up on playing his personal matchmaker. It’s slowed, surely, due to circumstance, but she’s never satisfied. A date. He should ask you on a date, is what she means. He’s suddenly as red in the face as the tips of his ears and Natasha’s hair. 

Steve’s not blind. 

You’re attractive. 

Soft and hard in so many ways. Lips, pink and pillowy and parted ever so slightly. Sharp line of your jaw clenched, brows furrowed. The gentle curve of your neck, warm skin disappearing beneath a dirt stained, hole ridden suit that hasn’t seen mending hands in months. Not since you followed him in his free fall from grace. 

You’d followed. Wordlessly. Burned out, abandoned by coworkers and the public, you resigned yourself to this life of Motel hopping and operating outside of the realm of what’s legal. Though not outside of what’s right.

Pondering what any of that could mean feels forbidden to Steve.

The hard shell of a man, not any less great, but perhaps less sure.

He looks back at Natasha with a low shake of his head, abruptly shutting his notebook. She sighs, but takes the hint. Enough. Not now. 

Almost a year later, he does ‘just ask’. 

It’s kind of like a date, in barely-there ways. You’re left alone, facing each other in a booth, knees brushing. You go to the bathroom, Steve orders for the both of you. Kind of like a date. 

Stuffed in the sticky booth of some diner in Middle America, alone together. Natasha gone off on her own again. Bucky recovering in Wakanda. Sam out like a light on a creaking Motel 6 mattress-- hard, just like he likes it. Your muscles like jelly, stomachs rumbling with the dull ache of hunger, soaked head to toe from the torrential downpour outside. No idle chit chat for you two. Steve stares out the window, impossible blue eyes following the path of a raindrop. You ring the bottom of your shirt out onto the small bit of floor between two pairs of feet. It splatters on the ground loudly. 

Not a date. 

You risk a glance at him over the piping hot brim of your coffee mug. Silently marvel at just how much he’s changed through thin white wisps of steam. More than longer hair, more than a handsome and disguising beard, more than the ripped out star of his suit sitting in a heap on the motel room floor. You can’t say how, it’s more a feeling. 

He’s a lot quieter now. Like you. 

Steve’s always been stoic. Passionate when needs be, but not exactly loose with his emotions; never as restrained now. His voice was always strong and sure, but never quite so gruff from frequent disuse as in this past year. You suppose it’s partially your fault. With Natasha gone much more now and Sam talking enough to carry a conversation himself, you’re not exactly great company. You might be one of the reasons he speaks less and less. 

A pretty waitress is smiling wide at him, a signal that she knows. A beard and hat pulled down as far as possible would never be enough to hide those golden boy blue eyes. 

Those eyes millions of women would gladly melt into a puddle of rainwater on the dirty floor of some diner in Midwest America for. You’d have to ask for a mop later to clean up the mess. Yours and the one spilling from ‘Molly’s lips. 

I heard you have a list, she smiles coy. You tuck in to the plate of chocolate chip pancakes doused in maple syrup as she bats her eyelashes down at him. 

Steve shifts, glancing over at you seemingly uninterested in the conversation. He’d given up on you having anything to do with the list weeks ago. He may be a fugitive-- may no longer be an Avenger, Captain America-- but he’s still a nice guy.  

Yes, he laughs kindly, hands clasped together on the table top.

You sniff and his eyes snap to yours again, tense. You’ll have to leave soon. Now that ‘Molly’ from the midnight shift at Red’s diner has seen Steve Rogers and his pretty blue eyes, you’ll have to wake Sam from his long overdue sleep and be gone before dawn. You wish he could’ve been left longer. It’s just how things work these days. A long shot from living plush, courtesy of Tony Stark. But you can wait long enough to finish coffee and breakfast.

Can I make a suggestion? she leans down and speaks in soft tones, a wicked grin hidden beneath those sweet, innocent looking red lips. 

You raise a brow when Steve politely nods, pulling out his trusty notebook from his back pocket. Steve asks to borrow a pen which she hastily holds out to him, purposely having their fingers brush in the exchange. Surely he knows she’s flirting, he’s not that naive. There’s no way. He’s a nice guy, maybe too nice.

She’s young. You imagine she has spent more than a few nights looking up at a poster of his face, clean shaven and perfect, playing this exact conversation in her head. That she has carefully thought over what her input would be. 

You should definitely watch ‘Friends’ when you have the time. 

You snort. Loudly. 

Molly instantly shrinks in on herself, deflated. Steve gives you an odd look, which you brush off and promptly resume shoveling the sweet breakfast food into your mouth. 

He’s so kind, it’s downright disgusting. 

Steve makes a point of writing it down underneath ‘Stevie Wonder’, smiling, Thank you. And for good measure, when he returns the pen, Captain America runs his ring finger across her knuckle. Oh, he knew. So considerate, you almost want to smirk when you catch it.

She’s gone now to wait on the other late night stragglers, blushing and gently ghosting her fingers over the spot he’d touched. Your hurtful mocking isn’t enough to dampen the feel of being caught in Steve Rogers’ warm glow. 

His knee presses along the inside of yours again when he shifts to shove the small book back into his pants. You take a measured sip of coffee. 

Steve raises a brow in your direction, Did you have a better suggestion?

There. He’s asked. 

Maybe he could finally breathe in your presence now. 

No luck considering you simply shrug and break from his gaze. So unreadable. It’s frustrating. He has half a mind to write ‘shrug’ underneath ‘Friends’. Are you? Friends, he means. You’ve known each other what feels like a lifetime now. At whatever this is for a year and a half. He can count on one hand the amount of conversations not involving a mission you’ve shared. 

He trusts you with his life, which, after everything that’s happened, is a rare commodity. He’s sure you feel the same. 

You’d say that no, you’re not friends. You probably wouldn’t deny the unfathomable trust in each other, though. That’s comforting at least. You sleep a bed away every night after all. 

Steve doesn’t really sleep. 

He doesn’t know you know that; you don’t sleep either. 

He’s staring, maybe he doesn’t realize it. 

You’ve abandoned your fork, suddenly feeling sick with it. That fucking blue. It split you like butter and might’ve knocked you over had you not been tightly gripping your knee under the table. 

So handsome it hurts. 

How could anyone be that pretty? Heartbreaking. Even before the serum-- you’ve seen the pictures. Breathtaking. The beard. The beard is really something. So so pretty. Adonis and Aphrodite. Michelangelo’s David. Torturous. 

It’s been almost a full minute now. Of him, just staring. 

You clear your throat in hopes it might pull him out of whatever it is that has claimed him. It doesn’t work. You talk just to end it. You know for certain that will surprise him. 

Why do you even keep up with it? The list. That stupid goddamned list.

You can see the flush on Steve’s neck when he does realize that he’d stared at you, through you, in you, for the longest two minutes in history. He coughs into his fist. 

What do you mean? his brow furrows, and you almost want to touch the crease between them to make it go away. It’s a ridiculous thought. One you shake away with another measured sip of coffee. 

Doesn’t it seem... you shrug, and there’s an urge in him to grab you by the shoulders and beg you to stop fucking shrugging so goddamned much. Steve thinks he might go insane if he sees those shoulders twitch up again. I dunno, kind of pointless now?

In a way, yes, it is. 

Steve can’t exactly pop in a film or binge watch a tv show like this. And sitting down to listen to read a book doesn’t really seem right.

He doesn’t answer. You watch him finally pick up his own fork, cutting into an omelette more cheese and meat than egg. 

It still rains down hard. 

Steve pays the bill, smiling tightly at Molly when she lays her hand on his bicep. He tips her well, she was sweet and young and still half terrified from just you snorting. 

You follow a few paces behind him out of the diner, mindful of maintaining that distance. 

Neither of you bother to fight against getting soaked. 

You’re both immediately set on edge when three cars pull into the parking lot, tightly together. It’s the kind of thing you’d been trained to be suspicious of. The kind of thing that never means anything good when around people like you. It means they have come for you both. It means you'll probably have to fight. 

He pauses underneath the buzzing neon sign. His back is to you, the tense expanse of muscles outlined by the wet shirt clinging to his skin. A breath. Another. 

Giggling.

You hear giggling of all things, bubbling through the parking lot. Girls, a whole crowd of them, spilling out of the cars, hushing each other. His name is on their cherry chapstick lips. Not his name, his title: Captain America. Molly had texted them, that’s clear now. 

It’s better, at least, than your previous estimation. But it’s trouble nevertheless. 

Steve turns to face you and somehow, the soft glow of red on his face only makes his eyes bluer. He takes a step forward. You understand. You always understand in the absence of words. There’s a link between the two of you when you’re in that working mode. That trust, tangible in how you too, step forward. 

It’s procedural. You fall into it so easily.

His head ducks, yours raises. Eyes locked in one another, but ears elsewhere, listening. Not touching, but near to it. A breath away. Swaying in the rain. You feel it sizzle on your skin, see it coming off him in steam. 

No one bothers the two lovers, obviously too occupied with each other to be superheroes. Natasha had taught you both that. 

It pours harder yet. 

The giggles fade into nothing, drowned in the monsoon-- no space between the fat drops pelting the earth. They couldn’t see the two of you now even if they tried. 

Why did you come? You never really said, he has to shout, the rain is so loud. 

You’ve left a lot unsaid. Some things are better that way. 

Steve’s hands, large and powerful, stop your shoulders mid shrug. Don’t, he squeezes his eyes shut, drops of rain trickling down the slopes of his nose, For the love of God, don’t fucking shrug.

Everything is heavy: your drenched clothes, his hands still gripping your shoulders, the crushing weight in your chest-- the rock lodged in your throat with all the things you’ve never said for the sake of some stupid credo about not letting things get personal. You’ve let the words die on your lips and for what? 

It did nothing. The lines blurred anyway, out of your control. 

The truth: there hasn’t been a distance greater than the width of his notebook between the two of you for a long time now. 

You pretend. 

You both pretend that absence of any extended conversation means you haven’t already learned everything about each other just by watching. Stealing glances when the other is turned away. 

Steve pretends that the reason your input in the list matters so much to him is because he wants to know the people he’s trusting with his life. 

He already knows you. Not your favorite color or band, but you. Your outline in the darkness of a thousand motels. The smell of you under layers of grime and sweat and blood-- you’re scrubbed clean with the same soap he uses. Your breathing patterns: one when you’re resting with your earbuds in, head bopping to songs he’s not been privy to; another when you’re side by side in combat, moving together like one; the most prominent, when you’re both laying in bed staring at the ceiling, too lost in thought to even care about sleep. 

You know him too.

His question. How do you answer? You followed. Wasn’t that answer enough?

Where’s your notebook? You ask instead, though it’s more of a call in this downpour. 

Steve’s brow furrows again, left hand flying back to pat the small book in his pocket. This time, you do reach out, though you don’t have to go very far. His breath quickens when the pad of your thumb brushes against the wet crease of skin pulled together in uncertainty. He swallows hard, rifling through the pages a little messy because he can’t stop looking at you. Your hand stays there until the pressure releases. For a good second after, too.     

When he finally opens it up to the two pages worth of ‘to-do’, the ink is running. Black to blue. A melted mess of jumbled letters on delicate paper one wrong twitch away from ripping. 

You take it from his hands, gentle, because you’re pretty sure this notebook has been a lifeline for him. Grounding. There’s sketches in there that you’ve only caught glimpses of. 

You lament now that it has been ruined by the rain. 

I don’t have a pen, he says softly. Softly, because he’s closer now than you’ve ever been. You’ve never heard him so soft. So cautious that his voice might scare you away. 

You spare a languid glance up to see just how close he is. It must be only inches because you can hear him through the rain. You tilt your chin to the sky, heavy lids widening slightly. 

He’s closer than even that. Not inches, centimeters. If you hadn’t been swaying in synchronization and instead leaned forward at the same time...

You don’t even know what you’re doing. For the first time in a while, you’re scared. 

The book is closed between your palms, the list shut. You’ll deal with it another day. You’ll help him remember everything that was on there so he can rewrite it. 

Steve leans in more. Not enough. 

I’ll just tell you then, you nod. Steve’s chest brushes against yours as you both suck in heavy breaths. You press the notebook there, against the hard swells of his front, closer to his heart. 

Which question are you answering? Why did you come? Or did you have a better suggestion?

Bob Dylan.

What?

Bob Dylan. Bringing It All Back Home. 1965.

Oh.

The stupid list. For years now, that’s all he’s wanted to hear. But there, under the neon sign, in the parking lot of Red’s diner, drenched in the deluge of rain, it’s not enough. 

We’ll listen to it together, you smile and he’s never seen it quite so big or bright.

Together. It is enough. 

Your lips taste of rain and maple syrup. He’ll remember it for a while. Forever, maybe. And him, you don’t recall something ever being so rich in your life. Steve’s mouth, so decadent you could die with a sated smile still. It’s all the sweeter, the press of your lips together; in it all those words left unsaid. You breathe them into his mouth, warm and red and waiting, and he sears them back into yours with the delicate slide of his tongue. Mouths together form lost sentences and sing. A crescendoing flurry of soundless vowels and consonants that only the two of you will ever hear. 

Steve faintly hears the notebook fall in a splash at your feet and you can feel the grin in his lips by the scratch of his beard against your chin. You’ll feel guilty for dropping it later, but your hand had been hellbent on curling itself under his arms and around his shoulder. His own hands cradle your neck and face, slipping across the rain wet planes of your face. And those forearms, like hams, rest heavily on your shoulders-- so that you can never shrug again. If you can’t find the words, Steve’s content to have you speak them on his lips. 

Everyone’s got a submission to his list. 

But yours come with a kiss. 

Yours is the only one that he’s ever really cared about.  

Sam complains weeks later that he’s sick of hearing Bob Dylan.

[amythedvdhoarder]

Priorities

Pairing: Bucky x reader

For the Flex Your Muscles Writing Challenge set up by @captain-rogers-beard​

19th of June prompt: A set of twins fighting

Word count: 1.4K

Summary: Bucky worries about the effect his job is having on his family

Warnings: Pure fluff

Authors notes: GIF not mine. This is a bit of a change, still fluffy as hell. Dad Bucky is cute as, well I think so anyway! Please feel free to comment, message etc. Feedback is always appreciated x

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

You could hear the shouting from the kitchen. “That’s my bear” Then there was a thud followed by some loud crying. “I got it” Bucky stood up from the stool and rushed out to the back garden. This was the second fight this week, by all accounts that was a good week. Things had been going well since Bucky had got back from his mission, until yesterday when Steve called and said that Bucky was needed for another mission. The twins hadn’t reacted well; they never did. They missed him when he wasn’t here, acting out and fighting with each other. They calmed right down when Bucky was home. He had a pacifying effect on the twins. Of course, they loved you a lot and you did your best when Bucky was away. But the dynamic was always at its best when you were all together.

“But Daddy that’s my bear.” Sarah’s voice was rising and you could hear Nathans cries were getting louder. Time to provide some back-up. You turned the hob off, abandoning dinner and went outside. Bucky was knelt in-between the two 4-year olds. Nathan was cuddled into Bucky’s side, fat tears rolling down his face. Sarah was stood, her little hands on her hips and a frown on her face. The bear in question filling the space between the stand-off. “Sarah it might be your bear but you need to share ok. You certainly do not push your brother over.” Bucky’s voice was soft but you couldn’t miss the authority in his words. Sarah looked like she was going to start arguing, her lips forming a pout. She was a Daddy’s girl through and through, not that you could blame her. As you stepped closer, Nathan pulled away from his father and towards you. Lifting him up and resting him on your hip, you wiped away the tears still falling from his blue eyes. He was Bucky’s double just in miniature form.

Bucky sighed and looked at you for direction. These fights had only started in the last 6 months, during which he had spent a lot of time away. He felt guilty about it and wondered if ultimately, he was to blame. “Let’s go inside and talk about this?” You suggested.  Sarah crossed her arms and turned away from both of you. Bucky was reminded of you in this moment. She had his eyes, the rest of her features similar to yours. Sarah was feisty and bright as a button, she was definitely going to be trouble when she got older; she was already keeping both of you on your toes at the age of 4. Bucky scooped her and the bear up into his arms and followed you into the living room.

Nathan was now clinging to you tightly, his head pressed against your neck. You untangled him and sat him on one end of the sofa, Bucky placing Sarah at the other. You and Bucky sat on the coffee table opposite them, Bucky holding onto the catalyst for the argument. “Nathan, you know that isn’t your bear, did you ask Sarah if you could use hers?.” They had both made bears at build-a-bear the other week when Bucky was last home. Nathan had picked a Falcon bear, much to Bucky’s disgust and Sarah had picked a Captain America Bear. Both bears in honour of their favourite uncles. Nathan looked at you shook his head slowly. “And Sarah do you think pushing Nathan was a good idea?” For a four-year-old she was bright, you could see the cogs turning in her head. “Well Daddy pushes people when they do something they shouldn’t.” Bucky looked horrified at what had just come out of his daughters’ mouth. “That’s different honey.”

After a minute Bucky seemed to recover from the shock. “Where did you get that idea?” Nathan spoke this time “Uncle Tony told us that Daddy fights people for a living.” You made a mental note never to leave the kids alone with Tony again. As you glanced across to Bucky you could see his grip on the bear had tightened, his knuckles white and his metal hand raking through his hair. “Your Daddy saves people as part of his job, he protects everyone from bad people. It is very different to fighting over a bear.” They didn’t look convinced. “Ok, let’s put it another way. Do you think that Uncle Sam would borrow Uncle Steve’s shield without his permission?” Both of them shook their heads. “Do you think that if Uncle Steve borrowed Uncle Sam’s wings that Uncle Steve would push him?” Again, both of them shook their heads. “Well this is exactly the same. You need to be grown up about this. Ask if you want to borrow something and don’t push each other.” Bucky was still quiet, his eyes focussed on the floor. “Apologise to each other please.”

After they had said sorry to each other you told them to go and play outside. “Buck, it’s not your fault”. Bucky looked up at you, his eyes filled with sadness. “Y/N our kids think I am some sort of monster. That I hurt people for a living.” You rubbed a reassuring hand up and down his back. “No, they don’t. They think you’re a super hero, which you are.” He rested his forehead on yours and took in a deep breath. “Maybe I should stop? You did” Pulling back, you tilted his face up to look at you. “Bucky, you love your job. I quit missions because they weren’t for me. I would have quit missions’ kids or no kids.” He closed his eyes and thought carefully. “I do love my job Y/N, but I love my family more.” He kissed your lips softly. “Come on, we can talk about this later. How do you fancy going to the park?”

The kids were exhausted when Bucky put them to bed. He was only on the second page of the book when the twins drifted off to sleep. He looked at their sleeping faces and made his decision. Switching off the light he headed towards the study and pulled out his phone. He remembered the day you had told him you were pregnant, the image of you holding the test in your hand would be forever burned into his memory. He had cried, he had never thought he would have a normal life after everything that had happened. Moving out to Brooklyn had been the next step. You had only just moved in when you went into labour and your beautiful children had been born. The next four years had flown by and Bucky realised that he was missing out. He wanted to be with you and the twins as much as possible. His job made that more difficult.

