#might as well start the seasons during which I quit watching from the start if I ever get back to them

[damnprecious]

setting up a new computer be like 'what the heck was that password again; yes yes yes it was I who logged into this account, no need to confirm it literally four times; oh look at that, I only have eight tabs open; oh god no what is this new keyboard I keep hitting the wrong key'

[steddielations]

Steve acts on instinct.

There’s this guy in all black walking in front of him, he’s too busy looking down at his phone to notice, but Steve doesn’t trust that lamppost. He’s been going for daily runs, he likes to keep it simple during the off-season, and that post has been getting more rickety every day. Now it’s swaying dangerously in the wind and he knows it’s about to tumble.

There’s no time to call out to the guy, so Steve just plows forward and tackles him out of the way.

They fall in a messy heap and Steve unfortunately lands heavily on top.

“Holy shit! What the— ugh!” The guy heaves in pain and Steve hurries to scramble off of him.

“Sorry, that post was about to fall on you, man. You alright?”

Pieces of grass stick to the guy’s long hair as he takes stock of Steve and what happened. With a labored breath, he surprisingly jokes, “Guess I’m lucky the best football tackler alive happened to be right behind me.”

It’s sarcastic as shit but Steve smiles with a tug of amusement as he offers his hand. “Baseball, actually.”

“You’re in the wrong league, man,” he lets Steve pull him to his feet and groans on the way up. “Well, nice to meet you, Baseball, you pack a hell of a first impression. I’m Eddie.”

Steve would appreciate his ability to joke so soon after taking a hit, but people are starting to gather around. There’s already phones pointed at them that probably caught the whole thing on camera. Steve’s used to public attention by now, knows the press is going to have a field day with this and he hates causing a scene, but he wants to make sure Eddie is okay.

“Just Steve is good. You wanna…? This way,” he gestures toward the sidewalk and thankfully, Eddie seems just as eager to get out of there too, shuffling next to Steve as they round the corner.

He’s wearing so much metal jewelry, it’s like a costume, the jingle jangle of his every step accentuating how shaken up he seems. They get far enough behind a building and Steve stops to have a real look at him and… well he’s interesting to look at.

It’s like he hopped off the album cover of an 80s rock band, or one of Steve’s Bon Jovi posters that he hid under his bed in high school. Way too much leather and way too much hair for the California sun, all disheveled with grass and dirt.

“You sure you’re okay? Here, you got a little…” Steve’s hand hovers until Eddie nods that it’s okay from him to pluck the grass from his hair and lightly brush the dust from his shoulders. Eddie watches him the whole time, his eyes big and dark, an intensity in them that Steve can’t quite read but he can feel. “Didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”

Steve lowers his hands, stepping back a little when he realizes how close they are. Eddie’s eyes follow him, a slight quirk to his lips that makes Steve feel the heat of the sun a little warmer on his face.

“I’m touched by your concern, sweetheart, but my brain has been through worse damage than a little bump.”

Steve frowns at the ladder, but the first bit definitely makes him feel the heat. He’s admittedly a bit out of practice but he can still recognize a come on. One that he definitely invited with all the touching and indulgent looks.

Then Eddie starts profusely thanking him for the whole ordeal, asking to treat him somewhere nearby for lunch. It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to, he’s very interested actually, and thankful that out of all the jewelry Eddie’s sporting, there’s no wedding ring. That’s why he’s reluctant because he’s all sweaty at the moment. Not to mention, he didn’t finish his run yet.

“Surely saving my life was enough cardio,” Eddie jokes lightly and Steve snorts.

“I saved you from a minor concussion, maybe,” and okay he’s gotta accept now.

The place is small and unassuming, burgers and sodas type joint. Steve’s likely to be recognized there, which he doesn’t mind meeting fans in public just preferably not now, it might be jarring for Eddie.

He heads for the booth tucked in the back corner, the most private looking spot that Steve had his eyes on too. They get a round of sodas from the waitress and right away, Eddie starts thanking him again.

“I noticed that lamppost wobbling days ago,” Steve sparks a conversation instead of accepting any more thanks, “I was planning to let it fall on me so I could sue the shit out of the city.”

He’s pleasantly startled by the big cackle that gets out of Eddie, “Any chance to stick it to the man. I admire that.”

“‘Course I would’ve really stuck it to ‘em and donated it back to the community,” Steve adds.

“Giving the people’s money back to the people, imagine Big Brother’s horror. Noble guy.”

Eddie seems to bubble with contagious delight that doesn’t match his whole leather and chains thing at all, but it fits into the somewhat magic of him. It's a wonder to Steve.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Eddie ventures, a glint of recognition in his eyes that Steve’s seen a thousand times. He doesn’t ping Eddie as much of a sports guy and he’s not vain enough to assume everyone knows who he is. Eddie’s probably seen him while flipping the channel past ESPN or something. Or maybe an ad for that Netflix thing he did documenting last year’s season.

“I think I’d definitely remember you.”

Steve didn’t mean it as a come-on, just that Eddie’s appearance really isn’t forgettable, but he can tell by the wicked little grin Eddie sports that it was taken as one. Steve likes that even better.

“Have you ever modeled, or anything? You’ve got the looks for it.”

Biting back a smile of his own, Steve shakes his head. “I bet you say that to everyone who saves your life.”

“None of them were half as good looking." That sounds concerning but Steve’s distracted by Eddie swirling his straw in his drink, regarding him with a long look. “Really though, I just feel like I’ve seen you before.”

Steve’s done a few covers of Sports Illustrated, but he doubts Eddie has ever picked up a copy of that, so he shrugs. “Must’ve been in your dreams.”

Eddie laughs softer this time. “You trying to sweep me off my feet or something?”

“Already did.” Steve leans back, enjoying the way Eddie’s eyes follow him.

Conversation sparks and it never really dies out. Eddie just grabs topics out of thin air, talking about the city and what they like to do and movies and his amazement that Steve knows all about D&D because he’s a nerd magnet. Eddie’s personality spills through everything he says like it can’t be contained. He’s talkative in a good way, not to a point where Steve can’t get a word in. He listens intently, has a way of putting all his attention onto Steve like he’s the most interesting person he’s ever spoken to.

It’s surprisingly easy to relax. Not because Eddie has a super calming presence or anything, his energy is just all-encompassing, it’s hard for Steve not to get sucked in and hang on to every word he says. It’s one of the rare times in public that he’s not hyper-aware of everyone around him and too paranoid of having a photo snapped and taken out of context to even enjoy himself.

That happens a lot, being one of the only professional athletes who’s open about his sexuality. The media is extremely invasive with his private life. If he’s seen with any guy friend, there’s a whole press storm about Steve Harrington’s “secret beau” within the hour. It’s ridiculous and he tries so hard to keep his lovelife under wraps that maybe he’s been neglecting it entirely, at least that’s what Robin says.

Of course, that’s when his phone lights up with a message from her. His heart sinks a little when he sees the title of the article she sent to him. He quickly shoots her a text and locks his phone without reading it.

“Everything alright?” Eddie notices the shift in Steve’s mood right away.

“Yeah just,” he sighs, bracing for the inevitable part when Eddie realizes Steve isn’t worth the hassle of all this, “Someone filmed us earlier and now it’s all over the press. I’m really sorry, I totally get it if—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s fine. I figured that would happen,” Eddie brushes it off, but Steve shakes his head.

“I don’t think you understand, it’s—”

“Wanna bet?” Eddie smirks for some reason, “I’m fine with it, I promise.”

He tosses a chip into his mouth and picks right back up with the story he was telling.

Steve is stunned for a moment, wary that maybe Eddie doesn’t fully grasp how deep this goes. But he stays there with Steve, seemingly thrilled to keep talking with him even when a family comes in and keeps staring their way, obviously building up the courage to come over and ask for a picture. Eddie’s acting like Steve’s the only person in the room and that’s enough to assure Steve that he’s really fine with it.

He’s so locked into Eddie, he barely registers when the older son from the family’s table finally wanders over and asks for a picture.

Steve is in the middle of wiping his face with a napkin, about to greet him when suddenly, Eddie pops up and asks Steve to excuse him for a minute.

“C’mon little man, let’s do it,” he says and much to Steve’s confusion, the teen excitedly goes with Eddie to his family’s table.

Steve watches, utterly baffled, as they start snapping photos and expressing what big fans they are and Eddie takes it with such bravado, laughing and chatting like he’s with a group of friends.

What the— Steve grabs his phone, opening the article Robin sent him at lightning speed.

At first, he wonders how the press was able to find out Eddie’s full name so quickly, then he sees the words "troubled rockstar" and "recovering star" so many times, it becomes abundantly clear.

Oh.

He’s not so worried about the troubled part, everyone has their shit and he doesn’t read into any of it. Those are Eddie’s stories to tell Steve if he chooses, not some tabloid. But the rockstar part connects a lot of dots that have come up in the last couple of hours since meeting Eddie and—

Yeah, just. Oh.

Part 2

[lyinginmeadow]

Breakaway pt I. | hockey!Azriel × reader

Summary: You're not a fan of a kiss cam. And neither is your boyfriend.