When he came down stairs half an hour later you were curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other. He planted a kiss on your head and lifted your legs so he could sit down, letting your feet fall into his lap. His thumb absentmindedly rubbed small circles over the denim of your jeans. You put your drink and book on the coffee table and looked at your husband. He turned to look at you. “So, I just spoke to Steve” You raised an eyebrow in question “Tomorrows mission is going to be my last.” Your mouth opened but before you had chance to speak Bucky finished “I’m going to be running the training program. No more missions. I don’t have to leave you ever again.” You moved over and straddled his lap and held his face in your hands. “You sure about this Buck?” His hands fell down to your ass and squeezed lightly. “Only been sure about a couple things in my life. The first marrying you then second that you and the twins are my life now, not work. You come first, always.” You pressed your lips to his, your fingers slipping into his hair pulling him closer to you. His hands wrapped around you more tightly, holding you against him. When you finally broke apart you were a little breathless. “I love you Y/N.” His fingers stroked your cheek. “I love you too” Leaning down you captured his lips again. “Mummy? Daddy?” The voice of your daughter made you break apart again. “I’ll go” you whispered to Bucky. He shook his head. “We’ll go.”

Taglist is open so let me know if you want in

Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18 ,  @silentcoyotesong, @queenofstarliqht​, @buckys-henley​, @lonelyheartsm​

[marveloussupernerd]

Halloween Bash - Jaehee Kang

Hello and welcome to spooky season! For the next week I’m going to post a Halloween one shot every night. I random number generated the post order, prompts, and other little details about it, so I’ll be including those at the beginning of the story

Prompts: RFA party, bobbing for apples, stay all night

Summary: the RFA is throwing a little Halloween bash for its members. You and Jaehee dress to impress

You and Jaehee had put a lot of thought and effort into the RFA Halloween party. Rika had done it once before in the past and you wanted to bring it back and hopefully make it a fun tradition. You planned to have a costume contest, bobbing for apples, and the Monster Mash on repeat.

Jaehee had left the costumes up to you. It took you a while to find good costumes (there were a zillion Hetero couples costumes but you really struggled to find something creative for the two of you), but when you saw it you knew it was perfect. Of course, you couldn’t both win the costume contest, but you definitely wanted to match.

You walked into the coffee shop where Jaehee was hanging a streamers, and plopped the costumes onto the table next to her. “Are those the Scooby Doo characters?” She asked, glancing down at the costumes then focusing her energy back to the task at hand.

“Velma and Daphne! Jaehee, don’t tell me you didn’t know their names,” you sighed, plopping onto the chair next to her.

“I actually did watch Scooby Doo as a kid, but it’s been a while,” she smiled. She stuck one more piece of tape then carefully got off the chair she was standing on to sit next to you. “I think it’ll be quite cute.”

“Oo! I also got this hairspray stuff for you that temporarily dyes it orange. It might be kind of unnatural but-“

“You want me to be Daphne?” She cut you off, her eyebrows raised skeptically.

“Duh! I think you’d look really nice as her. Why? Would you rather be Velma?” You glanced down at the costumes. Fortunately you two were nearly the same size.

“No, I just. I don’t know... I assumed you’d want me to be Velma. I did look a lot like her...”

“Yeah, because Jumin made you. You look so beautiful now and I want you to embrace those changes! Putting on a short wig and glasses would do the exact opposite.”

She leaned across the table to grab your hand. “Thank you. I don’t think you understand how much that means to me.

“Of course. Now if you’re done with the decorations can I help you do the hair?”

“I set one banner up...”

You looked around. Huh. She was right. “Whoops. Got so excited I didn’t even notice that. Let me help you set things up first then.”

The two of you were an excellent team, obviously, and made quick work of setting up the decorations. Jaehee had splurged on some nice decorations. Lots and lots of pumpkins and pumpkin banners (to go with your pumpkin treats you had made ahead of time) and even a very realistic cauldron for the bobbing for apples game. Granted, her decor was very mild and not scary, spare one thing she splurged on. She set up one of those spiders that jump out at you when you walked past it, then put it by the entry.

“Jaehee... I didn’t know you were so diabolical...” you chuckled, putting batteries in the machine to get it running.

“I just want to see Mr. H- I mean Jumin, jump. He has a fear of spiders you know.”

“I’ll be sure to get it on camera,” you winked at her.

The next step was getting all dressed up. You started with the hair dye, which blended surprisingly well with her now-long hair. It wasn’t too neon, but enough that you could tell she was now a redhead. You helped her with some winged eyeliner, as she had never done a wing herself, and some sparkly pink lipgloss. Once she was all dressed, you took a step back to admire your handiwork. “Jaehee, you look kinda hot,” you complimented, suddenly feeling extremely embarrassed.

Her cheeks shot red from the compliment as she worked hard to look anywhere but your eyes. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

“No, I think you look exactly like her. Now will you help me get this wig on?”

Turns out getting a wig on is a two, probably three honestly, person task. Especially with your baby hairs that kept falling out of place. Luckily, Jaehee helped you fix it until it was absolutely perfect. You got all dressed next. “What do you think?” You asked, doing a little spin.

“They really didn’t include the glasses with the costume?” She asked, turning the bag upside-down to ensure you hadn’t missed anything. “Huh. Well, luckily for us I think I still have my old pair.”

Jaehee disappeared to the back. You heard a lot of rustling through drawers before she came back victorious. “No prescription or anything, just regular frames.” She carefully put them on your face. “Perfect. Now you look the part.”

You opened your phone camera to check your outfit. “We look GOOD! Best couples costume ever.” You glanced at the time. “And just in time too. We’ve gotta get to the front so we can see everyone get scared by the spider.

Jumin and Yoosung arrived together, no surprise since Yoosung was still his acting assistant. Jumin jumped slightly at the spider, but it was nowhere close to Yoosung, who backed into Jumin so quickly that he knocked the both of them over. You and Jaehee couldn’t contain your laughter, not making any movement to help them up.

Luckily there were no injuries, as the two got up relatively fast and made their way over to you. “Oh Assistant K- I mean, Jaehee,” Jumin said to you, “Some days I miss you more than others. And this is definitely one of those days.” He obviously did and didn’t mean it at the same time; he was teasing Yoosung. But oh! More pressing matters at hand.

“I’m not Jaehee,” you giggled. Jumin’s mouth fell open in shock. Obviously you were right; your voices were quite different, but you really pulled a fast one on him.

“Forgive me. I just thought... well, what are you two anyways?”

“You don’t know? They’re from Scooby Doo!” Yoosung yelled, very surprised that Jumin didn’t recognize it.

“Scooby huh?”

“Scooby Doo! It’s a kids show. You’re... more hopeless than I thought,” he said sadly.

“You two look nice! Frankenstein and his monster. Very creative.” You complimented them.

The conversation was halted when Zen walked in the room, bumping into the glass door as he jumped away from the spider. You all laughed this time.

Zen was quickly followed by Seven and V, who were not shocked by the spider at all. Figures. Zen was a vampire, V was dressed as a pirate, and Seven was... oh god why was he in his maid costume.

“You all look nice!” Jaehee complimented. “Let me get some music on and then we’ll start everything up.”

“Jaehee, that’s you!?” Zen exclaimed. “You look great!”

“Thanks!” She called. The Monsrer Mash started playing. She made her way back to the group. “Although it wasn’t exactly my idea.”

“I am a genius, I know.” You commented, accepting your praise. Jaehee hit your shoulder playfully and you got the party started.

The activity of the night was bobbing for apples. Was this a good idea? Probably not. But it’d be fun. You got to man the station and time how long it took everyone to get their apples. Jumin took the longest... literally over three minutes because he didn’t want to hurt his teeth. Zen was the quickest, trying to make sure he beat Jumin, which was not challenging to do.

Jaehee finished her turn and got right in the middle of the times. Her lipgloss was smeared down her face. “You know, maybe this idea had a few flaws,” you giggled, grabbing a paper towel to help her dry her face off. You very gently patted her face dry, using your finger to gently wipe the lipgloss away. It was strangely intimate and the two of you were both flushing messes, despite the fact that you were literally dating. No makeup problems for you though! The only issue was that the glasses fell off in the water, traditional Velma style, and the game became bobbing for glasses.

Zen’s prize for winning was a caramel apple designed to look like a pumpkin. Pretty creative from you and Jaehee to be honest. He rubbed it in Jumin’s face nonstop, and you figured he would for the next year until the next contest.

When it came down to voting for the best costume, it was no surprise to read out the results. Everyone had voted for Jaehee. There was one vote for you of course, because Jaehee was a supportive girlfriend and would NEVER vote for herself. Even Seven didn’t vote for himself which was, honestly, quite a relief. You were proud that her costume was so good Seven considered it better than his “Mary Vanderwood III” getup, whatever that meant.

Jaehee’s very special prize was homemade chocolate and pretzel bark the two of you had made the other night. Honestly, you were glad she won because it was so good and she would share it with you.

The two of you stayed all night. You sort of had to, considering it was taking place at your coffee shop. But you had a great time dishing out (non alcoholic) drinks and pumpkin cookies and candy.

You played pin the stem on the pumpkin (which V actually won, which honestly should not surprise anyone) and spent most of the time hearing everyone complaining about the Monster Mash playing for the fiftieth time. It wasn’t your fault. There weren’t that many Halloween songs and this one was Jaehee’s absolute favorite.

Once everyone left, the two of you plopped down on the sofa in the corner of the shop. “I’m so tired,” Jaehee groaned, resting her head on your shoulder and propping her feet up. “You sure we can’t just sleep here tonight?”

You laughed, chest shaking as you giggled, causing Jaehee to shift slightly. “We still have to open tomorrow at 6. And as much fun as it sounds to stay the night here, I’m worried your hair will become permanently orange if we don’t wash it out.”

She let out an exhasperated sigh, standing up and taking your hands to help pull you up. “Okay, but only if you help me wash it out. I’m too tired, and I don’t think I’ll be able to get the back.”

You winked at her. “Sure, whatever you say, Jaehee.”

[fandomrewrites]

Season 1, Episode 6: Heart Monitor

Hello readers! This chapter is about half way through the first season. This chapter has some really great Stiles x Reader moments. This is also the longest chapter so far! I hope you all enjoy and as always constructive criticism is appreciated.

Season 1, Episode 6: Heart Monitor

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend, Nate Wilson (OC) x Reader

Warnings: Some violence and mention of death

Word Count: 3,994

Season 1 Masterlist

Scott and I were just finishing up the grocery shopping. We both had our hands full as we were walking through the parking garage trying to remember where we parked. “Click the alarm, it will be faster than walking in circles.”

Scott nods then gently puts the bags on the ground pulling out the keys and setting the car alarm off. While listening for the beep, a bottle of milk rolled out of one of the bags, moving under a car.

Scott sighs then kneels to grab the milk, feeling blindly under the car. Before he finds anything, the bottle rolls back as milk spurts on the pavement from punctured holes in its side.

The bottle slowly stops as Scott gets off the ground and makes eye contact with me. “RUN”

I drop the bags and run, Scott and I moving in different directions. I am so happy I didn’t wear heels... After a couple of minutes of running I pause behind a parked SUV. I look through the windows trying to see if it’s following me, or it I can find Scott.

I can feel my heart pounding but can’t see or hear anything else. I slowly lean around the car and quietly move around the parking garage keeping a lookout for anything dangerous. 

I then start hearing the sound of multiple car alarms. I take off running again, trying to find Scott. I know he has to be close to the cars but far enough away where he won’t be found.

As I run in the direction of the cars, I can just make out the sound of a cell phone ringing. I turn the corner just in time to see Derek reach down and pull my brother out of his hiding spot.

I take a deep breath as I throw my head back and slowly walk over to them. As I approach, Scott is brushing Derek’s hands off of his jacket, “What the hell was that?” Scott is angry.

“Yeah, I would kinds like to know that too,” Both boys turn to me.

Then Derek answers, “I said I was going to teach you. I didn’t say when.”

“You scared the crap out of us!” Scott exclaims.

Derek sniffs the air, “Not yet,” he deadpans.

I try to hide a smile, “Was that a joke?”

They both ignore me as Scott continues, “Well, I was fast, right?”

“Not fast enough.”

“But the car alarms. That was smart, right?”

“Until your phone rang.”

“Look on the bright side, your phone ringing distracted him from me.” I brightly smile.

Scott sighs, “Would you just stop? Please?”

Derek pauses and turns to face my brother, waiting for him to speak. “What happened the other night... Stiles’s dad getting hurt. It was my fault. I should have been there to do something. I need you to teach me how to control this.”

“I’m what I am because of birth. You were bitten. Teaching someone who was bitten takes time. I’m not even sure I can teach you.”

Scott takes a breath, “What do I have to do?”

“Get rid of distraction,” Derek grabs Scott, pulling out his phone and turns it around to show the display that says there is a missed call from Allison. “This is why I caught you. You want me to teach you? Get rid of her.”

Scott looks shocked and angry, “What? Just because of her family?”

Derek throws the phone, breaking it. My jaw drops as I look on in shock. “Getting angry? That’s your first lesson. Do you want to learn how to control this? How to shift? You do it through anger. By tapping into a primal, animal rage. You can’t do that with her around.”

Scott has his teeth clenched as he speaks, “I can get angry.”

“Not angry enough. This is the only way I can teach you. Can you stay away from her at least until after the full moon?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Derek interrupts him, “Do you want to live? Do you want to protect your friends,” He glances at me, “Your family? Yes or no?”

“Yes. If you can teach me, I can stay away from her.”

I nod, “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

*_*_*_*_*_*

I was in my room texting Nate when I heard Scot’s door slam shut and not even a minute later he screamed. I quickly stood up and rushed through our bathroom and into his room just in time to hear him tell Derek, “You seriously need to stop doing that.”

“What happened? Did he talk to you?”

“Woah what? The Alpha? How do you know it’s a guy?”

They both ignored me, only sparing me a quick glance. I rolled my eyes, though I should be used to being ignored by now. “Yeah, we had a nice conversation about the weather.”

I move out of the bathroom door to sit on Scott’s bed as he continues, “No. He didn’t talk.”

“Did you get anything off of him? An impression?”

“What do you mean?”

“Pretty sure he’s talking about your other senses. I mean they are heightened no, use them to your advantage.” I state.

Derek nods, “Communication doesn’t have to be spoken. What kind of feeling did you get from him?”

Scott pauses to think, “Anger.”

“Focused on you?”

“Not me. But definitely anger. I could feel it. Especially when he drew the spiral.”

“He drew a spiral?” I questioned, knitting my eyebrows together.

I looked at Derek to read his reaction as Scott spoke, “Yeah. In the condensation. What You have this look like you know what it means.”

“It’s nothing.” Derek brushes off.

Derek goes to open the door but I scoff, “That faces says otherwise. You know, you can’t ask us to trust you ad then just keep things to yourself. Trust is a two-way street.”

Derek is adamant, “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Scott prompts, “You buried your sister under a spiral. What does it mean?”

Derek hesitates, thinking about telling us then answers, “You don’t want to know.” He then leaves the room as Scott and I glance at each other. I slowly stand up then head back to my room.

*_*_*_*_*_*

I was at lunch talking with Allison and Lydia. Allison was telling us about her history project and The Beast of Gevaudan. “The what of who?” Lydia questions, clearly confused.

“The Beast of Gevaudan. Listen...” Allison then flips through the pages of one her books and reads,

“A quadrupled wolf-like monster prowling the Auvergne and South Dordogne areas of France during the years 1764 to 1767. La Bete killed over 100 people, becoming so infamous that the king, Louis XV, sent one of his best hunter to try to kill it.”

“Boring.” Lydia states.

“I think it’s kinds interesting, but it is obviously fiction. I mean c’mon. A wolf-like monster.”

Allison continues reading, “Even the Church eventually declared the monster a messenger of Satan.”

“Still boring,” Lydia pipes up.

“Cryptozoologists believe it may have been a sub-species of a hoofed predator, possibly Mesonychid,”

“Slipping into a coma bored,” I gently elbow Lydia and she purses her lips in response.

“While others believe it was a powerful sorcerer who could shapeshift into a man-eating monster.”

“Any of this have anything to do with your family?” Lydia asks.

“Yeah, I’m confused too. Didn’t you say this was for your history class?”

Allison smiles then continues to read, “It is believed La Bete was finally trapped and killed by a renowned hunter who claimed his wife and four children were the first to fall prey to the creature. The hunter’s name was Argent.”

Lydia speaks, unimpressed, “Your ancestors killed a big wolf. So what?”

“Not just a big wolf. Look at this picture. What’s it look like to you?”

Allison flips the page, revealing a drawing of the monster to Lydia and me. The beast stands on two legs, enshrouded in mist, with red eyes and sharp claws. The bodies of women and children lie at its feet, looks of pure terror are etched on their faces.

As we study the picture Lydia finally answers Allison’s question, “It looks. Like a big. Wolf. See you in History.” She then gets up and walks away without another word.

Allison looks at me, “Do you think it looks like just a big wolf?”

I glance at the picture and sigh, “It looks like a classic werewolf. But Allison, it was obviously just a big wolf, or something similar. I mean these mythological creatures come from our history. Take mermaids, for example, they are really just manatees and dugongs. It’s how they got their scientific name Sirenia.”

Allison nods, “Yeah, I know. But it’s still cool to think that my family had a part in a classic myth like this.”

She then goes back to reading her book as I stand to throw away my unwanted food.

*_*_*_*_*_*

As I was making my way to the library I heard my name get called out. I stopped and looked over my shoulder to see Nate jogging to catch up with me. I smile, “Hey, sorry I haven’t been able to spend more time with you. Scott’s been going through some stuff and I’ve been helping him.”

“Really? Is it just Scott?”

“Well, Lydia too. With that whole thing with her and Jackson. I’ve been wanting to make sure she was okay.”

“So just Scott and Lydia?”

“Um, yeah?” I raise my eyebrow, “Why? Should there be something else?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.” Nate sounds accusing like I did something wrong.

I stop to think about what I have done in the last few days to see if there is a reason why he would be angry at me, “I’m not following... Did I do something wrong?”

“Well, I’ve seen you with a guy that I don’t know, twice here at school.” I knot my eyebrows together unsure who he’s talking about. “I think he’s older. The first time I saw you two together you were both getting into Stiles’ jeep. The second time he was talking to you buy your locker.”

I sigh in realization, “That’s nothing, he’s Stiles’ cousin. I’ve only seen him a few times, always with other people. Except for that time in the hallway. Wait, are you accusing me of cheating?”

“Well, what did you expect? You’re hanging around a guy that I don’t know and you’re not telling me about it. On top of that, you’re being secretive. We haven’t hung out in days.”