Word count: 1,8k

Warnings: swearing, miserable knowledge of hockey (sorry yall), Rhys being a protective asshole over his sister

A/n: Anyone a hockey fan? No, just me? Okay. Another thing is, that I described university as I know it in my country haha. I hope no one will be confused

Also yes, I did take inspiration from tiktok. I just loved that scene <3

>> Pt 2

Leaves started to fall which meant your favorite season was starting. You loved anything and everything that came with autumn. The pumpkin spice, moody weather, sweaters, and books. With autumn knocking on your door, the new semester has begun. You didn't mind studying, you actually enjoyed it to a certain degree, but the stress is what always got to you during exams. You were just starting your second year of university, so you knew what to expect. To many that was all. Just endless studying and partying to get their minds off things. You? Not really. Ever since you could remember, fall meant the hockey season started. Were you a hockey player? No, not at all. Ice skating was your passion, just not hockey. That didn't matter, because your brother was the golden child. Rhysand played because your father used to. You would never say it out loud, mainly because it would inflate his ego even more, but Rhysand was a star player. He was so much better than your father and you knew that if he wanted to, he would make it far. 

 Rhys never acted towards you with any malice other than just a bit of sibling rivalry. He was actually quite protective of you, given the fact you were his little sister. But whatever you did was never good enough for your father. You might study medicine, but Rhys was finishing law. You might figure skate but you were no hockey player. And most of all, you were a woman. And your father despised you for it. You were expected to make it to every game, but no one ever wanted to attend your competitions.  You enjoyed watching the games, especially when Rhys met his best friends and teammates at university. The games became so much more interesting when Azriel entered the ice. Rhys might be the captain and the center, but Azriel was a force to be reckoned with, the fastest player in the rink. You became friends with both Cassian and Azriel quickly since you often visited their house to get away from your parents. Rhysand of course was glad but you knew you were off-limits to his friends. Not only was it obvious in how he glared at both of them whenever they made a comment he didn’t appreciate. But the first time you met, Cass basically undressed you with his eyes. From what you heard he reminded them often to not mess with his sister.

It did not stop you from developing feelings for him the moment you laid eyes on him. For a while, it did seem he viewed you only as his best friend's little sister. Which you had a hard time accepting. Your relationship changed when you sneaked into a party they had thrown in celebration of a victory last year. You were a first-year, and your first semester at university had been hectic, but living close to your brother and away from your parents was a long-awaited blessing. Having a taste of freedom made you bold. Azriel couldn't take his eyes off of you, you had been like a magnet. He hadn't been the only one as you attracted the attention of another freshman. Azriel might not have acted on his attraction towards you before but seeing you with another man changed that. One thing led to another and you were sneaking out together whenever you found time.

It had been a year and your brother still had no clue. And you intended to keep it that way. You loved your boyfriend, you didn't want to worry about his teeth off the ice as well. Cassian on the other hand suspected, thankfully as you introduced him to your friend, Nesta, he became preoccupied and dropped the matter. 

''So who do you think will win? And be honest, they're not here, you can't hurt their fragile egos.'' Nesta disturbed your train of thought. You laughed shaking your head. You loved hanging out with her because of how direct she was, always saying exactly what was on her mind. You met Nesta when your university did a charity ballet on the ice of Nutcracker. You got the role of Clara and she was your ballet counterpart. You did not expect to establish a friendship with her, but she was exactly who you needed in your life. You knew she would call you out on your bullshit anytime and you liked her for it. She also happened to be the first person you told about Azriel. She was not surprised, saying that you weren't being as secretive as you thought you had been.

''You know I am still biased since I really want our team to win. The Cavaliers are good and they play dirty. But Cass will probably try to kill Eris on the ice. Given the history and all.'' You gave her a pointed look. Shifting your gaze to the rink, you tried to find number 38.

''They’ve got no chance against VU.'' Said a guy next to you. You hated when someone butted their way into a conversation. But given the fact, that you would be spending about two hours in close proximity, you had decided for a polite smile. ''I guess so.''

''So how come you've got such good seats? Know someone on the team?'' He chimed in again.

''You could say that. My brother is the captain.'' You answered keeping your eyes on Azriel as he warmed up.

''Rhysand is your brother?''

''Unfortunately.'' You nodded, and his eyes grew in size. ''That's so lucky! I wish I was a hockey player or just knew them. You see, I got these seats because I'll be writing an article about the game.'' You smiled politely again shifting your gaze to the rink when the puck was just about to hit the ice.

As the game progressed, the crowd became electric. All the fans were shouting and your ears began ringing. Velaris Bats were in the lead, but only by one goal and everyone was nervous. To make the game even more enjoyable, there were games for the fans as well. Students competed against one another to win points for their university and win the competition of the tribunes.

The competitions were fun and good entertainment during breaks. But while the game continued the camera was turned on. You laughed at a random do a meme moment, but quickly turned your head back to the ice. You didn't want to miss a second of Azriel's game. Fully focused, you didn't realize that the camera switched to a kiss cam. A guy sitting next to you turned his head to face you and pointed to the TV earning your attention. ''I mean when in Rome, right?'' He laughed as he tried to close the distance. ''Yeah, no, thank you.'' You laughed nervously shifting in your seat.

''Oh come on, it's just a kiss.'' He pressured, and you gave a panicked look towards the ice. You heard Nesta taking a sharp inhale to give the guy a piece of her mind. You were interrupted by shouts of the fans and loud banging on the glass. 

''Back the fuck off.'' You couldn't hear Az properly, but the message was quite clear, making the guy shift his gaze between the two of you uncomfortably. Az got two minutes for stalling the game which made the crowd boo and your brother yell obscenities as he often did when one of his teammates was sent to a bench. Thankfully during the power play the Cavaliers didn't get a goal in, but it was close. It only enraged Rhysand more which was abundantly clear when he almost broke his stick as the second period came to an end.

Azriel was sending daggers to the guy sitting next to you who looked like he wanted nothing more than to leave. He relaxed when the players left for their locker rooms. You just hoped Rhys didn't look much into Azriel's possessive behavior.

''What the fuck was that?'' Roared Rhys as he entered the locker room.

''I don't know what you're talking about.'' Azriel continued to take off his gear.

''Do not play with me! You could have cost us the game.''

''I was thinking I did you a favor. He had no right to touch her like that.'' He finally faced Rhysand.

''It was a fucking kiss cam.''

''She didn't want to be kissed. And he didn't back off.''

''So what? You made it your mission to help her while you were supposed to pay attention to the puck?'' Spit Rhys. Everyone in the locker room was silent watching the two stubborn players go head to head.

''Yes! And I would do it again.'' Azriel retorted.

''I could have you off the team for this.'' He hissed.

''Rhys-.'' Cassian signed. ''Be my guest.'' Azriel interrupted starring Rhysand down. He wouldn't back down. He couldn't. He knew you could have handled yourself back there. Hell, Nesta was there, too and she wouldn't let some guy do anything disrespectful. He just acted on an impulse. When he looked up and saw your panicked gaze, something shifted inside him. Rhys kept watching Azriel, staring right into his soul when suddenly his eyes grew larger as if recognizing what he should have seen from the very beginning.

''You've got to be kidding me.'' When Azriel didn't answer, Rhys continued, ''Tell me you don’t have a thing for my little sister.’’

''Azriel, I swear to everything that is holly, I will fucking punch you if you don't give me an answer.''

''We are together. Have been for almost a year.'' Azriel never saw anyone have an aneurysm. But if he could guess, Rhysand was a textbook example of how it looked like.

''I take it back, I will punch you anyway.'' And he might have if Cassian wasn't there to catch Rhys. ''Easy there killer. The game is still on. And you might not like it but Az is an asset.''

''I don't want to see you anywhere near her, understand? I know how you are with girls!'' Rhysand snarled.

''You know I can't do that.''

''Then you're off the team.''

''Fine.''

As they returned to the ice, the tension between Velaris Bats was palpable. Cassian was looking between his teammates probably trying to find a quick solution to the problem at hand. Azriel wasn't paying you any attention keeping his gaze on the ice only. You frowned slightly. When you looked at Rhys you found him staring back at you anger oozing out of his every move. 

He knew.

[yanderes-galore]

Fandom: HOTD

Characters: Aemond Targaryen, Aegon Targaryen

Pairing: Rivalry (romantic for both)

Type of fic: Concept

Extra info: Both Aemond and Aegon start to take notice of maid!Darling. I was thinking Darling being / becoming a handmaid of,, Helaena for example, could be a way for both Aegon and Aemond to have a way to constantly see Darling, thus letting their obsession grow even more

-🥝 anon 🤎🤎

Poor girl just trying to do her job only to have two princes after her....

Yandere! Aemond Targaryen vs Aegon II Targaryen with Maid! Darling

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Violence, Mature themes, Harassment/Unwanted affection, Murder, Targcest (Aegon and Helaena due to canon), Forced relationship(s)

Being Helaena's handmaid is usually a quiet job.

The woman often keeps to herself, muttering to herself as she plays with her insects.

You clean, speak to her, and act as a companion to the Targaryen princess.

You're around the same age and are always at her side.

However, this naturally gets you in contact with her siblings.

Both princes are bad in their own ways.

Aegon is bad because he's... touchy.

Aegon is infamous for bedding any woman he has access to.

Maids, brothels, any woman.

Which means you are constantly hit on, courted, and cornered when around Aegon.

Aemond is much better in this regard.

While he is similar to Daemon, his uncle, in many ways...

Aemond does not have the hedonism his uncle and brother have.

No... But he does have the very same bloodlust Daemon does.

Meaning he tends to duel (or straight up murder) those he thinks are too close.