I scoff, “What do I expect? I expect you to trust me! I know I’ve been M.I.A. the past few days but I just explained why to you. I didn’t tell you about Stiles’ cousin because he’s not important. Don’t you dare accuse me of cheating! I would never do that, the thought wouldn’t even cross my mind.”

I turn to walk away but before I make it far Nate’s hand is tugging on my wrist, “Babe, I’m sor--”

I cut him off, “Don’t. I don’t want to even look at you right now.” I yank my hand out of his grasp. After a few steps, I turn back around, “And an ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t going to cut it. For you to even think I would do that...” I trail off as I shake my head then continue down the hall.

*_*_*_*_*_*

I walk into econ and head to my usual seat beside Stiles. As the other students enter the room coach starts talking, “Sit down. Sit, sit, sit. Lots to cover.”

As Scott sits in his usual seat and watches as Stiles goes to sit in between us he speaks up, “No Stiles. Take the seat behind me. Stiles,”

He gets cut off as Allison takes the empty seat behind him. She then leans over to talk to Scott, “Hey, I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Oh, sorry? I’ve been super busy.”

They continue talking for a little bit as Stiles leans over to tell me about their test with coaches heart monitor during their free period. Coach then smacks a book on his desk to get the classes attention. My head snaps to the front of the room as the coach begins.

“All right, settle down. Let’s start with a quick summary of last night’s reading. Greenberg, put your hand down. Everybody knows you did the reading. How about...” His eyes search the room and land on my brother, “McCall.”

I quickly ask, “Which one?” knowing that Scott didn’t do the reading. Coach glances at me almost like he forgot I was in this class.

“Uh, Scott. Summarize last night’s reading.”

Scott hesitates, “I forgot.” He looks uncomfortable.

“Okay, then. Nice work. Because it’s not like you’re averaging a D in this class. You do know that I can’t keep you on them with a D, McCall?”

He waits for Scott to say something as a few students giggle. I turn in my seat throwing a glare over my shoulder at the students.

Coach continues when there is no answer, “How about you summarize the previous night’s reading? No? How about the night before? How about you summarize anything you’ve ever read? In your entire life.”

Scott is getting flustered, I look towards Stiles who has coach’s phone out, tracking Scott’s heart rate. It’s continuing to rise and my only thought is that this is not going to end well.

“Anything at all. A blog? The back of a cereal box? The adults-only warning on your favorite website.” When he still gets no answer the coach continues in disappointment, “Thank you, McCall. Thank you for extinguishing every last flicker of hope I have for your generation. Next practice you start with suicide runs.”

The class laughs as Stiles and I keep our eyes locked on the phone. Quickly, Scott’s heart rate starts dropping back to normal. Stiles and I glance at each other then look towards Scott to see Allison holding his hand under the desk.

*_*_*_*_*_*

After class, Stiles and I quickly rush after Scott. When we catch up Stiles speaks, “It’s her.”

“What do you mean?”

I explain for Stiles, “It’s Allison. Do you remember what you told us about the night of the full moon? You were think about her. About protecting her.”

Scott nods along, still unsure of what we are trying to say.

Stiles continues where I left off, “So remember the lacrosse game? You said you could hear her voice out on the field.”

“Yeah. I did.” He nods again.

I take over, explaining, “That’s what brought you back so you could score. And then in the locker room, you didn’t kill her. At least not like you were trying to kill Stiles that one time. She brings you back.”

Scott pauses as he thinks, “But it’s not always true. Because literally every time I’m kissing her or touching her,”

Stiles cuts him off, “That’s not the same. When you’re doing that you’re just another hormonal teenager thinking about sex. See, you’re thinking about sex right now. Aren’t you?”

I instantly start shaking my head and rolling my eyes at Scott’s dazed expression. He snaps back into reality and apologizes as Stiles continues, “Now when she was holding your hand in class, it was different. I don’t think she makes you weak...”

I finish, “We think she actually gives you control. Think of her as an anchor.”

Scott nods in understanding, “You mean because I love her.”

My eyes slightly widen at his words. Scott himself looks surprised that he said it out loud. “Did I just say that?”

“You just said that,” I confirm.

“I love her.”

I smile along with Scott though Stiles ruins the moment, “That’s great. Moving on,” before he can continue Scott speaks up again.

“No, I do. I really do. I think I’m totally in love with her.”

“And that’s beautiful. Before you go off and write a sonnet can we figure this out? Because you obviously can’t be around her all the time.”

Finally, Scott focuses, “Okay, what do I do?”

Stiles starts pacing as he thinks, “You’re getting an idea, aren’t you?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“Could this idea get me in trouble?” Scott asks.

“Maybe.”

“Is this idea going to cause me physical pain?”

“Definitely.”

I bite my lip already hating this idea, even though I don’t actually know what it is. Scott and I follow Stiles outside to the parking lot. Nearby is a group of seniors, laughing and smoking by their trucks.

Stiles pulls Scott to a certain spot, “Over here.”

“What are we doing?” I question, my voice laced with concern.

“You’ll see. Stand right here, Scott. Do you have your keys?” Scott takes out his keys, showing Stiles, “Hold them up. Now, whatever happens I want you to think about Allison. Find her voice like you did at the game? Got it?”

Scott nods as I realize what Stiles’ plan is. I take a deep breath and let my head fall into my hands. Stiles continues speaking, “Good. Keep holding the keys.”

Stiles then walks over to the senior’s truck, takes out his own keys and drags them along the truck, effectively scratching the paint. Once he finishes and puts his keys away he loudly yells at Scott, “Dude. What do you think you’re doing to that truck?”

The seniors turn around to see Scott holding his keys. Scott steps back and tries to hide his keys but fails miserably as the seniors start to make their way over to him. They quickly start beating him up as my hand flies to my mouth and Stiles and I watch the heart monitor.

Not too much later and Mr. Harris comes around the corner breaking up the fight. The seniors take off leaving Stiles and I looking at the heart monitor and Scott bloody and on the ground.

Scott sits up and turns to Stiles and myself as Stiles shows him the phone. Displayed on the screen is a normal, steady heartbeat.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Scott, Stiles and I sit in the empty Chemistry classroom as Mr. Harris grades papers. I can’t believe I got detention. I didn’t even do anything. I was just standing there!

Scott speaks, breaking the silence, “Excuse me, sir. I know it’s detention and all, but I’m supposed to be at work. And I don’t want to get fired.”

Harris, of course, ignores him, not caring that he has work.

Scott then leans over to Stiles, talking about what happened. I choose not to listen and instead continue to draw in my notebook and think about the fight I had with Nate earlier. I still can’t believe he thought I would cheat on him. I’m so angry and hurt, he better come up with a damn good apology.

After a few more minutes of silence, Harris finally speaks up, “All right, you three can go. Out of here.”

We quickly grab our things and head out of the building.

*_*_*_*_*_*

I was with Stiles at his place working on homework. I was laying on his bed while he was working at his desk, I was telling him about my argument with Nate, “Do you think it’s stupid, that I’m angry with him?”

“Not at all, I would be angry too if someone accused me of cheating.”

I nodded my head and bit my lip, unconvinced that I had a reason to be mad. “I feel stupid for being mad at him. I mean, I’m pissed that he jumped to conclusions but I also understand feeling jealous.”

“(Y/N/N),” Stiles sighed. He stood up and walked towards his bed sitting beside me, he slowly placed his hand on my shoulder, “You have the right to be angry that he accused you of cheating. That’s more than just being jealous. And anyone who knows you knows that you would never do that. Your feelings are valid.”

I slowly smiled then sat up pulling Stiles into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around my waist as I whispered, “Thanks, you always know what to say.”

Before he could say anything back his bedroom door burst open and the two of us sprung apart.

“Sorry... Am I interrupting something?” Scott asks looking between us.

“Uh no. What do you need?” Stiles gulps, rubbing his hands on his jeans.

*_*_*_*_*_*

As the three of us arrive at the school and get out of the jeep Stiles speaks, “This is a terrible idea.”

“Couldn’t agree more...” I mumble.

“Are we seriously going to do this?”

“Can either of you think of something better?” Scott asks with just a small glimmer of hope in his brown eyes.

“Personally, I’m a big fan of ignoring a problem and hoping it goes away,” Stiles replies as I just shake my head.

“Just make sure we can get inside.”

Stiles then yanks out a pair of bolt cutters just as a pair of headlights approach. Derek’s Camaro parks in a nearby space, he kills the engine and steps out from behind the wheel. As the three of approach him Scott asks, “Where’s my boss?”

“In the back.” Derek walks over pulling the door open allowing us to look inside. Deaton is bound, gagged, and blindfolded. “Comfy.” I deadpan and put my hands on my hips.

I turn to look at Scott and Stiles, “I’m going to wait out here, the school is creepy at night.”

As the two brunettes make their way over to the dark, empty school Derek turns to me, “Where are they going?”

I sigh, “You said that Scott is linked with the Alpha. He wants to see if you’re right.” I pause, “You’ll understand in a minute.” 

As Derek and I wait outside, standing by his car we hear a very pathetic attempt at a howl ringing over the PA system. Derek slowly moves his eyes away from Deaton and locks them on the school, “You gotta be kidding me...”

A few minutes later a powerful howl blasts through the PA system, my jaw drops, impressed that he could actually do it. Derek looks impressed but definitely not happy.

He turns to look at me with a clenched jaw as I raise my hands, “Don’t look at me.”

The moment Scott and Stiles step out of the school Derek speaks, “I’m going to kill the two of you myself. Are you trying to attract the entire state to this school?”

“I didn’t know it would be that loud.” Scott tries to defend.

“It was loud. And it was awesome.” Stiles says, clearly happy with the howl.

“I said it was a bad idea but nobody ever listens to (Y/N),” I cross my arms, looking towards the three guys standing in front of me.

Scott’s eyes linger on Derek’s car. Derek and I follow his eyes and see that Deaton is now missing, “What did you do with him?”

“We didn’t do anything,” Derek replies.

He doesn’t get the chance to continue because the next moment he jerks forward. Blood spurts from his mouth as he rises into the air, held aloft by something dark and large.

I am frozen in place looking to my right. Stiles then pulls my hand as we all stumble away from Derek and the Alpha. We watch in horror as Derek’s body is thrown and slams into the brick wall of the school.

Tripping over our feet we race to the school. The two boys let me in before them, then they quickly yank the double doors shut. Holding them closed, we try to catch our breath as a shadow with glowing red eyes emerged from where we were just standing.

[knightowl725]

Healing in a Graveyard, Ch. 6

Fandom: Critical Role

A continuation of my work for Fjorclay Week 2020′s modern au prompt. It’s official. Jester is the one making the chapter title cards. I have no part in this.

In this chapter: Fjord and Caduceus deal with intruders. Intruders? In my graveyard? 

Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828932/chapters/57491902

Caduceus looked around the kitchen, then pointed to the stove. A few pans and the pot used for soup were still there. The pot had a decent amount left. Fjord nodded, and they moved cautiously over to the stove. Each with an improvised weapon in hand, they eased back until they stood on either side of the curtained doorway.

“Found his room!” called the second person from upstairs.

“Grab his laptop, his books, all that crap.”

The first man lifted the curtain and stepped through as he spoke, distracted.

Fjord moved first, flinging the pot’s contents towards the man with a little prayer to the Wildmother.

He cried out in pain as the hot soup seared his neck and arms. Not his face, like Fjord had planned, but close enough.

With a single swing of a still-hot pan, Caduceus brought The Champion to the floor. The resounding clang of its impact echoed through the house.

“What was that?” called the man upstairs. Fjord dropped the pot and dragged the unconscious Champion into the kitchen. Still breathing, but definitely out cold. Caduceus strode into the entry room.

“Cad--!” Fjord bit off the word, dropping the man and hurrying after him. Drawing back the curtain, Fjord saw Caduceus drop his pan to take up the shovel leaning against the stairs. He glanced at Fjord and put out a hand to stop him. He mouthed, “Trust me.”

Fjord stepped back into the kitchen as footsteps came down the stairs, ripping his phone from his back pocket. His hands shook as he typed in his password.

“Who-who the fuck are you?” the other Champion asked.

“I’m the gravekeeper,” Caduceus said, his voice lower and darker than it’d gone before.

“Wh-Where’s Daniel?”

“Daniel isn’t with us anymore.”

“You kill--” The Champion stopped himself. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I was just told to come here and pick up a guy that pissed off my boss.”

“Did Daniel have a surname? I’ll need it for the stone.”

He just stuttered a reply.

“Why don’t you give me your name, while we’re at it,” Caduceus drawled. “I have a couple of nice plots I’ve been meaning to fill. What better fodder for my garden than trespassers?”

Several soft thuds followed as The Champion ran for the door. When he yanked it open, he screamed.

“I believe the man asked for your name, champion,” came Yasha’s voice.

“Fjord, bring out the body,” Caduceus called. Fjord complied, dragging the unconscious Champion by his upper body. “Now, Yasha. Let’s have the nice man take his companion and tell all his friends not to tread on the Wildmother’s domain again, including our dear friend Fjord. Well, not unless they’re ready to be laid to rest.”

The man tried to flee, but Yasha did not move. “Take your friend.”

Slowly, awkwardly, the standing Champion dragged his friend out the door and down the path out of the Blooming Grove.

The rest of the Nein were on their way, jogging until they saw the man. Fjord couldn’t hear what they said, but he heard the laughter as his friends parted around the shamed Champion.

“I’m so sorry,” Fjord said.

Caduceus looked at him, confused. “What for?”

“I left the door unlocked. They came here because of me. This is my--”

“We all leave the door unlocked,” Yasha said, finally coming inside.

“This wasn’t your fault Fjord,” Caduceus said. “And this wasn’t the first time someone tried to cross these lands unwelcome. We have ways of dealing with them. Usually more hostile than what I tried today.”

Smiling, Caduceus said, “I think I did a rather good job, looking intimidating.”

“Yeah, you were fucking terrifying,” Yasha agreed.

“You both nearly sent me running, and I know you,” Fjord told them.

The three laughed, breaking the tension and fear that hovered over Fjord. His hands still shook, but he did that well.

“We’re so sorry Fjord,” Jester said as the rest of the Nein caught up. “We all wanted to run to help, but we were carrying your things, so Yasha went ahead.”

“Fjord texted us,” Yasha explained to Caduceus.

“Thank you,” Fjord said.

“We got your stuff, though!” Nott exclaimed. “You were right. They were all out doing some cult shit. Except for those two, I guess.”

“Isn’t it funny?” Jester giggled. “They came here to try and steal Fjord or something while we had just stolen his stuff back.”

“Most of it, I think,” Caleb said. “We did our best.”

“Thank you all, really,” Fjord said. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Shut up,” Beau said.

One by one the Nein headed up the stairs to dump what they’d collected in Fjord’s room.

“Is my laptop still up there?” Fjord called. “And my books?”

“Yeah?” Beau called back.

“That’s good,” Caduceus said. “But, uh, Fjord. Why’d they go and pick up your things?”

“I’m sorry Caduceus,” he said for the second time. “I meant to ask earlier, but I wanted to make sure I had a chance to afford it. And I forgot you weren’t there when we talked about it this morning.”

“Are you going to stay, Fjord?”

His heart started beating again, but for a different kind of fear. “I...hoped to.”

Caduceus smiled. His face lit up, pink eyes suddenly several shades lighter. Everything around him seemed to glow a little more vibrantly, and the countless plants in the room seemed to lean a little towards him.

“You did all that cooking for me to leave,” Fjord muttered.

“I was happy to do it,” Caduceus said, stepping closer to Fjord. “It’s still yours. I know finals are in a few weeks, so they might help still.”

“Of course.”

“Honestly, Fjord, I’ve been struggling all day thinking about you leaving and going back to that place,” he confessed. “Look at how I reacted to them. Well, it was obvious they weren’t here to walk you back, but still.”

He went on, “But I know better than most that you can’t force someone to stay, even if it’s good for them. So I wanted to send you off with a smile.”

“And a shitton of food.”

He laughed. “That was the idea.”

“Thank you,” Fjord said, and he wondered if he would ever stop thanking Caduceus. Every day that passed, and he only fell deeper into an unspoken debt to this man. But it was a debt he was glad to repay. Whatever was needed.

~~

Fjord spent most of the evening putting away his things. There were items missing, including his favorite band t-shirt, but it was a small price to pay. They’d managed to find the little wood carving Vandren had taught him to make in his early days as a sailor. Even if Vandren was not the man Fjord had believed for so long, it was still something irreplaceable. At least he had that

He set it on the dresser next to books and the houseplant.

Caduceus flitted by constantly, helping Fjord fold shirts or making notes about furniture he’d need, now that he was staying. Just generally fussing, practically throwing out little flowers in his joy. Every time he disappeared back downstairs to do some work, Fjord felt a familiar warmth in his face.

Okay, so he had a little crush on Caduceus. Maybe. But it made sense, didn’t it? Caduceus had been a pillar this past week, at a time in Fjord’s like when a week felt like a year. And he had literally saved him that day. An innocent little admiration crush was fine. Natural, even. It would pass, and he could go back to enjoying Caduceus’s company platonically. Even moreso, now that they’d grown closer.

He looked up, thinking of the Wildmother, and sighed.

~~

He accepted the job at the Arbor Exemplar by the end of the night, promising to come in that week for training with Reani.

Over the next few weeks, he devoted his time to study, class, and his new job. He took an early start to his day, waking up in time to join Caduceus and Beau for morning meditation. Caduceus began changing up his guided, nature-based meditations to include ocean themes now and then, which did nothing for Fjord’s crush.

Sometimes there was time after for him and Caduceus to meditate on the Wildmother, to commune under the large tree to seek Her wisdom and guidance. Then, it was off to work for a few hours. Fjord opened the gym, greeted by groggy patrons often trying to guzzle some caffeine before their barely-after-sunrise workout.

Reani took over just in time for him to make it to his classes. He had about an hour to study and work on assignments before returning to the gym a few days a week. Sometimes, he spent that time actually at the gym, working out rather than studying. While the gym was often busy, during the week there were plenty of opportunities for him to do schoolwork and study. Far more than at the cafe.

He had days off here and there, and he and Reani agreed to split the weekends so each of them always had one day off. Some of the trainers, and occasionally Calliope herself, filled in their gaps.

And in the evenings, he spent time with his friends and neighbors. Caduceus trusted him enough to let him help cook. On the nights Caduceus didn’t cook, they ordered food or ate leftovers, or someone else in the Nein gave cooking a try.

When he’d lived with The Champions, Fjord had spent every spare moment studying. For all the good it did him. He’d been constantly distracted, pulled away, put to work for a last-minute need at the cafe or a sudden meeting or event. For all the hours he poured into school, it meant nothing.

But now, he had dedicated times in his schedule purely for study. No one at the Xhorhaus gave him shit if he spent “too long” at the library. The gym was another opportunity to get in some work. Even if there were more distractions and interruptions, he could finish most of his schoolwork in the gaps. And being surrounded by another sort of temple to the Wildmother felt right. Inspiring, in a sense.