So... both brothers are bad in their own right towards their obsession.

Them in a rivalry? Well, based on what I've seen and written...

Sibling rivalries within the Targaryen dynasty are quite dangerous.

Or any family at all in ASOIAF.

Would the two murder one another? Aemond might.

However, he knows better than just doing it.

He'd want to frame it as an accident or frame it on someone else.

An example of this in canon is during Season 2 of the show with Aegon vs Rhaenys.

He felt he could get away with burning Aegon with Vhagar during the battle.

And if Criston Cole didn't catch him?

He probably would've finished the job.

Now, would Aegon?

He seems to be the one more likely to tease or threaten, but not entirely follow through.

However, both princes are still dangerous and possessive.

It just appears Aemond, ironically the one who isn't trying to bed you every five seconds, happens to be the biggest threat.

I want to add spice to this request and say Helaena would try to support and protect you from her brothers.

Although... Her character isn't very... assertive.

She would probably try to keep you away from her brothers.

Yet Aegon would ignore her, trying to pull you away, saying you'd serve him better as his servant.

While Aemond may compromise, allowing Helaena to stay beside you while Aemond has your company.

Aegon's yandere behavior is both dominant and submissive I feel.

He can be intimidating, yet alone with his obsession and if you play your cards right?

Putty.

Aemond, however, is just dominant...

He's more attentive to your needs but is controlling.

Naturally, though, both princes like the idea of controlling a maid darling.

All while Helaena pities and worries for you... as when the rivalry occurs, you're barely attending to her.

Both brothers are affectionate in their own ways.

Aegon likes to corrupt you, offering pleasure and gifts to make you like him more.

While Aemond tries to be more of a chaste gentleman, still giving you gifts but often offering dances or walks.

Occasionally you're around to watch their sword practices... and the two destroy one another when they notice you're there.

Ser Criston Cole has to pull the maway from one another, both men bleeding and fighting like moody teens.

Alicent grows increasingly concerned that her two eldest sons are fighting over a handmaid.

She's been trying to work on betrothals for them in order to help them stay on track.

Yet both princes keep clinging around you while Helaena begs her mother to help her.

Helaena considers you a friend since youth, she just wants you happy.

She can tell you're overwhelmed by her brothers' infatuation over you.

You may be a simple maid, a woman made to serve...

But the princes don't care.

They want your hand regardless.

This is strange for both of them, especially Aegon who never even considered marriage for a long time.

The only reason Aegon begins to accept Alicent betrothing him to Helaena is because he has better access to you.

Which just makes Aemond more determined to marry you, begging Alicent to betroth you both so Aegon can be kept away.

You begin to wonder if you'd make better money somewhere else... serving some lord far from King's Landing.

Alas... fate isn't merciful to you.

As war eventually comes to be, more attempts at kinslaying come up.

During The Dance... Aegon is crowned king and Aemond is meant to serve him with his dragon Vhagar.

However, the two are still planning on keeping you to themselves.

Aegon may have more opportunities to keep you to himself, much to Helaena's dismay...

But the two brothers still have each other to deal with.

As more battles begin, the two siblings start plotting betrayal.

In fact, if we want to follow canon, Aemond may get Aegon back by burning him.

With Aegon bedridden or dead... and Aemond in power...

You'd belong to Aemond.

Although... maybe you want an alternate timeline, where Aemond is assassinated either by Aegon's order or Daemon's...

Allowing Aegon to keep you as his beloved maid.

Either way... it looks like you'll be stuck with one of them in the end.

Hopefully The Blacks will win against The Greens...

Maybe then you'll be freed from the twisted princes... maybe then you can go back to your old life with both of them dead.

[theywantedplayer]

Master list

PromptList

AN-this is longer than what I usually do I hope yall fuck with it since I haven't been writing lots bc I got exams in 2 weeks fm

You started noticing Nico acting differently—not just on the ice but also when it was just the two of you at home. He always had a nurturing attitude, which his teammates liked to tease him about by calling him "Mother Nico." He was always a caring and intuitive guy, picking up around the apartment even though you knew he had a stressful schedule during the NHL season.

He handled it all well, balancing everything quite skillfully. You’d often hear stories from your friends who were dating other players on the team about how their boyfriends always prioritized hockey, but Nico wasn’t like that.

Then, around the winter months, things started to change. He seemed slower, quieter, and less talkative like a dark cloud constantly hung over him. The Devils weren’t performing as well in the standings as usual, and Nico took it personally as the captain. He acted like the team’s struggles were entirely his fault, carrying the weight of it on his shoulders.

Nico had always been your rock. He let you talk to him about anything that was bothering you, offering a listening ear and unwavering support. But as the winter months set in, you started to realize that the dynamic only seemed to go one way. You could sense something was troubling him, but he never opened up about it.

Little things began to slip. He forgot whose turn it was to make dinner, skipped doing the laundry, or left the dishes undone—things he’d always been on top of. At first, you didn’t mind picking up the extra load, understanding how stressful the season must have been for him. But as October came, you decided it was time to bring it up. You never expected his reaction.

"I’ve noticed you’ve been off, and I’m worried about you," you finally said, folding laundry on the dining room table. Your voice was calm but firm, wanting to make your concern seen.

"What makes you say that?" he replied, his gaze fixed on the TV.

Your eyes flickered between him and the screen. He was watching SportsCenter, listening to reporters make critical and unsupportive remarks about the Devils' performance. It was clear their words had struck a nerve

“Well, you haven’t been picking up around the house lately, and you’ve just been quieter. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” you said as you folded his t-shirts.

Truthfully, you didn’t mind picking up more around the house. You’d always told Nico he didn’t need to do as much as he did, but he always insisted. Still, as you tried to talk to him, it felt like walking on landmines. He was so quiet, and you were afraid he might explode at any moment.

“Seriously?” he said coldly, finally turning his head toward you.

“You know I don’t have a problem with you not doing housework. You just haven’t been yourself lately,” you said, trying to keep your tone gentle. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“If you don’t have a fucking problem with it, then why are you bringing it up?” he snapped, his tone ice-cold.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips. You could feel where this conversation was headed. Setting down the hoodie you’d been folding, you rested your hands on the table and turned to look at him. His expression was unreadable, and that familiar resting bitch face of his—the one that intimidated people who didn’t know him—made you hesitate for just a moment. You knew it wasn’t truly who Nico was, but even now, it unsettled you just a little. Seeing someone who was always the sweetest and more caring one in the room suddenly has the face of one who at first glance didn't seem like it was a shock, but you always knew your boyfriend and knew that wasn't true.

“Nico, I’m not trying to start anything,” you said softly. “I just know something’s wrong, and you won’t even fucking talk to me about it.” you regretted the swear as soon as it left your mouth knowing it seemed like a push to him.

“Because I don’t need to,” he stated flatly.

You sighed again, frustration and worry bubbling inside you. Nico was the guy who always told everyone else they could talk to him, but he never talked to anyone about his stuff even rarely at times with you.

“Well, I think you do,” you said, your voice firmer this time as you locked eyes with him. You weren’t trying to start a fight, but you couldn’t let this slide. “I think talking about it would really help. You’ve been so quick to anger lately, so quiet, and I’m worried about you. You can talk to me. Why do you feel like you can’t?”

You noticed the slight clench of his jaw before he responded. “I have a lot of shit going on. I’m sorry if I’m not picking up around the house anymore. Just leave it alone,” he said, his tone laced with annoyance. “Just leave me alone.”

With that, he turned his body and full attention back to the TV. You opened your mouth to speak again, but he turned up the volume at the same time. Whether it was intentional or not, it sent a clear message: he wasn’t continuing this conversation. And as much as you knew it needed to happen, you didn’t have the energy to force it either.

About a month later, near the end of November, you could tell things had only gotten worse. The Devils were in the middle of a six-game losing streak, and it was eating at Nico. The frustration came to a head after a particularly brutal loss—shut out by Vegas, 5–0.

The walk back to the car was painfully silent. The only words Nico said as he handed you the keys were, “You drive.”

You nodded wordlessly, slipping into the driver’s seat and starting the car. The drive home, which should’ve been 20 minutes, stretched to nearly 45 because of post-game traffic. Normally, after a tough game like this, Nico would vent to you—sharing ideas for new plays or strategies to motivate the team. But tonight, he sat in the passenger seat, staring blankly at the sea of brake lights in front of you.

At every red light, you glanced over at him, silently checking in. He didn’t say a word, but you could see the storm brewing in his mind. This wasn’t just a bad game or a bad week; it was months of mounting pressure. He wasn’t himself anymore, and you knew he was close to breaking.

When you finally pulled into the parking garage of your apartment building, you turned off the car and opened your door. “Come on, Nic, let’s just go to bed,” you said gently, stepping out.

You expected to hear the passenger door open, but instead, there was silence. Turning back, you saw him still sitting there, unmoving. His hand hadn’t even reached for the door handle. It was like he hadn’t even heard you.

You walked around to the passenger side and opened the door, crouching down slightly to meet his eye line. “Nico,” you said softly, your voice laced with concern. “Let’s go inside.”

You could see it—the weight of everything he’d been bottling up for months. The pressure, the expectations, the emotions he refused to show. He was on the verge of breaking, and you just wanted to help him before he shattered completely.

He was too prideful.