By the time Fjord made it home, he could spend those precious few hours relaxing. Cleaning up his room, playing boards games with his friends, watching some ridiculous detective film with Nott and Jester, helping Caleb attempt some experiment he didn’t understand, playing wingman to Beau when she needed to pretend like she didn’t have her own crush to deal with, chatting with Yasha, and drinking tea on the porch with Caduceus.

Finals came, and with them, significantly less panic than he was accustomed to. The entire house fell into an almost dormant state as the students focused, Nott and Caduceus happily watching on with no remorse. Nott’s maternal energy, compiled across months of chaos, seemed to unleash around midterms and finals. Between her and Caduceus, no one was ever hungry long enough to notice.

The night before Fjord’s last final, the one he needed to do well on the most to keep his grades and scholarship alive, he took some time before bed to sit beneath the large tree. The pink flowers were long gone, and their petals with them, but the memory remained crystal-sharp in his mind’s eye.

He meditated. It’d become more natural to him as he practiced each morning. Now, even if he was in the middle of the day, he found himself running through some of those techniques to calm his nerves or keep his focus.

He slipped into the calm state after a few moments, and he spoke to Her.

Thank you for your guidance, he began. Thank you for the focus you granted me this week. Thank you for the home you welcomed me into, and this life that you made more. I hope that you can continue to offer me guidance with my last test. I am open to your wisdom, and I am honored to serve.

It was a Caduceus-style prayer, but Fjord had not yet felt confident enough to create his own structure. He hadn’t had the most success with outright asking questions either. The confidence his firbolg guide had in interpreting the wind, the leaves, the sudden scent in the air, was one he lacked. But he could get there, someday.

When he came out of his meditation, he noticed a body beside him. Tall and familiar, folded into his own meditation, was Caduceus. He opened his eyes shortly after Fjord and smiled.

“Hello Caduceus.”

“Did you speak to Her?” he asked.

Fjord nodded. “Just a little. I thanked Her, and I asked for Her help tomorrow. It’s my last test of the week. I really need to do well to keep that grade up. My scholarship depends on it.”

He let out a shaky breath, and Caduceus reached out to put a comforting hand on his knee. “She would not have guided you this far to abandon you now. Trust in the outcome. Trust in Her.”

Fjord took a deep breath, then nodded. “Thank you, Caduceus.”

“Of course.”

“No, really,” he insisted. “I owe so much to you. You’ve been a wonderful friend and ally and mentor at a time when I needed it most.”

There was a long pause as Caduceus glanced away, distantly looking at the house.

“I am your sign from the Wildmother,” he said simply. “You called for help, and I appeared. Someday someone else will pray for a miracle, and you will appear.”

Fjord searched his face in the darkness, lit only by the light from the house and the moon overhead. Caduceus looked contemplative, calm. “Did someone appear when you needed a miracle? At some point?”

Caduceus met his eyes, slowly smiling. “Yes.”

He wanted to ask, but Caduceus would have told him if he were prepared to share. Instead, Fjord nodded. He turned the words over his mind, imagining. Someday, he might be the miracle someone needed. The idea that he could be to someone what Caduceus was to him, even if just for a moment, was overwhelming in its warmth and humility.

Well, maybe he didn’t want to be exactly what Caduceus was to him to someone else, but that was different.

Caduceus pulled back his hand, content to sit in silence while Fjord tried not to blush and give himself away.

“I think I should get to bed,” Fjord said suddenly, when it was clear he was losing that battle. “Up early and all that.”

“Of course.”

Fjord stood, and seeing Caduceus start to get up offered his hand. He helped lift the firbolg to his feet, enjoying the closeness for just a moment. Just a quick breath. Then, they were off into the house.

Fjord climbed the steps, then went to his door. He looked back to see Caduceus continue to the third floor. He hoped this crush might end soon. He understood now why Beau was so dramatic about her own feelings, on the rare occasion when she would confide in Fjord. There was something about having feelings for a friend that was different. Deeper, warmer, and also more frightening. A greater risk. A deeper hurt.

He tried to shake the thoughts from his mind as he readied for bed. He had one, last test tomorrow. Then it would be summer, and he would have two uninterrupted months without school. Which meant more time for work, if he wanted to save money, or more time to work on his bond with the Wildmother.

Or more time to hang around the house with Caduceus. Which was not in the plan at all, and had no bearing on his expectations for the next two months.

With a deep sigh and a little prayer to the Wildmother, Fjord tried to avoid his problems with sleep.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Moth Work Intro + False Idol | Writing Update

Hey People of Earth! 

Today I thought I’d do a writing update on a project I’ve mentioned a lot in my vlogs but haven’t mentioned as of yet on here! This is a personal ‘passion project’ that I’ve been picking away at since January and have recently taken on as my transition project from Rewired to my next book.

So yee! MOTH WORK (or ‘boys on a boat’ for those who keep up with the vlogs lols) has been my current project for the last few weeks since finishing REWIRED. I didn’t really mean to expand it as much as I have as it simply started off as a spinoff story of my boys Lonan and Harrison which I write every few months when I’m having a breakdown and need something to cheer me up. :-)

I’ve mentioned a few of these stories in the past (like Fishbowl and Mandarin), though this story is a bit different, as I’ve expanded it quite a lot more than I intended to! If you aren’t super caught up with Rewired, I’d definitely scroll through a few of my last updates so this one will make more sense! 

What’s it about? 

Moth Work is a FOSTERED spinoff story following Lonan and Harrison (dumb+dumber) at the peak of their relationship. I *was saying* that the plot went loosely as follows: after finding a photograph of a woman in Lonan’s father’s dark room, they set out to find her, HOWEVER, because I never stick to plans, I have yet to follow through with this main plot thread, lol. Vaguely, I’d just say the most important part of this story is their relationship at its most fragile because who is plot I don’t know her. 

Moth Work follows the events after REWIRED, and is a bit of a bridge between it and the next book. This makes it kind of hard to explain because a) it’s in a different POV, and b) context, but hopefully that makes sense! In essence: Lonan + Harrison’s relationship is big sad and Harrison tries to make it less big sad and it gets even more big sad. 

I’ll share a very quick profile of both of the boys so there’s some context for the following excerpts I’ll share!

Harrison

My boy

Generally very outgoing, tho around Lonan this fizzles. Only wants the best for Lonan despite their history. He’s the ‘main’ narrator of the piece (third limited to him though I’m guilty of head hopping lol), so the work has a softer tone than I’m used to. Though Harrison tries to be a Macho Man, around Lonan he’s most himself--mellow, a lil stupidly romantic, and vulnerable. 

Lonan

My problematic son/probably should be cancelled 

The “issue” in the relationship loool. He’s emotionally immature and lacks accountability, but because of his past, lacks the ability to recognize these faults and work on them. Because of this, he’s fundamentally stayed the same for the last few works he’s been in (if not gotten worse). Lonan requires a lot of emotional assistance, though he isn’t self-aware enough to recognize this. This is often the cause of much conflict. 

Conception:

Like I mentioned, I often write short spinoff stories following these boys because it’s a safe happy place for when I’m feeling stressed. This is basically how this piece started, though I’ve continued it for different reasons which I’ll get into. I don’t remember how the first scene was brainstormed, but I do know when I started writing this a few months ago, I wanted it to be a lot longer than my previous stories--a place where I could just dump my writing, even when it wasn’t good. I think I did this to cope with the stress of my writing class honestly, lol, I think I needed a break from ‘serious’ writing AKA a place I could just goof off and have some fun. 

The writing bit: 

Writing this story has been a bit inconsistent. I’ve been drafting it in little pieces since the beginning of the year, and only recently picked it up as more of a ‘full-time’ work. This is subject to change depending on whether or not I get more of book 7 done. I’ve gone from writing 20 words a day to 0 to 1000--there’s really no consistency with the drafting process here. 

I have recently decided that I’ll most likely expand this into either a novella or novel itself because there is literally so much tea left to explore and it’s surpassed 10k words. Drafting Moth Work has been so helpful in easing me back into the world of FOSTERED and piecing together the huge time gap from the end of book 6 to the start of book 7. I’ve been a bit anxious to really dive into book 7 for the fear of the unknown, so inching myself closer to that timeline through this project has been very helpful!

The editing bit:

I recently did an edit around the line level for this entire piece (it’s about 12k words right now) because a) it really needed it b) I was losing steam/starting to get embarrassed and c) I needed a refresher of what had happened because je suis tres forgetful. This edit made me feel so much better about the project. It initially started off as a work where the writing didn’t actually matter and this mentality was working until I got so embarrassed of the prose I found it difficult to read through old scenes to refresh myself and thus couldn’t productively draft. 

This project isn’t written exactly in my usual style--it’s pretty stripped back and actually reminds me a lot of how my style would’ve been in book 3 had I been a better writer four years ago lol. I think the looser style works for the voice/the story itself but I def wouldn’t categorize this as litfic (what I usually write). Although the prose isn’t very complex, it took me a really long time to get comfortable enough to edit?? But once I got into the rhythm of it a few days ago, I completed the edit fairly quickly, and I’m 100% feeling better about the project overall! Though the prose is still not my top priority I’m not as embarrassed of it currently lols. 

I also divided the project into chapters because it was getting pretty long to just be one mass of text. I currently have 3 chapters. This update will cover chapter 1. 

Playlist:

Yo this is literally the best part of writing this project, lol, I get to listen to so much different music?? I’ve made a comprehensive playlist for this story with a character by character breakdown (if anyone wants to see that/highlights, let me know!). This playlist pulls from every song from my library, so we span genres and artists like crazy. Nothing But Thieves has been the primary artist for this story (specifically their self-titled album). These songs (all NBT oop) are the most relevant if you want to get the general tone lol (anything with a star has explicitly inspired the project):

Excuse Me*

Honey Whiskey*

Tempt You (Evocatio)*

If I Get High (II)

Gods

Lover, Please Stay*

I Was Just A Kid*

Get Better

Hell, Yeah*

Afterlife

Reset Me

Particles

Sorry

Number 13

Excerpts:

I don’t have *many* because prose hasn’t really been a top priority for this project, but I’ll try to include at least one per scene. 

This is one of the opening paragraphs from chapter one which I’ve titled ‘False Idol’. In short, the chapter follows the boys first attempting to destroy the dark room and then getting distracted and eventually not pulling through after Harrison finds a picture of Ominous Lady. 

The chapter’s chronology is wild so we can break it up as follows:

Scene A

The boys enter the dark room with the intention of burning it down

Harrison reaches for his lighter and drops it which prompts him to find the photograph of Ominous Lady

Him and Lonan mildly argue about Ominous Lady until Lonan takes it too seriously and throws a tantrum :-DD

Scene B

Not really a full scene, just a bridge between scene A and C.

Harrison has been waiting for Lonan to return to their campsite for the entire day and he decides to at the very last moment

“hey so i’m unable to apologize for anything but also! cigarette! let’s share it! lungs!” 

Scene C

The boys exercising their canoeing skills

This leads us to our first “beat”.

Lonan interrupts Harrison’s peaceful evening by having a mild crisis

This takes place right after the events of Lolita, Lolita (chapter 16 of REWIRED). We then jump back to the fictive present.

 This alternates like 5 more times lol then the chapter is done!

The following excerpt describes their entry into the dark room. Don’t know how smart it is to be smoking in a room full of highly flammable material but we out here.

I don’t think she’s particularly special but I also don’t hate her so!! hoping an aesthetic photo will make it read better :’)) I ! don’t ! think ! it does ! but !

Harrison shoulders the door first, traps it open with the clip of his boot. Dust and streaks of light rake behind him as he pushes through cardboard boxes, mountains of photo paper on the ground. Lonan follows silently, still wearing Harrison’s jacket. Trails of smoke from his cigarette catch in the negatives hanging by the clothespins, chemical peel between the layers of ink. In one hand he tends to his cigarette, and in the next, lugs in the canister of gasoline they found in the cabin’s cellar. As Harrison fumbles for his flashlight, Lonan sets it down by the table so it sloshes like the Pacific. 

This is a bit of when Harrison finds the photograph of Ominous Lady:

He turns the photograph over, and shines the flashlight on it. It’s scratched and developed wrong, little bits of orange obscuring the woman’s face, but it’s very much a woman. A dark bob and bangs in her eyes, jewelry hanging from her septum. Sunshades enough to reflect the European street behind her. The discreet jet of ink on her skin, blues and greens peeking out from under her sleeve. Izzy, he recognizes. Lonan’s mother. 

Nudging Lonan with an elbow, “I didn’t know your mom has tattoos.” 

Lonan takes the photograph cautiously, holding it by the corners like it’ll burn him. His brow trembles, but it takes him only seconds to say, “That’s not my mom.” He takes the flashlight from Harrison and examines it closer, fingers nimble and tracing the edges. In the grey light of the dark room, he looks nullified. Just a monochromatic hum of chromosomes and skin. 

that’s not my MOM

After the boys find the photograph, Lonan gets triggered at Harrison’s suggestion to find the woman (he presumes her to be someone involved with his father) and promptly has a tantrum and exits. This leads us into the next scene where the boys! actually! get! on! boat! In this scene Lonan tries to say sorry for his tantrum by offering Harrison a cigarette (lol) and because Harrison is hopelessly romantic and also hopelessly dumb, says yeeeees sir! They go for a canoe ride on the water. Thought it was going to be sweet, ended up being a shitstorm but!

This paragraph is kind of toast but:

The canoe isn’t hard to get into the water. After a few nudges from the dock into the slow dip of tide, it stabilizes easily. Harrison is convinced it will capsize but Lonan knows it won’t. They take one ore each, and ignore the life jackets at the back of the shed.

The moon is large and mesmerizing. As Harrison and Lonan take turns pushing the canoe into the water, mast first, then its entire belly, it colours them silver. Lonan’s protected the cigarette in the pocket of his shirt. Harrison stares at its faint outline stretched under the fabric. Lonan steps into the canoe first, rocking with the current, and extends a hand for Harrison. He pulls him in and they row until the cabin is the size of a fingernail, the wave steady and dense. Each cut of the paddle feels like plunging a scalpel into flesh and Harrison watches Lonan do it easily. In the distance, the cabin doesn’t look so menacing. Reeve has left the lamp on by the loft, and it glimmers back like an eyeball, effervescent and tiny. Nothing but a reflective penny in the distance.

Here’s some Harrison being lame:

The water laps at the base of the canoe, and Ris reaches over and touches it like it’s holy. He makes the sign of the cross and it feels perverse, cold water dripping from forehead to chin.

For a while it’s quiet. Just the distant hum of crickets, the slash of the paddle, and the off-chance flash of something in the distance; an animal, a flashlight. Ris tries not to think about Lonan’s dad, like a dead man slithering through the water, following their boat. He picks at a saltine, sucks it between his tongue meditatively. Against the sky, Lonan is backlit and lovely and flecks of his hair peek up from around the jacket’s collar. Harrison wonders if as a child, everyone said he looked just like his father. 

On top of lacking accountability, Lonan is also a professional canoeist so he takes over while Harrison eats saltines and reminisces about an encounter they had weeks prior. This leads into the solid chunk of backstory that I weirdly jump in an out of for the entire chapter. :)

Backstory consists of drunk Lonan having a crisis while Harrison tries to have a peaceful evening of taping up his drawings to his bedroom ceiling. The following excerpt describes the moment right after Lonan enters the room.

Harrison’s lips secured around his cigarette, his hand mid-air with packing tape and line drawings of the moon. A tinny country song dribbled through the radio. The minute-meal he’d heat up in the microwave lying forgotten and cold on his desk. Harrison set the pile of drawings down and turned off the music.

“Emily left?” Lonan asked. He kept his face upward, stared clumsily at the ceiling. Harrison watched his eyes trace the new drawings, following the uncalculated pattern. 

This paragraph is made up of 5 similes and this is the only reason I’m sharing it :)))):

Lonan has stopped paddling. The canoe sits in the middle of the lake, lifeless, like a bone in the water. He’s turned so Harrison can see him in profile, and Ris can’t tell if it’s relieving or worrying to see his face. Lonan’s jaw is taut, like there are words he wants to say there but can’t. Filling up the hollow bone. He blinks slowly, like he’s trying to re-centre himself, his chest quivering with breaths meant to steady him. The water laps at the base of the canoe, whirling. Dark hair tangles down his cheeks like the fingers of a poltergeist. 

I think that’s a pretty good way to end this post lol! How many similes have you put in one paragraph? What’s your record lol this is probably mine!

Hope y’all enjoy the intro to MOTH WORK. I have two other chapters already written which I’ll update on in a separate post! For now I hope you like this more laid back project, let me know what you think!

---Rachel

[i-am-the-entertainer]

RevieWBY Volume 6, Chapter 8: “Dead End”

You know, in retrospect, it was kind of our own fault for hyping it up to be Winter. But good on them for not making this new character like a big reveal.

There’s really not that much to say about this episode overall. I think it’s along the lines of Chapter 2 and Chapter 4: it’s dealing with the aftermath of something and setting up for something much more major down the line, thus it can’t really stand on its own. But like with those two, there’s some interesting stuff going on in this episode that’s worth touching upon, especially when it comes to worldbuilding.

Oh, and fyi: some major fandom crtq at the end.

Such Wit! Such Tenacity! Much wow!

This chapter offers up a new perspective on the Atlas military: Caroline Cordovin and her nationalist, racist attitude. We’ve been told in the past that Atlas is the kind of modern military nation, acting without reason, being very self-centered, blah blah blah. The problem is, we haven’t really been shown that: the only real Atlas military characters have been Ironwood and Winter, and (being generous) they’re the good guys. Volume 4 kind of showed just how shitty Jacques Schnee and his circle of buddies can be, but it wasn’t really a perspective on the military: in fact, in the post-gala scene Ironwood, as the military’s representation, seemed the direct counterpoint to the rich assholes of Atlas. With this in mind, this volume has sort of run with the assumption that Atlas’s support will be a piece of cake, but Cordovin present a reasonable obstacle while also giving us more insight into the kind of people who actually make up the Atlas military.

Qrow v. Ruby

Based on his bit from this volume’s intro sequence, how he’s been reacting to the revelations regarding Ozpin, and some comments from Miles on this week’s RWBY Rewind about how he feels awful because Qrow is making all the wrong decisions, this is definitely the volume where Qrow is going to officially hit rock bottom (if he hasn’t hit it already). Whereas Team RWBY is willing to stick to their guns about getting to Atlas even after Jinn’s story and Brunswick Farms, Qrow has given up. Remember, he had possibly the strongest reaction to finding out Ozpin doesn’t have a plan, because he devoted his entire life to Ozpin’s supposed cause and lost so many friends and family along the way: another obstacle has kicked him down even further. After three seasons of Qrow being the drunk uncle who’s still a hero, we’re closing in on dark territory for him.

Ruby has always kind of just accepted Qrow’s alcoholism as one of his quirks, but with this volume’s events she realizes it’s an actual problem, offering a new angle on their relationship after it’s remained at a constant level since Volume 3. This arc is developing quite well: from cautious awareness in Chapter 5 to an attempt to reach out in Chapter 6 to complete frustration in this chapter. I’m curious as to where this will go: it’s the most development/insight into Ruby we’ve gotten that wasn’t straight up told to us.

Well, You’d Be Mad Too

With the previous episode, it vaguely seemed like JNR finding out the truth about Ozpin was about to get glossed over, but NOPE. Their reactions were exactly as they should be, if not strong enough. It’s important to remember that they lost one of their closest friends in the fight between good and evil, and they have essentially been told that her death was for nothing. It’s almost on par with Qrow’s reaction, especially when you take into account how much Qrow has lost from siding with Ozpin all this time. I’m not defending their actions, especially Jaune’s, but rationalizing them in the context of this show. They were not going to take this news lightly, and anything lighter would have been unrealistic.

Can I just add: sidelining JNR for half the volume was a good writing decision. Not only does it decrease the number of characters we need to pay attention to for a storyline that needs razor-sharp focus in order for it to be delivered well, it prevents the utter mess that would’ve occurred if they AND Qrow had been present for Jinn’s story. It also provides a counterpoint to Team RWBY’s perspective: besides having witnessed everything in person, they have had a few days and a traumatic experience to rationalize their next moves. JNR has had no such thing, and they’re going to have to deal with this differently.

Learning Is Fun

In an example of planting-payoff, we finally get some insight into the silver-eyed warriors, three years after we were even aware it was a concept, and three years since we knew anything new about it other than you could use it against Grimm. I like the wink at just how little Ruby (and by extension, the audience) knows about such an important power.

This is a moment where a lot of information we get comes from talking, which is why I think this episode may feel a little slow, comparable to some of Volume 4 and 5′s lower moments. That said, I think the show deserves some leeway on this because this volume so far has really stuck to show-don’t-tell, plus since this is much-desired information having it in the first place is useful no matter how it’s delivered. It can also be said it makes sense to have this story delivered through dialogue, as presumably that’s how Maria learned: it’s like sharing a legend orally, and emphasizing just how rare the silver-eyed warriors are and how dangerous being one can be.

There’s something interesting going on in this scene that a few people have touched upon: Ruby commenting that her silver eyes were activated when she saw Jaune and Cinder sparring, prompting Maria to suggest that perhaps there was something she wasn’t seeing. On first thought, it refers to the fact that Cinder has a Grimm arm. Except the thing is, there’s no point in framing it the way they do: it’s framed as though there’s something mysterious for the viewer to think about, but we all know Cinder’s arm is Grimm. What does this imply about Cinder? Well, we know the whole reason she got the Fall Maiden powers was because she cheated: she used what could be best described as a parasite Grimm. We also know from her “training” with Salem that the new arm is almost a separate entity from her, but she needs the ability to control it herself rather than the other way around. There appears to be a broader implication that Cinder’s connection to the Grimm may be stronger than just a supplement to her powers or a prosthetic to her lost arm: is she becoming a Grimm/Human hybrid along the lines of Salem?

But then again, I could be overthinking it, it could just be an acknowledgment/reminder that Ruby herself doesn’t know about Cinder’s arm. But I guess it’s something to keep an eye on for the rest of the volume.

Conclusions

This is another set-up episode, and it’s not a particularly exciting one at that. It’s hard to judge these on their own considering they’re designed to service a larger storyline, but overall I just thought “Okay, things are gonna be harder than they thought, they reacted as we thought they’d react, we finally got some insight into stuff, and we’ve got our next major arc.” So I’ll just accept this as it is: straightforward set-up, some insight into the show’s mythology. I didn’t hate it or love it, I didn’t dislike it or like it, it was just eh. And considering pretty much all the chapters last volume made me feel “eh” and most of the ones this volume haven’t, I’m still happy to call Volume 6 an improvement.

By the way...if you’ve been on the RWBY tag these past couple of days, you’ve probably noticed my posts about the highly entitled part of this fandom complaining about the sneak peek for the next chapter on RWBY Rewind having animation errors, and the more rwde part of this fandom once again shitting on Miles for calling out someone for being an asshole about it. I admit, I’m getting a little too worked up about this, but honestly this whole business has really made my blood boil over the past week, a week I’ve been trying to use to relax after school let out for break, so, rant time.

IT WAS SO CLEARLY UNFINISHED, DID YOU SERIOUSLY THINK THEY WERE GONNA BROADCAST THE EPISODE WITH SUCH A BLATANT ERROR? It happened because they weren’t done with the episode before they sent the clip in for RWBY Rewind’s live broadcast. And don’t give me that bullshit about how you’re paying with a FIRST account for a 60 second sneak peek to be perfect, you’re paying 3 bucks a month so you can watch the episodes a week early, you know, like the rest of us with FIRST accounts are doing, never mind the hundreds of hours of exclusive content we get in that subscription! And shit, if you’re really on about those 60 seconds of a thirty minute RWBY aftershow needing to be perfect, you could’ve just watched the version that they put up online afterwards, which is so clearly the finished version not just because they fixed the compositing error but they added ambient effects and additional pedestrians in certain shots! I mean, I don’t even watch RWBY Rewind live half the time, most people don’t, I’ve just been paying to watch it starting the day after it’s recorded!

And god forbid Miles tell an asshole he’s being an asshole! I mean, how do you hold up A FUCKING 60 SECOND SNEAK PEEK as evidence of a drop in the show’s animation quality?! Have you been watching this fucking season? The animation is the best it’s been in ages. Like it’s actually absurd how much detail and attention they’ve put into shots, even non-fighting scenes! And don’t even get me started on how good the fights have been! Better sparingly used quality fights than overused often subpar fights (god, Volume 5 was a shitshow)!

You idiots go on and on about “Oh, I’m harsh on this show because I love it! They should listen to legitimate criticism no matter how I deliver it!” Newsflash: you don’t love this show. At this point you’re only criticizing it because you hate it. Because if you were actually criticizing it out of love for the show, you’d be pointing out actual issues this volume. You’d be saying something like “Oh, this kid of information should have been dropped earlier” or “This volume should not have set up Adam as a major player only to more or less not use him for the past 7 chapters.” Or, you know, point out actual problems with the show, even nitpicks like the weird fireplace effects at Brunswick Farms or some animation errors that popped up in Chapter 6. But the funny thing is, you’re not pointing that out. You’re pointing out a 60 second sneak peek that was clearly presented with no pretense of it being the final product and acting like you’ve found the ace in the hole, the proof that CRWBY is lazy and disrespecting of Monty’s legacy.

You don’t love this show. You love to pretend that you’re protecting the show from the very people that make it. But the fact is, it’s them who are in the writers’ rooms, it’s them who are sitting at the computers, it’s them who make the show you pretend to love. And if you’ve resigned yourself to just hating whatever it is they put out, then I’m sorry, but you’re not a fan of what the show is now. So you can either keep moaning about “Oh, Monty wouldn’t have done this,” or maybe accept the fact that there’s no way the show could do whatever it is Monty did because no one can do what Monty would do. They can only do what they do. It’s no longer just Monty’s show, it’s CRWBY’s show too. And if you’re just never gonna be satisfied with that, if every little thing they do and say is gonna make your blood boil, if every choice they make is completely against the show you’ve built up inside your head, then just don’t watch it. It would make all of us, including you, feel better.

[shasta627]

EoA Appreciation Week - Day 6: Gabe

Gabe is definitely one of the most interesting and fun characters in the show (in my opinion), and since it’s Gabe appreciation day, I decided to write a fic in where Gabe’s actions are, well, appreciated :) 

No one saw it coming until it was too late.

It was obviously an accident—no one was trying to purposely sabotage the palace—but the danger was just as real, and Gabe was only thankful that he was able to get everyone out alive before the fire began its scorching rampage. The cause of the fire was still unknown, but by the time Armando finally noticed the smoke it was too large to put out and spreading fast, and the origin became the least of their problems.

Gabe could still vividly picture all the events from the previous night. He’d just finished overseeing the training of a few new recruits and was about to turn in for the night when he caught the peculiar smell of wood smoke. He didn’t think anything of it, supposing it was just someone in the village cooking their dinner outside, but then he heard his name being called in terror.

“Captain! Captain!”

Gabe recognized the voice, belonging to one of the recruits he’d just seen a matter of minutes ago.

“Josue? What’s wrong?” asked Gabe immediately, reaching for his sword as he saw the look of pure panic on the young boy’s face.

“Fire!” Josue managed to splutter. “Palace—fire—everywhere!”

Gabe stared at him in astonishment. “The palace is on fire?” He then remembered the smoke in the air, and felt his stomach twist with horror.

No.

Without waiting for a response, Gabe raced out into the courtyard and looked up with a gasp, for the whole west wing of the palace was engulfed in flames. No, no, no, his mind kept chanting, and it took everything in Gabe not to freeze up and stare dumbstruck at the horrifying sight.

“What should we do?” he heard Josue cry from behind him, and it was just what Gabe needed to snap him out of his daze.

“Sound the alarm, alert everyone to the situation, start a bucket brigade at the docks leading to the palace, and I’ll gather up a team to go and rescue anyone still inside,” he ordered, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded. Josue nodded and dashed off, while Gabe raced to the guard barracks and rounded up as many people as he could.

Almost everyone was aware of the fire by now, either due to the loud ringing of the alarm bell or else just the raging flames lighting up the night sky. When Gabe and his team made it to the scene he immediately ran into Armando, who nearly sobbed with relief at the sight of him.

“There’s people still in there!” he exclaimed with alarm. “Once I saw the smoke I tried to tell everyone that I could, but then I panicked and knew I had to leave, and I was just about to go and get you but you’re here now so please, you have to help!”

“Of course we will.” Gabe laid a comforting hand on Armando’s shoulder. “Where’s the royal family?”

“I don’t know!” Armando cried in near hysterics. “I don’t know!”

“Okay, it’s okay, we’ll find them,” Gabe quickly assured. “Just—stay here!” He turned around and ordered a few of his guards to take a head count of everyone safely out of the palace, and then sprinted into the inferno.  

The heat quickly became unbearable and the smoke burned his eyes and lungs, but Gabe plunged ahead, not willing to stop until everyone was safely outside. He managed to find a few of the palace staff and swiftly escorted them to the exit, and then turned around to race back inside again. He continued his search, calling out to anyone who still might be in the hallways and checking every room he could see, when he saw Mateo stumble out of the library, covered head to toe in soot.

“Mateo!” Gabe cried in alarm, rushing toward his friend and helping to steady him. “Are you okay?”

Mateo gave a feeble nod. “I had…to go back…for the Codex Maru…” he explained through a fit of coughs, stopping to double over with his hands on his knees.

“C’mon, we’ve got to get you outta here.” Gabe slung Mateo’s arm over his shoulder and helped him race toward the exit.

“Have you seen Elena?” Gabe questioned once they were back in open air.

Mateo looked up at Gabe with concern. “Yeah, right after we…discovered the fire. She went to find…her grandparents and sister. You mean she isn’t back yet?” he huffed.

Gabe quickly scanned the sea of faces outside the palace and found he couldn’t spot Elena’s face anywhere, or any of the royal family for that matter. “No,” he announced dejectedly. “Stay here, I’ll find her.” Before Mateo could say another word, Gabe turned and ran back inside again.

The fire was spreading fast, and it was only a matter of time before no one could get in anymore—or out. Thankfully most of the kingdom had gathered together to start a bucket brigade and supply water to put out the fire, but Gabe knew that no matter how fast they went, they couldn’t outrun the flames.

“Elena!” Gabe hollered. “Luisa! Francisco! Isabel! Where are you?” he called again, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of the fire.

As he tried to listen to the sound of voices possibly calling in return, a large ear-splitting crack reached Gabe’s ears instead, and he looked up just in time to dive out of the way as a large piece of the ceiling came tumbling down from above him. He landed on the hard floor with a grunt, but then felt a scorching pain race up his arm and realized his jacket was on fire. With a hoarse yelp he managed to pat out the flames, but he could still feel the tantalizing sting of the burn the fire had left on his arm.

I need to find everyone, and fast, Gabe thought, desperation overtaking the weariness in his limbs. He redoubled his efforts to search throughout all the burning rooms of the palace, and then he spotted three individuals making their way toward him through the furious flames.  

“Elena!” Gabe called with relief, and saw that her grandparents were with her as well. “Hurry, you’ve all got to get out of here.” He reached out to help Luisa as the older woman almost stumbled on the smoldering debris littering the floor. “Are you the last ones inside? Where’s Isa?”

Elena frowned at Gabe as she swiped her hand across her forehead, leaving a large patch a soot in its wake. “You mean you didn’t see Isa and Christina outside?”

Gabe shook his head, his stomach clenching at the horrified look on Elena’s face.

“Isabel is still inside?” Francisco exclaimed through the fabric he had covering his mouth. “We must find her immediately!”

“We’ve got to get you outside first,” Gabe declared, but Elena reached out and grabbed his arm.

“No, you go and find Isa, I’ll get my abuelos out from here,” Elena ordered.

“But what about you, will you be—?”

“Gabe, you have to trust me when I say I can take care of myself,” Elena interrupted him. “Please, find Isa and Christina; I’ll come help you once I get my abuelos to safety.”

Gabe could tell from the hard look in Elena’s eyes that the issue was no longer up to discussion, so he simply nodded, figuring that arguing would only waste more time.

“Alright. Be safe.” He then dashed away, searching high and low for the younger princess and her friend. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been inside the burning palace by now, but the heat was becoming intense, and every breath he took felt like he was inhaling shards of glass. “Isabel! Christina!” he shouted, but knew they’d hardly be able to hear him. He turned to go down another hallway when he had to stop short in front of a pile of burning debris. He was contemplating on whether he should try to crawl under it or just vault over the top when he heard a cry of frustration coming from the other side, followed by the unmistakable sound of coughing.

I found them! Gabe realized with triumph, and with that in mind he found the energy to hurdle the large pile of debris and make it to the other side.

“Gabe?” he heard Isabel’s voice from behind him, and he turned around to see the young princess standing there with a look of relief on her face, her friend Christina riding on her back.

“Are you guys okay?” Gabe immediately asked. “What happened? Elena said you went out way ahead of her.”

“We were okay, until a piece of debris fell from the ceiling and caught Christina’s wheelchair on fire,” Isabel explained hoarsely. “I’ve been carrying her on my back, but we weren’t getting very far, and then we got trapped here.”

“I’m so sorry,” Christina mumbled, her voice barely audible over the fire. “I’m slowing us all down.”

“It’s not your fault,” Gabe comforted, while Isabel told her, “Don’t be silly, Gabe will help us now.”

Another piece of the ceiling came tumbling down right behind the three of them, prompting Gabe to sweep up Christina and secure her on his back.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Gabe announced, noting how close the fire was closing in on them. If they didn’t get out now, they’d find themselves prey to the hungry inferno. The way he’d came was now completely impossible to get through, especially now with a person on his back, so he quickly made his way further down the hallway, Isabel trailing close behind him.

“Quickly, turn here,” Gabe instructed as they rounded the corner and found themselves in another hallway. They made a series of twists and turns and retraced their steps several times, trying to find a way to the exit, and Gabe felt himself grow more weary and exhausted as the seconds ticked by.

I don’t know if I can make it, he thought more than once, but then he remembered Christina and Isabel and how he promised to help them get to safety, and his resolve hardened and he found the energy to keep moving forward.

Gabe wasn’t sure how long the three of them were in there—five, ten, twenty minutes—but when he eventually saw the flight of stairs leading to the entrance hall he could’ve wept with relief. They had just made their way down the stairs and out into the open air again when he saw Elena barreling towards them, her arms outstretched as she wrapped her sister in a rib-breaking hug.

“You’re okay!” she cried with joy. “I was so worried, but I knew Gabe would save you.”

Christina’s father had come running over only a few seconds after Elena, taking his daughter from Gabe’s shoulders and thanking him profusely. Gabe could only nod in acknowledgement at the man’s gratefulness, and then grabbed the shoulder of the first royal guard he saw.

“Is everyone out…and accounted for?” he gasped, his throat completely raw.

The guard nodded. “Yes, sir. Everyone is safe.”

Gabe released a sigh of relief, and then collapsed to the ground, completely and utterly exhausted.

~

The fire was eventually put out, and the next day all the townspeople went back to their daily routine, while Elena and Mateo began to reconstruct the palace with their magic.

Gabe helped by searching through all the rubble and pulling out items that were still salvageable or had been untouched by the fire, but was interrupted from his task by the sudden appearance of Isabel and Christina.

“How’re you girls today?” Gabe asked as he continued to toss aside debris.

“Okay, thanks to you,” Isabel stated with a grin.

“We just wanted to say thank you, for saving our lives,” Christina said to him earnestly, her eyes shining with gratefulness.

Gabe paused in his sorting to smile at the young girls. “Well, they were two lives worth saving.”

After a bit more idle chat, both girls then waved goodbye to him, letting him get back to his work, but not before Isabel gave him a fleeting hug, declaring that he was the best captain of the guard she’d ever known.

As they left Gabe couldn’t help but smile at their retreating forms, once again reminded of how much he loved his job.

He might not always get to be a hero and have the grand, daring adventures he dreamed about in his youth, but he got to make a difference in the lives of the people of Avalor, and for him, that was more than enough.

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, here is a list of bottom Louis fic recs where Harry and Louis are already in a relationship. There are a lot of good ones for this list, so this is only part one of the list - part two is here.

Happy reading!

1) Precious Little Diamond (I’ll Give It All To You) | Explicit | 2044 words

Alpha!Harry/omega!Louis PWP written for this textpost: Established relationship H/L with alpha!Harry just popping his knot in omega!louis and it’s his favourite part; just laying down and cuddling as they mate but louis just wriggles around in his lap until he can grab his xbox controller and starts playing video games with Harry still inside him and Harry’s like “??!?????!???!!!???” And louis’ like “oh shush it takes forever” and scores a goal on the game

2) Tie You Up and Make Me Scream | Explicit | 2166 words

AU where Harry teases Louis and it becomes a game until they cant handle it anymore and escape to have tent sex while the rest of the boys are in the other tents.

3) True North | Explicit | 2575 words

Note: This fic is locked and can be read by AO3 users only.

Altered-canon non-au set between November 2012 and January 7th, 2013.

4) What’s Yours Is Mine (What’s Mine Is Ours) | Mature | 2982 words

Prompt: Something about Louis always waiting until the last minute to pack his bag for tour so one time Harry does it for him and then they’re thousands of miles away by the time Louis figures out Harry hasn’t actually packed anything useful. Whether it’s because Harry is just genuinely useless at packing for other people or because he wants Louis to be forced to wear his clothes is up in the air. Also Louis refusing to wear Harry’s clothes out of pure spite until Harry makes it up to him.

5) Double Dog Dare Ya | Explicit | 3411 words

The one where the boys play some truth or dare and Harry has a one track mind.

6) A Touch Of Your Love | Explicit | 3856 words

Harry’s physical training has been intense. He wakes up before the sun to run. He spends long hours in the gym boxing and lifting weights.