But still, you were met with silence. You reached out and softly grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap, giving it a gentle squeeze. You tried to pull him out of the car, but he pulled his hand back, holding yours tightly in both of his. He stared down at your hands, his thumbs brushing softly over your skin. You sat there, unsure of what to say, just trying to comfort him in the smallest way possible. In two years of dating, you’d only ever seen Nico shut down like this once before—after the Devils' playoff run in 2023.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “What the fuck is going on?”

You couldn’t tell if he was talking to you, to himself, or to no one at all. His voice wavered, trying to hide the emotion threatening to break through. It pained you—he’d seen you cry countless times, about everything from stress to happiness, but he still couldn’t bring himself to let you see him like this.

“I know it’s tough,” you said softly, squeezing his hand again.

“It’s more than just fucking tough,” he said, his voice rising with frustration. “We’ve been playing like shit, and there’s nothing I can do. The reporters are tearing us apart, and I have no idea how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix them. I don’t know what the fuck to do!”

His voice cracked, but he kept going, the dam finally breaking.

“In the locker room, on the ice—everyone looks at me like I have all the answers. Like I’m supposed to solve all our fucking problems. But I don’t. What kind of captain can’t even fix his team?”

“It’s not your job to fix your team,” you said plainly, your voice steady.

For the first time since the game, he looked up at you, and your heart broke at the sight. His big brown eyes glistened, tears pooling just at the edge, threatening to spill over.

“I’m the captain, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking. “It is my job. It’s my responsibility to keep the team together, to make sure we don’t fall into shit like this.” His eyebrows knitted together in frustration, and he shook his head, as if rejecting your words outright.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself,” you said gently. “You’ve been doing that for years.”

“Pressure?” he scoffed bitterly. “If it’s not me putting it on, it’s everyone else.”

Your expression softened, and you brought your other hand up to run your fingers through his damp hair. “If you’re the one putting it on yourself, then you can also take it off,” you said quietly. “I’m right here, Nico. I’ve been telling you that since the day we met. If you’re feeling anything—everything—you can talk to me.”

He shook his head again, looking up at you with so much guilt it made your chest ache. “I can’t do that to you. You’ve got enough going on with school and exams. I can’t be one more thing.”

“That’s bullshit,” you said, sighing. “I love you. Nothing is more important to me than you. Keeping all this bottled up is only making it worse, Nico. You need to let it out. Talk to me.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but his eyes softened as you wiped away a single tear that slipped down his cheek.

“But I’m the captain. People are supposed to look up to me and lean on me. It’s my job to take care of everyone else,” he said weakly.

“Yeah, and it’s my job to take care of you,” you said firmly. “I knew what I was signing up for when we got together. Dating a pro athlete comes with challenges that most people don’t face, and I knew it’d be hard sometimes. But Nico, you make it so easy to love you. The only thing that makes this hard is that you don’t talk to me when you’re struggling. I want to be your rock, too. I want you to come to me, vent for hours if you need to, cry if you need to. I just want to help you.”

A shaky sigh escaped his lips, and his voice cracked as he said, “I feel like I have to hold it together all the time. Half the time, I’m not. If we’re losing, I feel like it’s my fault. If I can’t lead us to a win, what kind of captain does that make me?”

“You’re playing fucking hockey, Nico,” you said bluntly. “You’ve been doing this your whole life. You know what you’re doing, and you know what your team needs. But it’s not your job to fix everything. They’re grown men with their own shit going on. The best thing you can do is be there for them, support them. But you can’t carry the whole team on your back.”

A bitter laugh left his lips. “Everyone thinks we’re a shit team right now. We’re getting blown out almost every game.”

You smiled softly, glad to see the tension beginning to leave his shoulders as he let everything out. “Don’t you think Quinn felt like that, too?” you asked.

His brows furrowed in surprise at the mention of his friend's brother.

“He’s captain of the Canucks. They were a mess for years but look at them now. They’ve turned it around. People respect them because they fought through it. You will, too. You’re not the only one who’s ever felt like this. Why don't you try and talk to him about this, Quinn's a really helpful guy he's helping me so much, growing up he was the first person I'd go to"

Nico knew your history with the Hughes you guys grew up together and spent nights at the lake house together, even though Nico didn't know Quinn as well as he knew his energetic little brother, Jack,  he could tell from the few times that they've met that he was a great guy to go to for advice.  He honestly really liked Quinn,  one time during the summer during the off-season the Hughes family invited you and Nico to spend a couple weeks at the lake house with the original group. Being Cole, Trevor the Hughes brothers, and some other buddies from Michigan, Nico was a little nervous about going since he only really knew Jack, Luke and You but Quinn and Nico honestly gravitated towards each other and got along quite well, he introduced Nico to the rest of the group and everyone hit it off from there on.

and during one of those nights at the lake house he and the eldest brother were sitting out by the fire when everyone was inside they ended up having generally deep talk and confided in each other about being captains of a team at a very young age. At the time Nico barely knew Quinn this was really the first time he was actually able to sit down and fully get to know the young defenseman but still he talked to him knowing they shared the same worries and since then they've always kept in contact.

Everyone always loved it when New Jersey played Vancouver because they called it the "Hughe's Bowl" since the three brothers were playing on the same ice against each other for the first time in a long time. Nico always looked forward to that since usually after those games if Vancouver wasn't heading back that night Nico and the three brothers would go out and always get a beer together. 

 Nico could slightly feel his face heat up with embarrassment. not about opening up but about not doing it sooner.  he loved you and he knew you always wanted the best for him so he just felt stupid for not realizing that sooner and trusting someone with his problems but it wasn't just somebody it was you 

He was quiet for a moment, processing your words. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a deep laugh. You blinked in surprise at the sudden shift, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m an idiot,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve been sitting on this for months, and after less than ten minutes of talking to you, I already feel better. No wonder you were pushing me to open up.”

You laughed with him, relief washing over you as he climbed out of the car and pulled you into a tight hug. He buried his face in your neck, his arms wrapping securely around you.

“Thank you,” he murmured into your skin, holding you close.

You hugged him just as tightly, feeling the warmth radiating from his body after the game. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Nico. And I need you to know you can always talk to me about anything.”

He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his own still glistening but now softer. He just saw you prove that too. him but he really needed to hear you say it. He kissed you gently, then rested his chin on your head, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said with a soft laugh. “I’m fucking tired.”

[ukiiseikou]

the start of something new.

thoma x gn! reader. figure skating au

synposis: thoma's really nervous ever since he spotted you: skating prodigy, at the local rink he's volunteering at as the zamboni driver. a/n: this is part of a series called complementary figures, which is a figure skating au with the hyv characters!

"hi! sorry, this might be really weird, but can i get your autograph?" 

you look up at the voice from your phone, and you see a cute blonde guy giving you an awkward smile. there would be nothing weird about it, except for the fact he was just climbing down from the zamboni that was making it's rounds around your local rink a few minutes ago.

"oh, hey," you give him your best dazzling smile, "no problem! you got anything i can write with?"

"seriously? um, here!" he manages to scramble and produce a sharpie and a printed out picture of you at one of your competitions, a gold medal slung around your neck.

"aw, this was from two seasons ago! when i won the world champion gold for the first time."

you make small talk as you uncap the sharpie, finishing your signature with a flourish.

"what's your name?" you smile at him again.

"uh, thoma - t. h. o. m. a.," you laugh at how bright red he is as you scribble down a quick TO: THOMA above your signature.

"oh my god, thank you so much," he says, almost breathlessly as you hand the sharpie and photo back to him, "my parents used to watch your parents on TV. we used to be from mondstadt as well."

"mom and dad? haha, that's so sweet. when did you move here?”

“a few years ago,” he scratches the back of his neck, “maybe when i was, like, twelve? anyways, i never managed to get the same ice time as you, but i’ve been watching you a lot. archons, that sounds weird, right? sorry.”

“oh, it’s okay. actually, thanks for the support,” you let out another laugh as he frantically apologises, “i’ve been skating here since forever, i think everyone in this town has seen me fall once or twice.”

"thoma! the ice!" the both of you wince as the rink manager yells at him, gesturing to the buckets of ice used to patch up the surface of the rink.

"right, that," he mumbles. you watch as he troops over to the buckets of ice, picking up one with a spatula. turning to survey the ice, you see the various divots and holes that dot the ice, thanks to you and the other skaters, no doubt.

“here, let me help,” you watch as he pulls on his rental skates and go to grab your own bucket, taking off your guards as you step onto ice. he awkwardly follows behind, legs scrambling to keep up.

“haven’t - haven’t skated in a long time,” he says, after straightening up.

“you don’t skate often?” you’re scared he’s going to splat straight onto his face with the way he’s moving, so you move in closer, just in case he falls.

he shakes his head, “winter sports and me? not a great match. more of a track runner, actually. just here to earn some extra cash during the holidays. my friend skates here, uh, ayaka?”

“ayaka kamisato? i know her, the one who skates with her brother, right? i see her sometimes.”

you blink and suddenly thoma’s feet nearly slide out from under him as he bends to patch up a spot. he wobbles before regaining his balance.

you breathe out a sigh of relief as you round up on him, “here, bend at the waist, not the knees.”

“like this?” you cringe as he does exactly the opposite as what you just said.

“not quite… actually, just grab onto me,” you take his hands in yours, at which he sputters at. you laugh as you take him into the middle of rink, letting go of his hands to scoop some ice to patch up the surface of the ice beneath you.