Louis usually likes working out with Harry when they’re on tour, and even now he enjoys going on a run or boxing a bit with Harry. But Harry hasn’t seemed to stop moving since he accepted the role in Dunkirk. And it’s not that Louis always needs to be the center of Harry’s attention, but he very much wants to be.

7) It’s Your Soul That I’m Caught In Yet You Don’t Hear Me Call Your Name | Explicit | 4433 words

The one in which Harry goes out for a run in the early morning rain without telling Louis and Louis wakes up alone, cold and needy.

8) Hook’s Intention | Explicit | 5156 words

Harry hadn’t realized what, exactly, being the Captain Hook to Louis’ Peter Pan would entail.

9) But I Want You | Explicit | 5200 words

After their successful night at the VMAs, Harry can't keep his hands off Louis for long.

10) A Gentleman’s Arrangement | Explicit | 5205 words

Harry has been in the countryside, Louis has been trapped in town awaiting the London season, and three months apart is far, far too long.

11) ‘Cause Lately I’ve Been Waking Up Alone | Explicit | 5667 words

“Ow ow ow ow,” Harry continues cursing, hopping back and forth on the balls of his toes and trying uselessly to cradle his dick.  Louis’s eyes fall to the sink, where he can see a torn-open package and what looks like a sheet of instructions.

“Clone-a-Willy?” he reads out loud, not sure he’s reading right.

...or, Harry gives Louis a very special sex toy for an early birthday present, and Louis uses it on Skype when Harry's in LA.

12) Power Inside | Explicit | 5861 words

Louis wrinkles his nose and pokes Harry again. “You want a baby,” he repeats.

Again, Harry frowns. “Uh, yeah, Lou, I want a baby. So do you.”

Where is this even going. Harry honestly has no clue.

Abruptly, Louis stops frowning and practically throws himself off of Harry, splaying himself out on his side of the bed, arms spread wide. “Okay. Let’s make a baby, then.”

Can eyebrows get permanently attached to a hairline? Harry has a feeling he’s going to find out. “You do realize - ” he starts.

“Yes, Harry, I realize,” Louis says, stroking his fingers over the inside of his own thigh, ruking his shorts up. “You gonna shut up about it and give me a baby or am I gonna have to go out and find someone else to fulfill my deepest desires?”

He’s a nutjob. He’s a complete nutjob. Harry’s in love with a complete nutjob.

13) We’ll Stumble Through Heaven | Explicit | 6504 words

Louis likes to be a good boy for his alpha.

14) You Drive Me Wild (You Know You Do) | Explicit | 6632 words

Their management informs them that they have an interview right before the ARIAs, and it isn't until he's in a suit, seated on a couch between Liam and Zayn, that he gets the idea.

The interviewer, Angus, smiles at them, right before the cameras roll on, and a metaphorical light bulb goes off inside Louis' head. He's perfect. Well, not as perfect as Harry, but enough. He's attractive, attractive enough to drive Harry crazy, and he doesn't even think of the consequences of his actions, just decides right then. It's all Harry's fault anyway. Louis should be allowed to have a little fun.

15) I’m Broken, Do You Hear Me? | Explicit | 6957 words

Louis starts acting weird and distant around Harry, and it takes Harry a little while to put together what's wrong. When he finally does, he's determined to help Louis see just how much he loves every piece of him.

16) Back Where I Belong | Explicit | 7217 words

Harry’s trying to have a conversation with Nick, who he hasn’t seen in nearly three months, but the way Nick’s eyes keep darting over his shoulder every few seconds is quite distracting.

It’s ironic, because at least a quarter of the reason that he’s even talking to Nick in the first place is because he needs a distraction. He’s all too aware of exactly what’s going on behind his back.

Nick is the one who finally brings it up. “Do you think he’s doing it to spite you?”

“He’s definitely doing it to spite me,” Harry answers tightly, resisting the urge to crane his neck around so he can see. He clutches his drink a little tighter, trying to keep his tenuous control over his own movements.

17) Call Me Shallow But I’m Only Getting Deeper | Explicit | 7367 words

The one where Louis is a brat so Harry spanks him with a riding crop.

18) Rated R | Explicit | 7635 words

Louis gifts Harry with a surprise sex tape, and it accidentally makes its way into Harry's family Christmas party. Ridiculousness ensues.

19) Under the Vanilla Sky | Explicit | 8006 words

Who the hell wears a hat like that on a yacht?  That's one of the things Louis thinks when he sees Harry from across the deck of the most expensive, ridiculous boat he's ever been on.  He also thinks he'd like to get closer.  Just to see what's under those aviators.  Just to verify that, yes, in fact, those white swim trunks might be a little see-through when wet.  Just to see if someone could really be that hot in real life.  On a yacht.  In the Caribbean sea just off the coast of St. Barts.  

Here's what really happened on that yacht.

20) Love To Make Him Moan | Explicit | 8106 words

Note: This fic is locked and can be read by AO3 users only.

They fuck like they're sex starved, when they're really, really not.

21) Give It Up To Me | Explicit | 8134 words

"You're going to end up making me come with all the boys in our lounge," he finished, his tone softening the longer he spoke.

"And?" Harry murmured, placing his palm over the crevice of Louis' arse, keeping the plug nice and tight inside of him. "What if I wanted you to?"

22) Love Me in Between the Future and the Past | Explicit | 10991 words

Set during the 2013 VMAs.

Harry's scared of history repeating itself.

23) Read You For Some Kind Of Poem | Mature | 11969 words |  Sequel

He likes to imagine that he’s always aware of Harry’s eyes on him, but the spark that flashes across his body at how often Harry licks his lips while looking at his throat doesn’t feel like something he’s explicitly and consciously acknowledged before, but it feels familiar. Usual. Right.

24) In A World Apart | Explicit | 11973 words

During their off time in LA, Harry is reminded just how much he loves Louis.

25) End Of The World Tonight | Explicit | 12069 words

“You remember when you told me that you wanted to live with me for the rest of your life?” Louis asks. His voice trembles a bit, exposing exactly how much he hates what he’s about to do. How much he wishes that he wasn’t about to do it.

“I remember,” Harry says. His expression is a little lost, like he thinks that they’re about to have a fight and he’s not sure what they’re supposed to be fighting about. Louis closes his eyes because he has to, has to take a second to regain his courage. He can’t keep doing this. He can’t keep suffering, can’t keep killing himself trying to hide this. He’s ready. He’s been ready for a long time.

26) Know You Got That Thing (That I Like) | Explicit | 15798 words

In all the ways he thought about their reunion going, watching Louis finger himself open was not on the list.

27) 210 Days | Explicit | 16341 words

Harry is in the army and Louis is back in New York. Together, they get through Harry's six month leave by sending a series of letters back and forth. They've done it before, and they can do it again.

28) Temporary Tattoos, Hotel Hearts, Horizon Homes | Explicit | 17965 words

Note: This fic is locked and can be read by AO3 users only.

Louis is just 18 and ends up in 2015 for one day at Harry’s request, one day to make sure his spirit is strong and hopeful enough to take him to the X Factor and end him up where he’s supposed to be. Aka, the one where Harry makes sure Louis knows how amazing he is.

29) Can’t Fool Me | Explicit | 30162 words

AU where Louis hates fraternities and would never be into a frat boy. And one of these things is definitely not a lie.

30) Drowning In Your Eyes | Explicit | 45140 words

The Pirates of the Caribbean inspired au where Harry is a fierce pirate who holds the heart of a beautiful merman.

31) Such Good Luck | Explicit | 66205 words

Louis smiles at Harry’s words, leaning into his touch. “Tell me again.”

Smiling, Harry takes Louis into his arms. Pressing gentle kisses to his face, Harry murmurs, “In six months’ time, I will have my twenty-fifth birthday.  On that day, my portion of the inheritance will become legally mine. And I plan that very day to announce to my family that I have found love.” Harry chuckles as he runs his lips lightly along Louis’ cheekbone. “That, in fact, I found love when I was twenty-one years old, and that I have loved and been loved every day since.”

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[bughead-fic-request]

I would like to thank @leaalda for making these amazing banners.

This is an effort to spread the word about all fan fiction writers in our little fandom. If you would like to be featured or nominate a writer, please contact me. Please reblog this post if you can and check out some of @bettyluvsjuggie work!

1. First things first, if someone wanted to read your stories where can they find them.

http://archiveofourown.org/users/bettyluvsjuggie/works or my taglist on tumblr https://bettyluvsjuggie.tumblr.com/search/bljwrites

2. Tell us a little about yourself.

I’m 18 years old, and I live in England (I don’t have a posh accent and I don’t like tea- sorry for betraying the stereotypes). I’m a pretty artsy person, I love drama and especially dance- I’ve been dancing since I was like 3. You know that leg stretch thing Madelaine does as Cheryl, I can do that. I also love photography- I don’t have a great camera or anything yet, I just like taking pretty pictures.

3. What do you never leave home without?

My phone for sure.

4. Are you an early bird or a night owl?

Night owl definitely, my sleep pattern is so messed up.

5. If you could live in any fictional world which one would you choose and why?

Gosh, that’s a tough one. I’d love to visit Wonderland, as in ‘Alice in…’ because I’ve always loved that story, but I wouldn’t want to live there!

6. Who is the most famous person you’ve ever met.

I’ve met a couple of British Olympic and Paralympic medal winners but I don’t remember their names… clearly they weren’t that famous?

7. What are some of your favorite movies/TV?

I love classic 80s movies like The Breakfast Club, Ferris Bueller, St. Elmo’s Fire. I’m also a sucker for romantic movies like the first time, The Notebook, Me Before You.

TV shows? Obviously Riverdale, also Teen Wolf, Orphan Black, Brooklyn Nine Nine and Skins.

8. What are some of your favorite bands/musicians?

Varies so much across so many genres but some favourites currently are Oh Wonder, Ed Sheeran, Christine and the Queens, Halsey, All Time Low etc.

9. Favorite Books?

Anything sappy and romantic lol, and it’s a little clichéd tbf but the Fault in our Stars by John Green is one of my favourites I think, not that I’ve read it in ages, but I remember thinking it was really well written. A childhood favourite is Ballet Shoes by Noel Fielding.

10. Favorite Food?

Chicken, a broad category I know, but that’s what’s great about it! I also love spicy food.

11. Biggest pet peeve?

People who are assholes for no reason, it costs nothing to be kind.

12. What did you want to be when you were little? What do you want to be now?

I wanted to be a ballet dancer lol, how clichéd but like I said, I’m into dance. Now I want to work in psychology, probably working with children. Mostly I want to do something that makes me happy and might help make others a little happier too

13. What are your biggest fears? Do you have any strange fears?

I am f’ing terrified of needles- which sucks because I am desperate for a tattoo, but I have a panic attack when I have to get injections? Also, thunderstorms. I don’t understand how people love them because they terrify me!! I fully have to hide under a blanket and try and drown out the thunder and lightning

14. When you are on your deathbed what would be the one you’d regret not doing?

I hope that when I die, I can look back and see a full and happy life. I know that there will inevitably be ups and downs, but I hope that I will let the light outweigh the dark. So if anything, I would regret not allowing myself to be happy.

Okay… lets talk about your writing!

15. Which is your favorite of the fics you've written for the Bughead fandom?

A one-shot I wrote called Lovesick - Betty and Jughead are both sick after Jughead catches a cold from Betty. I really loved writing Jughead because he’s very over the top and whiny and it was just fun to do!

16. Which was the hardest to write, in terms of plot?

Currently my only multi-chapter is called He Was Gone - it’s set in two different timelines, sort of like flashbacks vs present time. I guess I don’t really struggle with the plot, but sometimes the words just won’t happen the way I want them to.

17. How do you come up with the ideas for you fic(s)? Do you people watch? Listen to music? Get inspired by TV/movies?

Sometimes for my one-shots I look at prompts but I never really follow it exactly, that’s why I never credit one. Does that make sense? Like I put my own spin on it. For example: if the prompt is Person A takes care of Person B while they’re sick. I say nah, make them both sick.

The rest of the time, it’ll be an idea that has manifested in my brain. Some fluffy situation that I can’t stop thinking about all day and have to put into words as soon as I can.

Sometimes I write while listening to music but it’s not essential.

18. Idea that you always wanted to write but could never make work?

I’m not good at smut but then again I haven’t really tried, maybe I will, maybe it won’t. I’m really enjoying writing fluff right now so it doesn’t bother me too much.

19. Least favorite plot point/chapter/moment you’ve written?

I can't really pinpoint an exact thing but I have definitely posted chapters of my multi-chapter that I wasn't completely satisfied with.

20. Favorite plot point/chapter/moment you’ve written?

From Lovesick again (I really do like it): “You’re very hot Jug.”

“Why thank you, my dear. And I love you very much, but I am in no state to fool around today” he deadpanned. I like sarcastic Jughead

21. Favorite character to write?

Jughead and Betty, can’t separate them sorry. I mostly only write those two anyway in my one-shots. I’m just in love with those characters and their love story.

22. Favorite line or lines of dialogue that you've written?

Jughead waited for Betty’s eyes to flutter open and meet his, meadows of green locked with floods of blue. He sighed quietly, “there is nothing in this world, or the next, that will stop me from kissing you.”

23. Best comment/review you’ve ever received?

Literally every comment I receive makes my heart sing and puts a smile on my face. There are no favourites because they all mean the world to me. Whether it’s three words or thirty, I can guarantee any comment will make me happy.

24. How do you handle bad reviews or comments?

I’ve had none so far thankfully, but I imagine I would try and not let the bad outweigh the good. I understand that’s sometimes easier said than done though.

25. If you could change anything in any of your stories, what would it be?

Sometimes I post a chapter and then when I’m writing the next one and I think of something and I’m like ‘damn that would have been so much better’ but I can’t really pick out something specific.

What is your favorite story you’ve ever written? Any fandom?

Before I entered the bughead fandom I didn’t even read fanfiction of any sort, let alone write it so there are no fics from other fandoms. I’ve already said Lovesick a few times (Really? Hadn’t noticed.) so I’ll pick another one. I am really loving writing He Was Gone to be honest, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else do the Now/Then thing that I’m doing and I’m just enjoying exploring that.

27. What are you reading right now? Both fan fiction and general fiction?

Not really reading any general fiction at the moment sadly, I need to start reading again for sure. But in terms of fanfiction, I literally am LOVING Serpent and the Swan @jugandbettsdetectiveagency, meet the morning, which has just finished but it’s one of my favourites @sylwrites, OF COURSE The Stacks by @malmo722, a long time favourite (shout out to its brilliant author who also thought of this awesome idea, thanks for letting me be a part of it <3), there’s definitely loads more and literally tons on my need to read list.

28. Do you have an advice for writers that want to get into this fandom but might be scared?

I’ve seen a lot of people talk about comment culture and reaching out to others so I’ll try and write something a little different.

When you put your work out there for the first time, it is super scary and it can make you feel super vulnerable, I can remember the exact feeling because it feels like barely anytime has passed since I posted my first fic. Try not to expect immediate success, unfortunately it doesn’t happen for everyone. I know it can be intimidating to see a much smaller number of notes on your post than the most well-known writers get, but try and not let it affect you. Instead, try and appreciate every note that you get. Every like, kudos, comment or reblog, no matter how few or how many, means that someone read what you wrote and appreciated it, isn’t that awesome?! I think it’s epic.Also, if there isn’t an immediate or huge response to your fic, don’t let it discourage you. Don’t stop writing, keep going, write more.

And finally, don’t write for other people, write for yourself.

[intoxicatedeuphoria]

BURN THE HOUSE DOWN (Part 2 of 3)

ROYAI WEEK 2017

PROMPT: Day #7 (6/11) - Incendiary RATING:Teens (swearing, innuendoes) WORD COUNT: 2977 (Part II only)

Rebecca will do anything for her best friend, Riza. Tonight, she’ll do whatever it takes to give her a shot at happiness, no matter how brief it may be. If only that damn bastard Mustang would take a hint…

PART I  |  PART II  |  PART III (coming soon)

This story happens immediately after the events of Roy Mustang Observation Diary, where Falman was still a sergeant (instead of a warrant officer), and Fuery was a private, up until the end where Roy promoted him to sergeant, at least according to the English translation floating around the net.

I’ve split the fic into three parts now because I ended up adding almost 3000 words by the time I finished reading two-thirds of the original Part II. I can’t help it. I love Rebecca and Team Mustang, especially Fuery!!

HAPPY ROYAI DAY, EVERYONE~!!

PART II: CHAIN REACTION

Friday, 23:08 hours Dining Room (Turned into a Club), The Verve, East City

After all the preparations had been done, everyone finally settled around the rectangular table in their VIP booth. Rebecca unfurled the curtain divider by the entrance to give their group some privacy.

Riza took note of the seating arrangement. Across her was her best friend sitting on a plush ottoman, her back to the curtain. To Rebecca’s right were Breda and Falman, both sitting on one of the three loveseats in their booth. To her left were Fuery and Havoc, the former trying to rest his head on the taller man’s arm and failing miserably. Finally, Riza shared the last loveseat with the colonel.

The booth was rather small for seven people, and the loveseats smaller still. Riza’s right leg brushed against Roy’s left every time she moved. The contact made her hyperaware of their proximity which was already challenging the limits of propriety – at least for a commanding officer and his subordinate.

The game hadn’t even started yet…

…and knowing Rebecca, nothing less than inappropriate would happen for the rest of their night if she had a say in it.

“Young and wild and free, remember?” The blonde woman muttered to herself. She released a sigh, which did not go unnoticed.

“Is there something wrong, lieutenant?” Roy whispered in her ear, startling her.

She wordlessly shook her head, then shifted her gaze to Rebecca who let out an exaggerated cough.

“Are you done whispering sweet nothings to each other?” She raised an eyebrow at the two highest-ranked officers in the booth.

“We weren’t-“

“It’s not like-“

The dark-haired woman did not let them finish. Instead she clapped her hands as she began speaking.

“With that out of the way, shall we set the rules?" she winked at the rest of them.

Fuery nodded overenthusiastically that his eyeglasses were knocked off his face. “Oops!”

“One man down,” Breda muttered sardonically. “I repeat, we have one man down.”

Falman snickered beside him.

Mustang rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “How do you propose we play this juvenile game, 2nd Lt. Catalina?”

“Hmmm… since we’re all adults here, I propose that we up the ante right from the start!” she answered jovially. “How about instead of the typical truth or dare, we make it shot and truth or shot and dare? After all, the good colonel here already prepared a bottle of some nice vodka.”

Riza massaged her temple after hearing Rebecca’s idea. Things were definitely going to get messy.

“One more thing,” the colonel interjected. “No passing and no changing of choice, alright?”

With his right hand raised, Havoc inquired, “Any objections?”

There were none.

Breda placed the empty champagne bottle at the center of the table, then asked. “Everybody ready?”

Grunts and nods of assent were given, and the bottle finally spun to life.