“like this,” you demonstrate, and when he finally nails the pose you turn around with a self-satisfied grin to focus on the far end of the rink.

thoma short-circuits, but as he watches you busy yourself with inspecting the ice, he turns and does the same thing, wishing that a hole could open up in the ground and swallow him whole. the extra cash thing was true, but he’s had a major crush on you for years - but he swears its not for that reason alone. ayaka and ayato are here, so he gets to hang out with them in his free time and not worry about being bored out of his mind all day; and he likes helping out the neighbourhood whenever he can, and when he heard the rink manager fretting about not getting enough volunteers this summer, he naturally signed up.

“hey.”

he nearly slips and falls when he hears your voice next to his ear, and you laugh - which sounds like wedding bells.

“i finished my end of the rink, you done with your’s?”

“uh, yeah,” he stares down at the nearly empty bucket in his hands, guess he works fast when spaced out and imagining things.

“great!” you take his hands again, and he has no choice but to allow himself to be pulled back and forth by you.

“thoma, do you wanna get dinner together? maybe my parents can meet your’s someday, and give them an autograph, too.”

he doesn’t reply, but you’re plenty amused by his ums and ahs and shaky okays.

[cajon-desastre]

Celebrating Outlander's 10th Anniversary with a special interview ft. Matthew B. Roberts and Maril Davis - Enjoy!

Season One

Hello Sassenachs of Reddit!

We hope you’ve been enjoying our celebrations in honor of the ten year anniversary of Outlander! This subreddit has been such a phenomenal resource and community for Outlander fans that we wanted to do something special for you all. So this week during the production of Season 8 we pulled both Matthew B. Roberts and Maril Davis from their busy schedules to do a quick Q&A about their early days on the show. The resulting answers are transcribed below for a bit of bonus reading material. -XO, Bestie

Let’s talk about the premiere episode, “Sassenach,” which is turning 10 years old. When you look back, what do you remember that fans might not know?

Maril Davis: Well, I don't know if this is a fun fact, but our first shot of that episode was Claire in the scene where she comes out after treating the soldiers and the war is over and she drinks the champagne. That was literally our first scene that we shot from that episode. We took a picture of the clapboard and all kinda looked around and felt like, oh, this is the start of something special. I didn't know it was gonna be this special. I didn’t know it would be this many years. That was my first memory of it.

Caitríona Balfe on her first day on set.

The day the magic began!

Matthew B. Roberts: Going back to the first episode, everybody was new. In a weird way, we were all Sassenachs. We had this group from Los Angeles that came over here and even though everybody spoke English, it was like being in a whole new world. And then we had a cast that was new to a big, American television show - certainly Caitríona and Sam. So, there were a lot of newbies, so to speak. I know a lot of people had worked in the industry for a long time but it just felt like we all stepped through the stones in that first episode. The first day was a little weird because it was not in Scotland, it was in “France,” because we did Claire being a nurse in France for our first day. And I believe we even did a little side unit of Claire learning how to smoke with Uncle Lamb. So, we were all over the place but it was really exciting. I remember the group of us being so excited to hear the word “action” and get going, you know? 

Do you remember the first time you ever watched the finished episode either in edit or among fans at the first premiere?

Maril Davis: I remember the first two episodes because they were kind of like a pair… watching those and just being so excited because, as a fan of the books, seeing that come to life was very special. I knew so immediately that we cast this series so well. I knew in that moment, “Wow, this is gonna work!” I remember having that feeling in the edit.

Matthew B. Roberts: I don't remember the day but it's like this: we've all watched premieres. We've all watched pilots. But when you watch something and you go, “Wow. We have a show…” I remember the feeling of watching it. “Wow. This is something I have not seen.” You congratulate yourself but you never know if you’re ever gonna get a back 9 or if you're ever going to get a second season. You're always hanging on a thread. We didn't know. And it wasn't broadcast television, so you still didn't know. I don't think we were quite done when we started airing. So we got some feedback and we were living in the days of social media really gearing up so that instantaneous feedback was something new. I'll tell you, that was weird! ... I didn't really get it until around the end of the second season how impactful the show had been to a lot of people. We put it out there but the fans bring the characters into their homes each week. They fell in love with them, they fell in love with the show, and they wanted more. And I know how I felt when I would watch my favorite shows and they would go on hiatus and you're like, “Oh god, please come back!” You wanna spend more time with these people that are now your friends and family that you care for.

As for the fan events… we had a really big premiere in LA for Season 5. So many people came up to me and said how much it meant to them. They didn't say it was good. They didn't say they liked the show. They said how much it meant to them. And that to me is different than, “I like the show.” That means a lot to me. 

The Season 5 Premiere in Los Angeles.

The story goes that Matt gave Maril the books around 2011/2012 because she was looking for a new project with Ronald D. Moore. Matt, how did you come upon the books?

Matthew B. Roberts: In one of my first jobs in the industry, a long time ago, I was a reader where you read scripts and books and do coverage on them. The production company I was working for handed me these books and they wanted to make TV movies out of them. I read the books and I liked them but I passed on them. I said, “They're just too big, there's too much in them. There's no way you could do it.” … I just couldn't imagine Outlander, any one of the books to tell you the truth, in an hour and forty minutes. You’d lose so much. So, I passed. And I literally made the note, “But it would make a great television show.” … Then Maril was outside my office one day talking to another friend of ours… she was looking for something epic. I just so happened to have the books on my shelf still. I kinda carried them along, they were too big, so I kept them in my office. I brought them out to her and I said, “Here, read these.” And she read them and fell in love with them. As the quote goes, the rest is history!

What stood out about the books that let you know this would be a fantastic TV show? 

Matthew B. Roberts: The shows that I loved and really bonded with had love stories that endured and it could be different kinds of love stories. There are friends. It could be husband and wife. It could be boyfriend girlfriend. Girlfriend girlfriend. Boyfriend boyfriend. It didn't matter, they were love stories. And when you start reading Outlander and you get into it, you start to realize, “Wow, this is an epic story!” When you start getting into over the course of time, you go, “Oh, it could be very episodic too. It's not only episodic, but it's serialized.” You can kind of come into it at a different time because there's time travel. If you started Outlander in Season 3, Season 3 kind of stands up on its own and then you go backwards and you go, “Oh, that's how they got there.” Oddly enough, when they handed me the books, I just took the top book off and read it and it just happened to be Dragonfly in Amber. I didn't read Outlander first. They didn't tell me there was an order. So I just read Dragonfly in Amber and it held up perfectly fine. Then I went back and read Outlander, and I was like, “Oh, that's how all that happened” but it still held up perfectly fine. You could tell Outlander in 50 different ways–pick a spot, start there and go backwards and forwards. As a storyteller, in television terms, you realize there's so much material here but there's also so much emotion over the course of this journey. And isn't that what we hear stories for? It's to be afraid, or to fall in love, or to fantasize, or to travel somewhere you can't go. Well, Outlander does all that.

Was there anything about the first season of the show that you fought for—for example, casting, certain lines or plot points, characters, etc.—and are proud to have in the show? 

Matthew B. Roberts: You know, that first writer's room was fun. It was fun to bring all the ideas and favorite parts because everybody had different things that they really liked about the book. And, to tell you the truth, that's how it works. You bond with certain parts of the story. I think the one thing that we felt very strongly about was can we tell this book the way it's meant to be told in the sense that Claire's narrative and inner journey is very big in these books. We had to go with the conceit, be bold and go, “We're just gonna do voice over.” It’s something that we don't keep up with all the time now because Claire has people to talk to. It's one of the reasons why, not only did we love the Murtagh character, but Murtagh gave Claire and Jamie someone to talk to when you're trying to get out of the head. We always say you can't film a thought and because so much of Claire's emotional journey is in her internal dialogue and monologues, we had to figure out how to get that out. We just dove into the conceit. But we learned our lesson in the first season. We had probably too many and they were too long, so we'd have to pause shooting and the actors would have to just stand around because we knew 45 seconds of voice over would come and we went, we can't do that anymore. So, we had to struggle and figure out, alright, what's the best way of doing this? Let's just play the action and see where it fits. So rather than make room for it, we kind of calibrated it in the timings.

Maril Davis: You could say I fought for Caitríona but I wasn't the only one. I remember we were about three weeks away from filming. We had potential other choices and we could have easily made the call to pick one of the other actresses for the role because production was really on us. It's very unusual to start in 2-3 weeks on a shoot this big and not have an actress. And Costume needed a Claire. I just remember saying to Ron in our office, if we don't get these two right, if we don't get the right Jamie and Claire, if they don't have the right chemistry, we're never going to succeed. So, I felt very strongly that we had to wait for the right person. And literally the next day, Toni Graphia sent me an email saying I found this woman named Caitríona. We got so many casting tapes. She was in an area we hadn't seen, maybe overlooked, or maybe that hadn't been presented to us for some reason. We all watched her and instantly knew and flew her out to Los Angeles. It went very fast from there.

What has been the most difficult thing about adapting Outlander for the screen?