“…and for the first blood we have…” Havoc commented, serving as the host for the game.

Everyone watched as the bottle slowed down to a stop and its neck pointed to…

“Falman!” the chain smoker called out loudly, using the unopened bottle of vodka as a makeshift microphone.

The man scratched his head in anticipation.

“Soooo… Sgt. Falman, shot with the truth or a dare?” Havoc asked seriously, getting into his role a little too earnestly.

The gray-haired man gulped before choosing the former.

“Does anyone have a question for our good man Falman?” Havoc looked around the table.

While waiting for a response, Roy pried the bottle of vodka from the blonde second lieutenant’s hand to pour a shot for the first ‘victim’ of the night.

Riza almost wanted to stop their commanding officer, but then she realized that the guys plus Rebecca were only trying to have some fun. Their work could be so stressful, and sometimes only alcohol could make them forget for a while.

She was well aware of this. After all, she and Rebecca used to drown their sorrows and stresses in cheap tequila during their academy days. Her best friend introduced her to the wonders – and the subsequent horrors – of hard liquor, and Riza was never the same afterwards. Rebecca once told her drunkenly that it’s what best friends were for. At least Riza knew she’s not going down as easily as Fuery already did. She’d had training with Rebecca, and she learned a few other tricks during the war so she’s pretty confident she could outdrink Falman and Havoc at best.

For some reason, Breda was not drinking as much as he usually did, only sticking to beer since they started drinking. Maybe he knew what a nightmare the hangover would be tomorrow. Wine, beer, and hard liquor made the nastiest mix – the one which always resulted to a monster headache that refused to go away for an entire day.

“Wait, I do!” Breda hollered with a diabolical grin after an awkward moment of silence.

Speaking of the devil… Riza thought wryly.

“Sgt. Falman!” The hefty lieutenant turned to him. “Who do you think is hotter, 1st. Lt. Hawkeye or 2nd Lt. Catalina, and why?”

Falman swallowed hard and then froze in place.

“You’re forgetting something!” Fuery pointed to the vodka-filled shot glass. “Shot first~!!”

The light-haired sergeant downed the liquor, then blurted out, “I think both of them are equally attractive. I mean, 1st Lt. Hawkeye has the cool, calm appeal, while 2nd Lt. Catalina has the messy, vivacious charm.” He took a breath, as if bracing himself for the worst, and then continued, “and I’m pretty sure all the men here would agree that the ladies are very, very, very sexy with their impossibly long legs and all those curves…”

Falman ceased talking when he saw Riza’s eyes narrowing. Meanwhile, Rebecca relished the compliments without hesitation, winking at the terrified man.

“Enough with the flattery, sergeant.” Riza demanded briskly.

“Aww, Riza. He was just being honest!” Rebecca whined. She turned to the blushing sergeant. “Thank you for noticing out feminine assets, and for appreciating them! It’s nice to know that someone still sees us as women even if we work for the military.”

“Thank you, Sgt. Falman.” The blonde woman’s stony visage melted into a small smile.

Roy cleared his throat and said, “Let’s move on to the next one.”

Falman spun the bottle and it pointed to Fuery. The dark-haired young man grabbed the vodka bottle, poured himself a shot, then swallowed it in a blink. Everyone was stunned into silence, until Havoc resumed his commentator-slash-host duties.

“Up next we have the newly promoted, and currently inebriated Sgt. Fuery!”

It was Falman’s turn to ask. “Truth or dare, sergeant?”

“A real man always goes for a dare!” Fuery declared proudly.

“A dare it is.” Falman placed a finger under his chin and remained silent for a minute. He suddenly slammed a hand on the table. “I dare you to ask for a girl’s number in five minutes!”

“SAY WHAT?!?!” Fuery seemed to sober up a little from the dare.

“We agreed on the rules, Fuery.” Breda said matter-of-factly, wiggling his index finger as he did so. “You can’t pass or change your choice. Be a man and ask a girl – any girl – for her number.”

Fuery left their booth to complete his mission. Havoc slid the curtains to one side so everyone had a view of his progress.

Riza felt Roy shift in his seat. She looked at him and was surprised to see that his gaze was already on her.

“Are you alright, sir?” she inquired quietly, holding his stare.

“Yes, of course,” he assured her. “I’m just starting to feel the effects of the whiskey.” He tilted the empty glass in his hand. “It’s my fifth one already.”

“Then I suggest you stop drinking, colonel,” she stated firmly. Roy simply nodded. She raised an eyebrow at him, but he only grinned adorably.

He leaned towards her, then whispered, “A few more drinks won’t kill me, lieutenant.” He moved closer still, until he was practically breathing against her ear, “but your dress tonight sure did.”

Riza rolled her eyes as she gently pushed him away. “Sir, I believe you’re being too close for comfort… closer that what is proper, in fact.”

He looked at her sadly, but said nothing in response.

All of a sudden, boisterous cheering filled the booth as Fuery returned from his task, dispelling the heavy mood that settled between Roy and her.

Riza exhaled in relief. The tension between them was quickly becoming unbearable. His gentle teasing and subtle flirtation were not helping at all. She wished he wouldn’t be so obvious with his feelings since they were currently in public.

But then again, she was at fault, too. She let her guard down because she was enjoying herself immensely. How many times did she dream of going out with him like this? Did he have any idea know how much she envied all the girls he dated since they came back from the war?

She shook her head slightly to clear her mind.

There was no point in dwelling on regrets and everything else that she could not change.

It was time to move on.

She joined in the clapping when Fuery – with a kiss mark on his left cheek – showed off the paper napkin with some girl’s number on it. Then he promptly passed out next to Havoc.

Riza could not help but chuckle at their youngest member’s antics.

It was going to be a long night so she might as well enjoy it.

After all, she was young and wild and free and only twenty-three.

At least for tonight.

Friday, 23:23 hours Dining Room (Turned into a Club), The Verve, East City

Rebecca stole a glance to her left where Fuery was passed out, his head lolling against the back of the loveseat.

Her lips formed a smirk. She hadn’t felt this giddy while playing Spin the Bottle since she was thirteen.

A chance finally appeared!

Fuery’s out of the game so anyone can ask a question or suggest a dare for the next round.

Now, if she could only find a way to make sure the bottle stops at either Riza or Mustang…

“I’ll spin for Fuery!” She announced eagerly, her hand already poised on the bottle. “Ready or not~!”

Please let it stop at Riza or the Flame Bastard. Rebecca called upon the favors of all the deity she had ever known, even if she herself was a non-believer. Please, oh god, anyone, the stars, the universe…

Somewhere, somebody heard her plea and granted her wish.

“Would you look at that?!” Havoc cried out in false bewilderment. “The next victim is the Hawk’s Eye herself: our dearest 1st Lt. Hawkeye~!!”

“I’ll ask her!” Rebecca volunteered before anyone else could interfere with her plan. “Drink up first, Riza!”

Everyone watched as the lady of the minute gracefully knocked back the vodka shot.

Trust Riza to make everything look so classy and oh so sexy. Rebecca smiled smugly. Mustang’s practically drooling like a dog from the view.  

“Truth or dare, lieutenant?” The colonel asked her promptly.

The rest of the team waited with baited breath for her answer.

Meanwhile, Rebecca was getting impatient. The suspense was killing her.

“I choose…” Riza trailed off as she surveyed their expressions.

Fuery’s loud snoring broke the silence, and then Riza finally said, “Truth.”

Sounds of disappointment filled the booth.

“So Riza…” Rebecca clapped her hands once, signifying the start of her interrogation. “Would you please tell us how many people you’ve kissed so far, and who was the best one?”

The first lieutenant’s eyes widened so much upon hearing the question, then quickly narrowed into slits and focused solely on her best friend.

“This is a complete betrayal, Rebecca.” She stated coldly. “You’ll pay for this.”

“Please answer the question, sir!” Falman insisted weakly. “Rules are rules…”

“Fine.” Riza acquiesced, the annoyance remaining in her voice. “I’ve kissed two people in my life.”

“Really?! But you’re so pretty!” Fuery interjected out of nowhere. Falman almost fell from his seat from the shock.

The blonde woman smiled kindly at the drunk sergeant. “Thank you for the compliment, Sgt. Fuery, but I’m sorry to burst your bubble. I don’t go around kissing people at random, pretty or not.”

The youngest soldier’s eyes widened, then he blushed furiously. “I’m so, so, soooo sorry, first lieutenant. I’m shutting up now.”

“Good idea.” Breda gave him a thumbs-up. The bespectacled man returned it with a droopy-eyed smile, then slumped against the sofa once more.

“And for your best kiss…?” Mustang inquired cautiously.

“Ooooh, careful there, colonel.” Havoc warned playfully, wagging his finger at him. “Your interest may be misconstrued as sexual harassment~!” He finished in a sing-song voice.

Riza brushed off the comment. “It’s fine, sir.” She then turned to her best friend. “For your information, 2nd Lt. Catalina, my best kiss was you, when we were in the academy.”

The men froze in their seats, their eyes wide as saucers.

“I mean, it was the best one because I don’t remember much, so I’m simply assuming that it’s better than the one I had with the other person.”

Rebecca burst into hysterical giggling. “Ohmigod, Riza! Did you really have to do that?! Look at them – poor men. You just gave them a heart attack and some good stuff for their fantasies.” She said in between peals of laughter.

The female second lieutenant might have been half crazy from all the laughing, but she definitely did not miss the look of mixed surprise and disappointment in Mustang’s eyes.

So Mustang’s the other person Riza had kissed before. Rebecca noted silently. Gotcha!

“But I’m being serious here.” Riza deadpanned. “Oh, and by the way, Rebecca has the softest lips, in case you’re wondering.”

An awkward silence pervaded the tiny booth.

Then it was Riza’s turn to burst into uninhibited laughter, slapping Mustang’s left thigh with her right hand every few seconds while covering her mouth with her other hand. The others simply stared at her. It was the first time they ever saw her lose all control over her emotions.

“I’m so sorry,” she gasped as she recovered her breath. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Without any warning, Mustang gently cupped her face.

The room stilled once again – including Riza this time – as the colonel slowly moved his thumbs across her cheeks to carefully wipe off the tears streaming down her face.

“That’s enough, lieutenant,” he told her gently, as if she were a child. “You’re ruining your immaculate make up.”

“Pardon me, sir. I–“ She began to justify her actions, but her commanding officer beat her to it.

“It’s OK, lieutenant.” He murmured, beaming at her adoringly. “I’m glad you’re having a good time, but there’s no need to ruin your pretty face while doing so.”

“Ahem,” Rebecca interrupted their tender moment with a fake cough. “Can we move on now, please?”

Mustang immediately dropped his hands to his lap, while Riza turned in her seat so she was facing her best friend once more. Both were acting as if nothing had happened a minute earlier.

Oh wow, Mustang has lost it. Maybe the alcohol has gone into his head. Rebecca thought. And I believe Riza’s rather tipsy, too! Perfect~!!

The rest of them pretended they saw nothing as well.

Riza reached for the bottle and spun it.

“The next round is for…” Havoc paused, waiting for the bottle to stop.

“You!” Breda announced with a finger pointed towards his best friend.

The blonde man grinned widely. “It’s about damn time I got some action!”

He grabbed the shot glass that Falman refilled, then declared boldly, “Dare.”

It was Riza’s turn, and – if Rebecca knew her friend well – this meant it’s payback time.

The smirk on Riza’s lips looked eerily similar to that of her commanding officer when he was up to no good.

It was plain evil.

“2nd Lt. Havoc, I dare you to ask Rebecca for a kiss.” The blonde sniper said simply.

It wasn’t as shocking as the dark-haired woman thought it would be.

“Wait a minute!” Mustang demanded harshly. “Isn’t that against the law? You do know that fraternization is illegal, right?”

Out of the blue, Rebecca let out a shrill scream.

“That’s not true!” Fuery asserted passionately with his index finger still poised in a poking stance near Rebecca’s waist. “It’s not fraternization, colonel! It’s just a game, right?!”

He poked her once again. The dark-haired woman shoved him back to his seat.

Mustang cleared his throat to garner their attention.

“Let’s all agree that everything that we’ve seen and heard tonight will never go out of this group. Ever.” Mustang looked at each of them in the eyes as he spoke. “Do I have your word for it?”

Everyone else in the room raised his or her right hand in salute, then replied solemnly, “Yes, sir!”

The colonel smirked, then declared smugly, “What are you waiting for, Havoc? Go get her.”

Before anyone knew what was happening, Havoc was already kneeling next to Rebecca and was reaching out for her hand.

“May I kiss you, my beautiful lady?” He requested suavely, his voice dropping an octave or two.

Fuery was squealing like a schoolgirl next to them, effectively ruining the moment.

Rebecca was blushing heavily now, and her head was reeling from embarrassment, but the alcohol she had consumed seemed to have flushed out every drop of inhibition in her system a long time ago.

Her instincts were telling her to kiss him.

So she did.

And it felt amazing.

Havoc pulled away before the kiss deepened, but it was still so satisfying.

Rebecca remained in a daze minutes later, temporarily forgetting her mission for the night.

I swear, the next part will be the last one. I’ll upload it once I’m done obsessing over the details of the conclusion.

[movingcarsaustralia]

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Great prices, Moving cars were cheaper and easy to deal with. Nothing was any trouble for the staff Miriam BridgesNovember 5, 2014 Read the full article

[cutiesaeran]

The Star in the SKY- Chapter 7

A Yoosung x Saeran College AU (You can read this on AO3 here)

CH 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 |Ch 5 | Ch 6

Once again I find myself standing outside of Seven’s apartment staring down his door. Rolling my eyes, I take that final step forward, activating its security protocols. Today I’m running on ultimate sass levels - I woke up in a fairly bad mood - so I’m actually looking forward to giving the door a piece of my mind. The little black box blinks its red light at me before the robotic voice speaks.

“Please answer the following question in Arabic: who is the greatest friend of them all, the defender of justice for both big and small?

Oh my lord. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s your question? God, how full of yourself can you get?” I knock loudly and impatiently, increasing the volume as the door tries to inform me about me having one more chance before countermeasures, blah blah. I don’t care. “Shut up, you stupid box,” I growl, thumping my forehead against the wood in frustration, “and let me inside before I show you what countermeasures I will take.”

Then, as if by magic, the door opens. Raising my head, I blink in surprise when I see Saeran standing on the other side, a look of confusion on his face. “Threatening to take out the security system now?” he deadpans and I can’t help but smile weakly, huffing out a single laugh. Neither of us move for a second, his eyes scanning over me before flickering over to the box. “He does pick stupid questions, doesn’t he?” With that, he steps back, allowing me inside.

The apartment is oddly silent, generally not a good sign. It either means that A) Seven is about to pull some sort of prank on me or B) he’s not here at all. I’m not really in the mood for a prank but I’ll take it right now if it means he’s around since I came over to do the interview for my paper. Running a hand through my hair, I toss my bag on the couch and turn to face Saeran as he’s closing the door. I can feel the scowl on my face and I know it’s not fair to direct it at him because it’s not his fault, but I also can’t seem to get rid of it.

Green eyes meet mine and he instantly holds up his hands, palms facing me with a slightly alarmed look on his face. “He was called into work late last night and hasn’t be home since,” he says cautiously, averting his gaze when my scowl deepens. “I-he was supposed to tell you.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t,” I grumble, dropping onto the couch sullenly. Crossing my arms, I glare at the coffee table in front of me, cursing Seven in my mind. Why? Why would he not tell me? Seriously, this is so dumb. I need them both to answer my questions in order for it to work. Granted, I still have plenty of time before I need to really worry about it but that’s not the point; he should have told me. A small chunk of my hair falls forward and I puff some air at it, trying to get it out of my face so I can be angry in peace.

A small chuckle catches my attention and I glance up to see Saeran looking at me with a hand covering his mouth. Did he just laugh at me? “What’s so funny?” Stay mad, stay mad, stay mad, I chant to myself, not quite willing to give up on my little temper tantrum yet. Yet for some reason as I look at Saeran I can feel my anger melting away; his red hair is even wilder than usual and the sides of his eyes are crinkled, most likely meaning he’s hiding a smile under that hand of his. The lack of black surrounding his eyes makes me realize that I either woke him up or was very close to doing so, because he hasn’t even gotten ready for today. Which means - yep, he’s still in sleep pants and a plain black t-shirt. Oops.

Shaking his head, Saeran drops his hand slowly to reveal the lopsided grin gracing his face as he looks at me. “Nothing,” he says at first, causing me to narrow my eyes at him in frustration. All that accomplishes is making his smile grow wider still. “It’s just that… when you’re mad, you’re…” he trails off, a light pink tinge appearing on his cheeks. Fingers are playing with the bottom of his shirt, rubbing it between middle and thumb and he looks to the side, a shy look passing over his face.

I think I know where this is going, but I can’t let the sentence hang in the air like that. “I’m?” I prompt, gesturing for him to continue. Please don’t say cute. Anything but cute.

“Cute.” Damn. It. Groaning, I lean forward and bury my face in my hands. It is both my blessing and my curse to be ‘cute,’ something I can never escape even when it’s the last thing I want to be. My whole life people have said I’m cute when I’m mad, which usually makes me more mad and then they say it’s still cute… and the cycle goes on. Just for once I’d like to be able to express some sort of emotion without it being cute; is that too much to ask for?

Silence hangs in the air between us for a while before I hear the scuffling of feet against the floor. Peeking out between my fingers, I see Saeran reach up and scratch his forehead, weight shifting awkwardly from one leg to the other. He clears his throat and then says softly, “I’m sorry if that was… wrong to say.”

Guilt slams into me like a 50 pound hammer and I sigh, dropping my hands and sitting up. None of this is fair on Saeran; not me interrupting his morning, not Seven dropping the ball on telling me not to come over and certainly not me subjecting him to a foul mood that is not his fault. “No, no, you’re fine,” I assure him, rubbing my temples wearily. “I hear that a lot, I just don’t generally like being told it when I’m, you know, mad.” I smile at him, hoping it comes across more cheerful than I feel.

“Ah.” He’s looking down the hallway with a faraway look on his face, almost like he doesn’t remember I’m here. Well. I should probably go home so I don’t take up any more of his time. I need to work off this frustration, anyway; I foresee a couple of rounds of LOLOL in my future. Nothing better than killing monsters or even helping bus newbies around to make myself feel better. Pulling my bag into my lap, I stand up, taking a step in his direction.

Eyebrows dipping when he looks back at me, his eyes flicking from my face to my bag and then back again. “Oh… are you going?” Something in his tone gives me pause; is that disappointment?

Sliding the bag on my shoulder, I give a quick nod. “I don’t want to take up more of your time when I’m not even supposed to be here,” I explain, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “Plus, I’m not in a good mood today and all I’ve done since I got here is take it out on you.” The guilt increases when I say that and I kick my foot at the ground, dropping my eyes to the side. All I’ve been wanting since Saeran showed up again was to become his friend and now that it seems we’re finally headed down that path, I have to go and ruin it by being a jerk.