Matthew B. Roberts: The challenge is to take what is meant for a book, that medium, and bring it to life. We simply cannot do certain scenes the way they're written just from a sheer time and budget standpoint. And you know it as soon as you read it, you go “God, I wish we could do this.” And you know you can't. We can't get this many people, or they can't build this many costumes in this amount of time. So, we pick the moments. … Oddly enough in Season 3, the Battle of Culloden technically isn't in the book. We find Jamie after. On the first pass, Culloden was really big and we realized we couldn’t film it, not the way it was written, so we had to figure out a way of bringing all that emotion to the screen but still have the feeling of a battle. That's what I think we've done really well. I think the group has done such a magnificent job because we don't need to show all the battles, we need to show the emotion and why it matters to Jamie and Claire. Once we went, “It's not about the fighting and the blowing up... It's about who we care about in these battles, focus on them,” then we brought down the scale a little bit and filmed what was important. 

Sam Heughan filming the Battle of Culloden (Episode 301).

Maril Davis: I think a lot of seasons have been challenging. I actually think this last season has been the most challenging. Every season has its challenge but some seasons just work out so well. I’m incredibly proud of Season 7. We didn't know if we were ending with Season 7 so we took two books and had so much material to choose from. The first season was also very easy because it was so easy to follow the books. … Season 8 has been challenging not only because we're ending before the books (so that is its own challenge) but it's also the last season. There's a lot of pressure. I feel like this book is a set up for the next book and its finale. So it's been challenging to try to go out on a season when you don't have the ending at hand.

Maril Davis and the crew on the set of Season 8 (from her Instagram @nightmaril)

Looking back at when you first started production, what were the main challenges or surprises of shooting Season 1 in Scotland?

Maril Davis: When we first started here, we were told that everyone shoots 11 day fortnights. So, for the first 3 months, we were in 11 day fortnights. For Americans who don't know, we shot the full week through Saturday and only had Sunday off, basically. It was very difficult and I think we were all dragging. Then we found out they do 11 day fortnights in the UK but usually on very short runs, shows that are 4 or 5 episodes long. About 3 months in, we went back to a more traditional 5 days a week and that was a huge relief. It was also very challenging in the beginning with the weather in very remote areas. But I honestly look back on those days and those are some of my happiest memories. I think we felt like we were all in it together and doing something really special. Even though it was tough, I really cherish those first seasons.

Sam Heughan and Caitríona Balfe during the filming of Season 1.

Matthew B. Roberts: It’s been a pretty amazing transformation, I'd say. When we started out, the studios that we have now manufactured parts for cell phones or something. It was just hollowed out empty warehouses and we transformed it over a decade. Now, it's essentially a working studio. We have construction. We have a mill. We have costume warehouses. We have prop warehouses. We can fabricate almost anything there. We also now have seven stages. We started off with two. And they weren't soundproofed! When it rained really hard we had to yell “cut” and we had to open up the doors to get the smoke out because we used real candles. Now we have extractors. It's soundproofed. It's a modern studio. We've really come a long way! Also with the crews. The first year, we brought crews up from different parts of the UK and once Outlander became established, so many of the Scots who had had to leave home to work came back and they got to go to their homes and families every night. They could work on a show that they were proud of, or I think they're proud of.  

Our cast of characters have become so iconic! Do you have any favorite memories from seeing any of the cast embody their characters for the first time? 

Matthew B. Roberts: We started in the writers’ room a year before we started filming. We had lived with these characters for a long time. I'd read all the books up to that point multiple times before we even started. So, I was fighting what I'd already imagined. And then you have people stepping on the stage and you go, “Is that Jamie Fraser? Is that Claire Fraser?” … You get something that you didn't expect and that you didn't even know you wanted. I didn't know I wanted Murtagh to live on but after seeing Duncan play him, I did. And that just happened over and over and over. I mean, think about what Lauren Lyle did with Marsali. She brought her to life and then you just keep writing to that. You dig those stories out of the books and go, “Let’s tell those stories.” That happened over and over again. Jamie and Claire were always going to be the through line. The more Caitríona and Sam embodied them and brought their own take to the characters, we found that current in the river. You go, “Let's take that path because that's the way they're taking the characters and those are the stories you want to tell.” So you mine those out of the book.

Maril Davis: Caitríona and Sam, obviously… seeing them together for the first time in Los Angeles. They met for the first time at Sony Studios. They have a very small screening room that's outside one of the office buildings and that's where they first met the first time. We all just were like, “Oh, this is really going to work. That was amazing.” Also, we cast Sam first, so Sam was able to read with some of our other cast besides Caitríona. I was in London once with him and got to see him read with Graham McTavish for the first time. It was really exciting seeing their chemistry. It came down to Graham and another actor, and their chemistry really popped on the screen. What was also interesting about that casting session is that we had Sam read with Laura Donnelly. At the time, she was a potential Claire contender. As soon as we saw her we all were like, this is our Jenny. She was fabulous, so she could’ve easily done any part, but just seeing them together and realizing “we have Jamie's sister” was also really special

What has been the most surprising thing that has happened to you, or to your careers, because of Outlander?  

Matthew B. Roberts: I don't know if I can answer “surprising.” I can answer that Outlander's given me a lot. I've gone from Producer to Showrunner and it's given me the ability to do a lot more in my career than I might have imagined ten years ago. It's given me a new family in Scotland that I didn't know that I could have. I've built lifetime friendships. We talk a lot about Outlander being a family. We've established this place, this studio, and so much of our crew that's worked from the very first episode are still here. Some have gone out, but they come back. I think it's because we built a really caring family. That's why we've had so many babies born. If Outlander ever comes back in ten years, we have a full crew just ready to go!

Maril Davis: I was talking to Diana Gabaldon the other day because we can see the light at the end of the tunnel, although that's not an appropriate way to describe this ending because light at the end of the tunnel means you're almost done and you're pleased about it. It's such a bittersweet ending. We're all incredibly sad. It's been a tough season because of the emotions of it all. But I was just thanking her because I truly feel like I'm not sure I'll have this experience again on another show. I have other shows, and I will have other shows, but I feel like this was, in a weird way, my first, along with a lot of other people's first—Sam, Caitríona, Toni, Matt… so many of us. This was the thing that really launched us all and we did it together. The TV industry has changed and now there's so much more saturation that this is just a very special one. When you're involved with something like this and you get a crew, cast, and writers you love… we all realized how special this was. That's one of the reasons it's hard to leave it, because it feels like such a defining moment for everyone's career at the same time and you don't often get that in this industry. You certainly don't often get 10 years of making a show.

After all these years, is there anything that you haven’t been asked about Outlander that you’d like to talk about?

Matthew B. Roberts: We get asked a lot, you know, what are funny moments or what are your favorite moments? I don't have favorites. I think that every episode is supposed to do the thing it's supposed to do and if you take one away, then you can't get to the next one… So many of us care about this show and I mean deeply care about it. We put our hearts and souls into this show for 10 years, 12 years for some of us that started on day one, and we want to see it all the way through. Is it important that people like it? Of course. But I think it's more important that it means something to them.

Maril Davis: Oh my god. What question have I never been asked? I will say, when you're not an actor, you get asked the questions that are a little more dry. You don't get the fun things, like, who cracks up the most in the writers' room? Actually, I'm not sure anyone totally cracks up. I don't know if that would be me. But we don't get asked the fun questions. We get asked: What's the tone of this season? Can you describe this season in 10 words?

Okay Maril, here’s one fun question to close us out then… obviously, the costumes on Outlander have been amazing. If you could steal any of them, which would you steal?

Maril Davis: Claire, in the first season, had this amazing riding coat with fur trim that she then gave to Brianna and that Brianna wore. I love that. And, I mean, the Dior suit. It feels like you gotta go with that.

The riding coat and the "Dior Suit."

Reddit

[ride-thedragon]

I know many people like to imagine a harmonious co-parenting situation between Harwin, Rhaenyra, and Laenor, but I believe there might be some underlying tension. Take, for instance, the moment when Joffrey was born. Harwin said, "My turn," while Laenor was emotional and gushing over baby Joffrey. It felt like Harwin was trying to stake his claim. As Rhaenyra's sworn shield, Harwin would be present during most of their family moments. This constant presence could create an uneasy dynamic. Just imagine Laenor having to watch Harwin trying to bond with his sons, and vice versa for Harwin, seeing another man freely be a father to the boys. The whole "my turn" bit makes me think Harwin was quite insistent on having his time with the kids, which could easily get on Laenor's nerves. Sometimes, it feels like there is an imbalance in Laenor and Rhaenyra's marriage. Rhaenyra always insists on the boys' Targaryen roots, which is all well and good, but the boys are more worried about not looking Velaryon enough and "their" Velaryon roots. While Laenor might not be their biological dad, he’s still their father in every other way, and the weight of his role is deeply invested in their identity.

I honestly don't like Harwin at all. I do agree with this reading, though, the reason I don't like him his because he was starting to risk the kids for what he deemed to be his right as their dad. That's really fucking dumb. I know that people frame it as a love is the death of duty type of deal, but it isn't. Its ego is the death of common sense. Sorry to him. He and Rhaenyra do suffer the same plight of their own self-importance having a negative impact on their kids.

As for Laenor, I can see that. I've talked about it before, but Laenor’s place seems to be whatever is convenient, and it happens so quickly after he loses Joffrey. I'm not a believer in the happy dynamic at all, and I can see the stake a claim argument because, essentially, that's what Lyonel was telling Harwin. I dont think he was as insistent as he was with Joffrey, though. It wouldn't make much sense to get so close so early on with Luke and Jace, but Joffrey seems to have changed the dynamic. He could have a kid that's his yk.

I don't know why the boys were dressed like that. I try and try to make sense of it as Rhaenyra staking claim, but that doesn't make sense because of her insistence with Laenor. Kings Landing actually has them in blues, reds, and black, but when they grow up, they aren't wearing a blue in sight, which is just dumb.

By the end, though, the boys aren't raised anywhere close to Driftmark, and Laenor isn't present. The Velaryons on the whole are treated badly by the show even in this season Baela, the ward of Driftmark isn't in blue or anything alluding to it.

I do think they are more focused on the adjusted accepting bastardy angle rather than giving them that Velayron tie at this point, which is sad. They like the basrardy but not who it comes from? Or trying to signal otherwise.

Overall, Laenor deserved better. He doesn't even get the chance to do anything wrong.

[igotanidea]

A men's talk : Jason Todd x reader

Christmas bingo day 24 : christmas market

A/N: I'm sorry for all the spellings that might be there! The preparations are crazy today and I;m in a hurry! Nonetheless enjoy the story and MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

***

Y/N was a master planer.

Every year, before Christmas she has prepared a list of things to do and connected them to day on which should be done.

Any every year it worked perfectly, everything was ready right on time before anyone loosing their minds during preparations. Until now.

And before I tell you what exactly happened on that particular year, please bare in mind that her boyfriend Jason was way more spontaneous than her and making "to-do" list was definitely not his style.

Now, on that year - Y/N fell sick.

And while she was being busy choking on her lungs and sneezing her brains out Jason was left to follow the detailed instructions of what and when to do. How hard could it have been to just read with understading and fulfil the steps?

Well-

In Jason's head it was an aberration. She couldn't truly have expected him to do the shopping and clean the aparrment while she was fighting for her life right? It was his duty, as a good boyfriend, to put her well-being above christmas preparations. Therefore, instead of checking the boxes he spent his time by her bedside, holding her hand and stroking her head whenever his vigilante duties allowed him to. Y/N's perfectly prepared list long forgoten as he was holding her close and checking her temperature making sure she was ok.

"Did you buy the presents?" she asked softly a few days before the christmas eve, nuzzling into his arms, feeling safe and taken care of.

"Mhm. Yes, yes, absolutely." obviously he didn;t but there was still hell lot of time and Jason was busy with much more important things in the form of loving his girlfriend.

'What about the christmas tree?" she snuggled closer to him, enjoying the warmth and smoothness of his bare chest, cause even despite the fever she was freezing.

"Obviously baby." he kissed her forehead. In any other circumstances he would be worried about catching the cold from her, but apparently Lazarus Pit gave him some extra immunity and he was taking full advantage of it "don't worry about a thing, I got it all handled. Now rest princess, I'm here. Everything is fine." her hair was silky under his fingers, her body fitting his perfectly - he just couldn't leave the love of his life alone, could he?

The panic started on the day of the christmas eve when he figured that pretty much nothing was done in the apartment. A few emergency calls got him a quite decent christmas tree and some decorations alongside with the basic dishes.

But.

One thing he could not get - and which was an absolute must for Y/N was fish. This was the only dish she was dead set on having on the christmas table.

And it was a problem that forced Jason to leave her and rush to the miraculously-still-open christmas market in hope of acquiring something.

And if you ever watched any movie about the last-minute holiday preparations you probably know all the comedic gags and funny situations portayed there.

Haha... haha... hilarious.

When you see it on TV and not take part in the great fighting for fish with Jason Todd.

Poor guy.

He emerged from the shop with his hair slighly ruffled and his coat askew, pretty sure he lost a few buttons and at least a bif of dignity. But it was all for Y/N and the though made it teeny tiny bit easier to swallow the humiliation. nonetheless he was starting to understand the point of her list, not that he was going to admit it to her out loud.

Nonetheless, he was a champion and was already imagining his girlrfriend's sparkling eyes and happy smile after seving her the perfectly prepared and seasoned fish. Those thoughts consumed him to such extend he was barely paying attention to the surroudning and didn;t notice the unwanted someone following him all the way from the shop to the apartment.

Flexible and sly little fella sneaked behind him into the stairwell and went up the stairs completely unnoticed, hiding in the shadow. He also used the few spare seconds between opening and closing the door to the apartment to penetrate inside the warmth he has been deprived of for so long.

"Y/N! Baby I'm home!" Jason called from the hallway taking off his shoes and coat, completly unaware of the tail he brough home "I'm gonna start cooking now, I got your favourite dish and - fuck!"

"Meow!"

The unexpected visitor seemed to be outraged that his meal was interrupted. The fish was delicious, fresh and even if the cat had to tear off the foil in which it was wrapped, the claws and little sharp teeth was perfect for this task.

"you little -!" Jason hissed grabbing the cat from the floor by his back getting ready to kick him out the door.

"Meow!!" the poor animal cried out desperately over and over again risking dragging y/n out of bed, dragged by the noise.

"shut up!"

"Meow!"

"just shut the-" Jason stopped int he middle of the sentence for the first time truly looking at the being that invaded his space. He took in cat's emaciation - it was pretty much skin and bones. He noticed the dull, dirty fur and the sheer desperation and sadness in those little eyes that were focusing on Jason, showing a mix of readiness to be kicked out and silent begging to be kept even if just for a moment.

"Meow...." this time the sound coming from the tiny shaggy animal was far more pleading and humble. "meow...." the resignation reverberating from every tone broke Jason;s heart at the spot.

"shhh...." he loosened the grip on the cat and started caressing its fur. "shhh kitty. I won't hurt you. it's okay. You're safe here."

The cat acted caucious for a second. After all this man was shouting at him just a minute ago and now was rubbing its tiny body in all the right places and it was so nice and something the cat didn;t get to experience in a long long time while living on the streets and -

That Jason guy couldn't really be this bad, the cat finally decided allowing himself to enjoy the little bit of caressing and purring softly.

The truth was that this unexpected guest reminded Jason of his own time as a shabby kid forced to fend for himself on the street and searching for scraps of food in the dumpsters and other places. Those memories in comparision of what he had now almost made him tear up and holding the cat was the only way to keep his cool. At this point he was sure he'll keep that fella.

There was just one problem -

"Now kitty I wonder how Y/N will react seeing what yo did with her favourite fish...."

"What is going on here? What's all that noice?" the girl finally showed in the corridor and her eyes grew wide at the scene.

***

Jason was torn between fury at the fact that she had willingly given up the fish he had fought so hard for her, and happiness because he had never seen Y/N smiling wider then when she put the cat on her lap and was running fingers through its fur.

And then it hit him.

She was smiling at the cat.

She was rubbing and caressing the cat.

How does that song go?

Jealousy, Jealousy?

A men's talk was going to take place in this household. Soon.

[yesimwriting]

Final Girl (Part 10)

 Final Girl Masterlist  (updated chapters 1-10 and extras, asks/extras involving the final girl fic verse are under the tag ‘final girl fic’)

A/n i’m leaning towards starting to write shorter chapters in order to be able to update a little faster but idk

Series Summary:  Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at  Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s.

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of learning that a certain redheaded journalist is making you a focal point of her true crime novel. 

----

In the least cynical way possible, sometimes I think a part of my mom craves conflict. Not in a narcissistic or violent way, just in a protective one. 

She doesn’t pick fights for the sake of having them, she doesn’t tear into things for the rush of adrenaline or to feed some complex. My mom likes standing up for people in a way that would be annoyingly self righteous if it was any less genuine. Any incident that could be interpreted as blood in the water has her diving in head first, ready to ward off any potential sharks. 

That’s why nothing about this rampage is surprising. She’s been pacing the length of the kitchen without giving the phone in her hand a break, typing out numbers at an unbelievable speed, only occasionally pausing to flip through the phone book on the counter. 

“Well then put me through,” she stalls long enough to put a hand on her hip, “Not to an assistant, not to the station, or the publishing company. Get Gale Weathers on the phone. Now.” 

This is the third time she’s pulled this stunt since I walked into the kitchen to grab a pity snack. The way she presses her lips together tells me that this time hasn’t been any more successful. “She’s too busy? Well, I hope she’s not too busy for a law su--” Something cuts her off. My mom blinks. “Hello?” 

“I told you that threatening to sue people wouldn’t work over the phone.” 

She pulls the phone away from her ear with a sigh. “It’s not a threat if I mean it.” The phone is placed on the counter as she turns her attention to the phone book. “That woman can’t do this. You, and your legal guardian, never consented to your likeness or story being used.” 

Unfortunately, that’s not completely true. Or, at the very least, it’s not that concrete or straight forward. When something’s news, information becomes a lot less easy to claim as personal or yours. Especially if personal information is kept vague enough. The second I was attacked by Ghostface and the news reported it, a lot of me in that context became a lot less legally sound. I’d have to prove it defamed me or hurt my life, which can’t be done before the book comes out. 

“We can’t prove that until the book is out.” 

She sighs, “There has to be something.” My mom taps her manicured nails against the granite counter top. 

My stomach twists with helplessness as the most urgent issue rushes to the front of my mind. It’s more than just someone taking advantage of my trauma or the fact that books are so much more permanent than any news headline ever could be. Books take time to come out, to circulate, which means that this tell all could reach its peak during my college app season. Princeton could see this. All colleges could see this. 

“Mom...” I can feel the tremor in my voice, but I can’t bring myself to stop it.

In a way, isn’t this best case scenario? Compared to what could have happened? Isn’t this such a small thing compared to what happened to Casey? I know this, but I can’t quite bring myself to feel it fully. Not when it comes to something I’ve worked for my entire life.