“You don’t have to go… if you don’t want to.” Furrowing my brows, I look back up to see him watching me with what appears to be hope etched in his features. That… doesn’t make sense. “Um. If you want to play games, we have some games here? Or if there’s something else you’d like to do…” He visibly gulps and that’s when it hits me just how nervous he is right now. He’s nervous, and he’s more or less asking me to stay. To hang out, like friends.

Okay. I can do that.

I smile brightly at him, feeling some of my ill mood evaporate. “If you want me to, yeah!” My bag falls to the floor and I bounce on my toes, excitement starting to build. I’ve never hung out with Saeran before and I’m super curious to see what’s he’s like underneath that prickly surface.

We end up agreeing to play Mario Kart again, partially because it’s one of the only multi-player games they own and partially because he mentions he really enjoys it. While our characters are zooming through the tracks, he opens up a bit about how he used to play one of the older versions of this game with Seven when one of them had a rough day. It just became a way to destress, to relax and have fun. That transferred over to adulthood once he came back from rehab - a place I noticed he mentioned with a rather neutral tone - and he plays it whenever he feels stressed. No wonder he’s so good.

Unlike the day when all three of us played, Saeran’s a lot more animated as we start to get competitive. He still doesn’t move around as much as I do, but he does lean forward and allow his body to slightly tilt whenever he turns the wheel. He’s also more vocal, grumbling or softly cheering when certain events happen. I glance over to see a look of concentration on his face, his red hair floating over the tops of his squinting eyes, nose wrinkled and tongue sticking just the tiniest bit out between his lips. Some odd feeling rises in my chest, but I just push it away; I don’t want to do any sort of introspection today to figure out what it is. I realize I’m staring when my character beeps for going too far off the track and my eyes snap back to the tv, immediately switching back into gamer mode, zooming around to try to catch up.

We play a few rounds and each time he gets progressively more relaxed around me. Never to the point that it feels like he’s fully open or comfortable, but enough that it no longer feels stiff and awkward. We chat a bit, with me mostly dominating the conversation but him inserting tidbits and answering or asking questions as necessary. I’m very cautious about keeping the topics present-oriented, mostly about school or what we do in our spare time, not wanting to end up asking the wrong thing and causing him to clam up. If he’s anything like Seven, the past is a touchy subject and the little I know of his past would lead me to believe it’s definitely more sensitive.

“So how did you get into drawing?” We just finished talking about what we liked and disliked about our classes, and it didn’t take long for me to notice that anytime he speaks about art his eyes light up. Actually, it’s not just his eyes… it’s his everything. Like somebody plucked a star from the sky and gently placed it in his heart so that when he’s doing something he loves he shines.

A voice in the back of my mind whispers that I want him to look at me like that one day. I shush it and shove it off a cliff.

Narrowing his eyes at the screen, he barely avoids a green shell before answering. “I’ve always liked it, but…I dropped it when I joined a gang. I didn’t get into it again until I went to rehab.” He hesitates, like there’s more he wants to say, so I remain quiet, just trying to get Yoshi to stay on the stupid rainbow road while occasionally glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. It remains quiet until we complete the track - with me not even placing in the top four, stupid level - at which point he sighs and puts down his controller, turning to face me directly. Fingers tapping on his thighs again, he slowly meets my gaze, that shy little smile back in place. “I find it really relaxing to draw whatever’s on my mind. It can be hard work, and yeah, school sometimes makes me stress out over it but generally it’s my go-to to calm down.” I nod; this makes sense. It would be like how I play LOLOL to calm down but if it were to somehow be my job or I had to study it, occasionally it wouldn’t be fun because it would be work.

His eyes drop to the side again. “I… I’m sorry I freaked out when you looked through my sketchbook. I just… wasn’t expecting it.”

“N-no!” Shaking my head rapidly, I drop my controller onto my lap to wave my hands. “I shouldn’t’ve looked without asking! It was rude, I’m sorry.” Scratching my forehead, I look at him sheepishly. “I was just curious, I saw you drew Leia and it kinda… captured my attention. I liked it.”

Saeran’s eyebrows knit together and he gives me a strange look, as though I’m suddenly a mystery to him. “You… liked that picture,” he repeats slowly, his voice full of confusion.

“I think so?” What’s so weird about me liking the picture? To be honest, even though the drawing in and of itself was amazing, what really drew me was that he didn’t choose to put her in the slave outfit. No, she was wearing her outfit from The Empire Strikes Back, all white with a vest, standing regal and brave. It was a perfect depiction of what her character was really about. “But also, that painting you gave me was stunning. I have it hanging up in my room!” I love stars, I really do; my room has a lazy star theme going. Lazy as in I didn’t put much effort into it, but it’s there if you look. Saeran’s gift fits right in, not to mention it’s a gift and it’s beautiful.

“Oh… thanks.” Silence descends between us for a moment and I fidget with the controller, tracing the outline of the buttons as I try to think of what to say to him. He beats me to it. “If… you liked those, would you want to see what else I’ve done?”

I perk up instantly, scooting to the edge of my seat and grinning at him enthusiastically. “Yeah, of course! I-if you’re comfortable with that, that is,” I quickly tack on when I see surprise flash across his face at my reaction. I really need to remember to try to temper myself around Saeran; he just seems so timid and easily made nervous. Definitely not a combination I expected from him based on what I know from Seven, but… maybe it’s just something that comes from what he’s lived through.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t...dork,” he says softly, standing and beckoning me to follow. Unable to wipe the smile from my face, I trail behind him as he leads us down the hallway.

I knew Seven somehow manages to afford a three-bedroom apartment, but I wasn’t expecting the third to have been more or less completely repurposed into an art studio for Saeran. When he opens the door, my jaw drops; the walls are populated with various paintings, some obviously done in anger while others have a more tranquil vibe to them. There’s an easel in the back corner and two desks back to back in the middle, one covered in scattered sketches and the other more organized. Saeran makes his way to the back, tying back the heavy curtains to let the natural light shine in before turning back to me.

“So uh. This is where I work.” Waving a hand in a gesture meant to encompass the room, he ducks his head and shuffles his feet a little. “There’s finished paintings over there-” he points at a couple of rows of canvases along the wall, “my sketches are in that mess there-” the desk filled with lots of paper, “and there’s other random stuff littered throughout the room.” Shrugging, he gives a small laugh. “I… spend a lot of time in here. Obviously.”

“Yeah…” I breathe out, looking around with wide eyes. Slowly stepping forward, I head over to the canvasses lining the wall first. Dropping to my knees, I reach out a careful hand to go through them. A ship at sea in the middle of a storm, the bow breaking and the deck cracking; a grassy field filled with flowers and wildlife, the sun shining brightly down; empty chairs at empty tables; the snow melting away to glimpse at some of the earth underneath. There’s so many and every one of them is filled with such emotion, to the point that I feel like I can tell what mood he was in when he painted them. Some are in different styles, most likely experimenting to find what was comfortable for him. There’s a few that are obviously drawn for anatomy purposes, but even those are impressive. It’s very evident just how much time he’s put into this and how much he loves doing it.

“Wow, Saeran, I’m… wow.” Speechless, my brain provides helpfully after I give up searching for the word. “These are so beautiful.” Making my way over to the desk, I shuffle through the sketches there. Many of these are people or body parts, possibly for school. There's several pictures of either Seven or Seven and Saeran, both as children and adults, but very few seem happy. One in particular catches my eye: it shows Seven pointing to someone off the paper with what appears to be a lovestruck expression on his face while Saeran stands next to him but a few steps back, not looking where Seven is but instead at his brother with… resignation? Everything about him here suggests he's given up- slumped shoulders, bent over slightly, head drooping, like a wilted flower. It hurts to look at. I wonder what that's about.

There's some pictures of V as well, but those are sketched with what feels like anger behind them. Otherwise it’s people I don’t know or occasionally characters from movies or cartoons; some business man with a cat appears a few times, the same cat I saw in some pictures with Seven. Interesting. Maybe I'll ask sometime.

I wish I could draw like this. “You can.” Startled, I lift my head to see Saeran standing on the other side of the desks, watching me with interest.

“Did… did I say that out loud?” I ask, mildly horrified. He nods and I groan, covering my face. “Why am I like this…”

The sound surprises me at first when I hear it. At first it's a giggle, like the one from earlier but freer, but it quickly changes into a full belly laugh. Dropping my hands slowly, I look up to see Saeran leaning over, one palm on the desk supporting him while the other is clutching his chest. I feel like I should be offended that he's laughing, but strangely enough, I'm not. The look on his face is amused and almost happy, and his laugh is pitched much higher than I'd ever imagined for him. It suits him, strangely enough. I break out into a grin watching him. He looks perfect like this.

Gradually he calms down, shaking his head before glancing back up at me and there it is, the light is shining out of him while he's looking at me. My heart skips a beat.

“Sorry, I couldn't help it,” he apologizes, giving me a lopsided smile that I want to see on his face constantly. Lifting his palm off the table, he cards both of his hands through his hair, eyes flitting around the desk in front of him as though in search of something. “You said that like it's terrible, like all those little things that make you Yoosung are embarrassing. But you're wrong.” His eyes meet mine for a second before he's back to searching the desk. The sound of paper rustling is the only noise in the room until he pulls out what looks like another sketchbook. Setting it down before him, he flashes me a pointed look, eyebrows raised. “Would you like to learn? I can show you the basics.”

It's surprising that I don't knock anything over in my rush to get around the desk, bouncing on my toes with my bottom lip pulled between my teeth in excitement. Saeran chuckles and motions to the chair. “I'll take that as a yes.”

Sitting down quickly, I scoot up and then look at him expectantly, not sure what to do next. He laughs again. “That’s a new sketchbook. Just open it and grab one of those pencils and I’ll give you tips as you go.” Okay. I can do this.

I flip the black cover of the book open, staring down at the off-white page apprehensively. I’ve never been confident enough to try to draw, but it’s been a passive interest just sitting in the back of my mind. I’m curious to see how a picture will turn out with Saeran guiding me. He’s got an array of different pencils in a cup, and after some study, I choose a simple mechanical one, glancing up at him. He nods. I put the pen to the paper and… freeze.

“What do you want to draw?” he prompts, leaning on the desk next to me, staring at where the point of the pencil is touching the paper. “Just pick the first thing that comes to mind.”

The first thing that comes to mind… “Rika,” I say quietly, smiling a little. “I’d like to draw my cousin.”

Saeran stiffens immediately, pulling back and staring at me with furrowed eyebrows, his expression dark. I’m not sure what I did to cause this reaction, but before I can ask he reaches up and violently rubs his hair, shutting his eyes and rolling his neck. When he opens them again, the green is back to the blank look I’m used to seeing there, but… not what I’d seen earlier today. Somehow I managed to take several steps back by just saying I want to draw cousin.

“Okay,” he says simply, motioning toward the paper. “Draw a circle where you want the head to be.” And so it starts with me slowly doing as he says, constantly stopping and erasing. I bite my tongue in concentration as I slowly work up the basic frame of the body, changing things when he tells me to. Eventually that part’s done and if I squint at it, it looks kinda like a decent approximation of a human.

“Good job,” he says, smiling. It’s good to see him smile again but it’s still tight, like he’s still upset about something. “Now you need to work on making it look like a body instead of several different parts.” So I start sketching again, trying to transform the random circles and ovals into something closer to an actual body with Saeran interjecting tips randomly.

“Make the shoulders softer; they don’t come to a point like that.”

“Good job on the abdomen, but don’t forget that she had hips.”

“You’re too stiff, loosen up so you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Yoosung,” Saeran says at one point after I’m starting to work on clothes, “remember, you need to move from your elbow, not your wrist.” I let out a frustrated noise; he’s told me this over and over again but I can’t seem to do it to his satisfaction. Focusing, I try again. “No,” he says, suddenly leaning over and latching onto my wrist. “You’re still moving this too much.” He shakes it gently, eyes looking at me seriously. “Use your elbow to propel your hand where you want it to go.” Still holding on, he tilts his head at the paper to tell me to keep drawing. My mind doesn’t want to cooperate; it’s completely focused on where his fingers are wrapped around my wrist, sending little currents of electricity skittering across my skin. Why, though? Why does it feel this way? “Yoosung,” he gently urges and I exhale forcefully, trying to turn my attention to the paper again. It halfway works, enough that I can start moving the pencil again. He leaves his hand there, keeping my wrist mostly stationary and forcing me to use my elbow as I sketch out a dress.

“Saeran! You’ll never guess who just called me, I…” We both jump and turn to the doorway when Seven enters, his eyes wide and his mouth open. Saeran releases me as though it suddenly burns to touch me, moving a few steps away and averting his eyes completely from his brother. The air feels like it’s thickening again, similar to how it was the day Seven was trying to convince me to kiss him.

“Yoosung,” Seven says flatly, face devoid of any emotion. “You’re here.”

Dropping the pencil, I let out a frustrated sigh and glare at him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Yeah? Someone forgot to tell me that he wasn’t going to be here, so I showed up?” I huff, narrowing my eyes at him. “For me supposedly being your best friend, you sure never think to tell me things. At least your brother was nice enough to offer to hang out with me since I was already here.”

“Yoosung, please, don’t,” Saeran whispers, and I glance back to see him looking at me with pleading eyes. What in the world is happening? These two seem fine with each other most of the time but for some reason whenever I’m around, things get intense real quickly.

“Is that what you think.” Seven’s still got that blank look on his face, and it’s actually starting to creep me out a little. “Would you prefer Saeran be your best friend?”

I do a double-take at his words. “What? That’s not what I said… why are you being like this?”

Shaking his head, Seven moves out of the doorway. “Yoosung, please leave.” His voice is thick, heavy, like he’s holding back a dam of emotion that’s about to burst at any moment. But the look he casts me as he says it hurts. It’s anger and betrayal. Why would he feel that way?

“Fine.” I stand up, all my frustration returning in one fell swoop as I march toward the door. I turn before I exit and look right at Saeran, noticing how he’s still not looking at either of us. “Thank you for showing me how to draw, Saeran. It was fun.” Ducking around Seven I race out into the living room to grab my bag and leave, heart thumping loudly.

What the hell is going on?

[datingadviceonreddit]

DISCLAIMER: I have a hard time writing briefly and there is some pertinent background. Apologies for the length.Hello, thank you for taking the time to read this.I am 27M/NJ and currently in college. I took many years out of my education for various reasons but I'm happy to be on my second year back, in a good university, doing well. This is relevant for later.I have had a couple shitty long-term living together relationships long ago, the last one ending 6 years ago. Due to how those transpired, through faults both mine and my partners', not to mention my on-going legal issues, I decided that I was unfit for relationships. I went through a long phase of depression/drug use, then a long phase of rebuilding, with FWB relationships satisfying my needs periodically. In other words, I've been "out of the game" for a long time.Anyway, I am taking summer courses and I take the college bus. I am also a smoker, and hate to smoke on other people. I normally end up leaning against the black bike rack under the blistering sun. The benches each had a person on them last Monday, so I resigned myself to the rack. Just as I pull out my pack, I notice a girl [21/22 F] on one of the benches pulls out hers. I walk over to her and say "Thank god you smoke." She pulls out her headphones from her ears, "wait, what?" My pick-up lines are solid.In all seriousness, I would have said the same thing to just about anyone sitting there, oblivious to the fact that they only got on at the last station of my mental train of thought. It took me a little while to to realize that this girl was absolutely gorgeous. To my disbelief, she put away her headphones and strikes up a conversation with me. I miraculously manage to keep my spaghetti firmly in my pockets throughout. We exchange names she gets up for class about 30 minutes later, and said "Do you have class tomorrow, hopefully I'll see you?"It felt creepy, not sure how normal this is, but I found her on Facebook soon after. No photos with any gentlemen, no relationship status, no ring on her finger. I didn't add her but I kept that in mind. You better believe I didn't get on the bus the next day when my class let out early. I waited. She arrived. When she was walking up to the bench, the smile she gave me was angelic. It stirred something deep within me. We found out our schedules align for us to meet here Monday-Thursday. Another successful day passes. On the third, the first words out of her mouth are "I look forward to this all day." I struggle to process that maybe she is interested in me as well.I planned to ask her on a date that Thursday, but her bus broke down and she arrived late to her class - we didn't have much time to talk, and she revealed she was going to be away for the entire weekend. Man plans and God laughs. It wasn't until next Tuesday that I had the courage and opportunity to ask her out. She was about to take an exam, so I gave her time to study, but after a couple of minutes she closes her books and says "It's in God's hands now." I suggested we celebrate her finishing the exam by getting a drink after. She agrees. I stay at the computer lab while she takes her exam. I have my headphones on, reading schoolwork, sound-isolated as usual because I don't interact with people much outside of parties and my existing friends. She strokes my neck with a finger to scare me/get my attention, which succeeds in getting me to jump up and scare the bejeezus out of me. We take the bus to town and grab drinks.We started off slow but after the first drink loosened us up, we had an incredible conversation. We were there for about two and a half hours, and at the end she asked me for my number (wat) which prompted me to ask for her Facebook information. "I had a great time, I'm so glad we did this." We took the bus together to my transfer station and she kept going to class.I was ecstatic. I get on my transfer bus shortly after and of course open her Facebook profile. More pictures became available than were public, and in a photo dated about 3 weeks ago, it's her at graduation kissing a guy. I click on his profile, and yep, it says that he is in a relationship with her (doesn't say so on hers). I felt more devastated that I would have expected.After coping with the situation, I had to consider my position. We had talked about everything from family to religion [both agnostic], but she never mentioned a boyfriend. I was definitely interested in her and we seemed to get along great. However, could it be that she is just a super friendly person and I am misreading the things she said as interest? Did she simply not mention the boyfriend to not scare me away? When I invited her to come with me and my friend to a parade/party this weekend, she seemed hesistant and said "Maybe;" is that a sign of some sort? Asking myself these questions I would probably not be able to find the answer to ever, I collected my thoughts.I considered giving up, but I realized I'd given up for 6 years already, and I can't do that anymore. I feel motivated to make myself a better person, start going to the gym again (recently recovered from an injury), for a chance with her. But, I also don't want to be pushy. I don't want to be a "homewrecker" or come off as that "thirsty" guy because really I don't want to just have sex. We connect on a lot of levels, I think; she said we're kindred spirits. So, I am stuck.It was a battle to not be upset when I saw her the next day, because that wave of emotions flooded back in me. I pulled through then, and today. Now I am at a loss as to what to do. One half of me wants to do everything in my power to rise above this, play all my cards, take her out a lot more, and try to get a relationship with her as soon as possible; I honestly haven't felt this way in many years, after many encounters with women who were willing. The other half wants to respect her space/her probably relationship and maintain the friendship at its current level, because we truly do get along well together, and hope that one day I get a shot. The summer semester is short and fleeting.To those of you still with me, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I needed to get this off my chest because my therapist had other plans for our meeting and I would like all of your tips and suggestions. What should I do? via /r/dating_advice