“What if--what if this gets in the way of Princeton?” 

She presses her lips together, watching me openly in a way that’s become familiar. “Oh, pumpkin,” she breathes, moving across the counter to pull me into a hug, “I’m sorry you’re going through this.” I squeeze her tightly. “And that I don’t know what to say or how to help.” She smooths my hair down gently. “But when it comes to school, all you can do is keep up your grades and when the time comes, write the best essay you can. And if they’re stupid enough to turn down your weirdly-good grades and insane resume, then screw Princeton.” 

Despite myself, I smile. Those soft digs at my type-A-ness aren’t lost on me and the sense of familiarity I get from them instantly make it easier. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah, and if you want, you could always write your own tell-all book that would outsell hers because yours is from the--” 

“Excuse me?” 

She lets go of me, taking a step back at my offense. “I’m not telling you to write it, I’m just saying a published book would look good on an Ivy-league application.” 

Sometimes I’m so crazy about school that I forget my mom is also capable of insanity. “Mom!” 

My mom lets out a sigh. “What? You’ve been obsessed with Princeton since your dad gave you his old college sweatshirt in the third grade, but now I’m crazy?” 

She’s half joking and I know she’d never actually push me to write something like that, but my stomach still turns. Yes, I have made a ton of jokes about having no morals when it comes to college apps, but it’s different now. Anything that has to do with that Ghostface stuff feels tainted. I don’t want success from him. I don’t want anything good from Casey’s death.

I pick up the spoon that’s sunken into my partially melted bowl of ice cream. “I am not exploiting this.”

She holds her hands up in defense, “It’d ruin Gale’s book, jump start your career in journalism.” My mom extends an arm, asking for my spoon. I sigh before handing it to her. She eats a healthy spoonful of ice cream. “Two birds, one stone.” 

I scoff, taking the spoon back and eating my own spoonful. "You’re sick.” 

My mom steps back form the counter. “Just a suggestion.” 

I’m about to assert my previous point when the doorbell rings. I raise an eyebrow at my mom, silently asking if I’m expecting anyone. I’m not so I just shrug, moving away from the counter and towards the door.

There’s a chance it could be Wells. He’s at work, but it wouldn’t be the first time he forgot his keys. I peak out the window and am instantly pleasantly surprised. I’m more excited than I can justify as I reach for the front door’s lock. 

The door creaks open and I fight down a grin. I don’t know why they’re here, but I don’t mind the unexpected visit. I had been planning on moping and rotting in bed until school. 

“Hey,” I mumble, latching onto my surprise. 

Stu flashes a warm smile in greeting, “Hey, sweetheart.” 

I wrinkle my nose at the nickname despite its tameness. My mom’s way too close for that. I’m torn between making a joke about it and avoiding drawing attention to my concern and giving Stu a reason to push. I settle on looking over at Billy. He’s standing in a way that feels a little stiff. 

There’s a chance they called first, since they usually do when they come over through the front door instead of just showing up at my window. “If you called, my mom’s sort of taken over our phone line.” They both already know about Gale’s book and the fact that she’s editing it to include me, since they were both there when I found out. That still doesn’t make it easy to talk about, “She’s hunting down Gale Weathers.”

"Then I’m scared for Gale Weathers.” Stu raises his eyebrows, exaggerating concern.

Billy nods once, “She deserves it.” 

That’s true. I wasn’t exactly kind to her during our brief meeting, but she ambushed me at school after I was attacked. But that can’t be enough to justify what she’s doing now, especially without so much as a ‘heads up, you’re in my book’ phone call. If you’re going to potentially ruin someone’s future because they happened to have survived a serial killer, it wouldn’t kill you to call first. 

“Anything...else up?” Stu’s question surprises me. Maybe I didn’t react fast enough or I still look as worried about all of this as I feel. 

I don’t want to get into the details of my concern. I freaked out in front of them enough after I saw Gale’s announcement on TV, but there’s no way I can get away with acting like I’m perfectly okay with it all now. I guess I’ll go with deflecting, “Just my mom being a total college obsessed psycho.”

The corner of Billy’s mouth tilts upwards, almost a smile. “You had to get it from somewhere.” 

I glare at him in a way that I really hope is cutting. “Shut up. I’m not psycho.” 

“I’ve seen the Princeton poster in your roo--” I shake my head sharply, extending an arm to softly punch Stu’s arm. 

He stops, more out of surprise than decency. I drop my voice to a low whisper in order to explain, “My mom’s not that distracted, and she doesn’t know you’ve ever been in my room.” Stu grins at my seriousness. “And she can never find out.” 

This only makes him grin more openly, “Keeping secrets for me?” 

“I’m not above kicking you guys out.” 

Billy sighs, a defensive huff. “I didn’t do anything.” 

A slightly too aggressive you brought him here almost slips out, but I manage to stop it. Maybe if I was in a more joking, lighthearted mood I’d let myself make that kind of aggressive joke, but I’m moody and there’s a good chance my irritation will slip into that. it’ll taint the comment and make it something a lot more serious than it’s supposed to be. 

“Yet,” I settle on, trying to feel as easy as the comment.

He frowns, eyebrows pulling together like he just watched me kick a puppy. After a second, Billy parts his lips, but he doesn’t get to say anything back. 

“Who’s at the door?” My mom’s voice carries from the hall and to the entryway, a moment later she appears. I turn my head in time to see her polite smile, a little irate thanks to how the last day and a half have been. “Oh, hi, Billy, Stu.’’ Her greeting is flatter than usual as she barely takes a second to look up from the phone. “Come in, come in.” 

I step back to create space for them to come in. Despite my mom’s instinctual fall back to politeness, she barely notices the difference as she hits redial before pressing the phone to her ear. “Do you guys want anything to drink or...are you hungry or...going...” She trails off, attention visibly shifting as she waves us off, “Hello, can I--look, that’s great, Jocelyn, but I need to get in touch with your supervisor?” 

With one last force-of-habit smile, she turns away from the entryway and walks out. I walk towards the front door, instinctually shutting and locking it. “That’s basically my life now.” 

“Poor thing,” Stu’s voice is thick with false sympathy, “Your mommy’s fixing everything for--” 

“Shut up.” The reply comes out too quickly, too serious.

Stu blinks once, clearly not expecting the hint of actual tension and hostility that managed to press itself into the two words. “Someone’s moody.” 

I squeeze my eyes shut for a long second. “Sorry, I didn’t--” Sighing, I try to force the stiffness out of my body. “This book thing’s starting to get to me. I know that’s not an excuse, I just--” I don’t know how to explain the knot in my throat or the nerves in my stomach. 

The thought of this one thing I was delusional enough to think that I might be able to one day put behind me being everywhere is starting to claw at my insides. That helplessness is being amplified by a strange form of guilt, because I’m the one that’s still alive, so why should I get to complain? 

“Hey,” Stu interrupts my derailing train of thought. He places a hand on my shoulder, “No hard feelings, okay?” 

I nod, irritated at myself for the tears I feel burning in my eyes. “Okay.”

“You wanna get out of here?” Billy’s question is so low I almost convince myself I made it up. But then he lets out a breath and tacts on something else, “...Or we could go upstairs or watch a movie or whatever?”

The offer is so gentle I nearly melt. “Did you guys want to do something?”

They did come here, probably for a reason. Not that they never come over just to hang out, but they usually have some kind of plan or suggestion, like going over to Stu’s or driving around or watching a specific movie. 

“Just wanted to see how you were doing.” Billy’s reply comes out slowly, his eyes not fully focused on me. “We called and you didn’t answer, and after the news thing...”

That’s fair. I did leave Stu’s house pretty fast after the Gale Weathers thing and haven’t talked to anyone outside of my house for over 24 hours. Usually people worrying about how I’m handling things makes me feel uncomfortably hollow, but this doesn’t make any of that come up. Maybe it’s because they’re not making it feel like pity. 

“Uh...” There’s honestly not much that seems fun right now. A part of me still wants to crawl under my covers and pretend that nothing else exists, but they’ve pulled me out worse moods before. “I can show you guys that album I was talking about?” The offer feels weak, a little hollow. Stu squeezes my shoulder before relaxing his arm. “The CD’s in my room.” I shrug, looking between the two of them, “Or we could do whatever.” 

“You’ve been talking about that CD for a long time for someone who always forgets to bring it.” Stu’s not even trying to hide his accusation as he starts walking down the hallway.

I cross my arms, giving Billy a look that asks if he can believe all I have to deal with. “Yeah, I’m just worried your top 20 pallet is too complex for our tastes to ever overlap.” 

Stu scoffs, “Yeah, I’m the one that’s into top 20.” 

“Out of the three of us?” Billy’s question rivals Stu’s blatant sarcasm. 

I fight down a smile as Stu turns his head enough to glare. The display of irritation is short lived, because Stu has to turn back around to avoid tripping on the first stair step. He nearly misses, but recovers so quickly I wouldn’t have noticed the misstep if I hadn’t been looking at him. Sometimes his stability surprises me, because Stu’s energetic and lanky enough to warrant being a little clumsy, but he’s a lot better at not tripping than me. 

We walk up the stairs, the only sound filling the space is my mom’s voice, too far for any specifics to be made out. 

“I think I miss your mom not trusting us.” Stu lets out a wistful sigh.

Rolling my eyes, I push open the door to my room. “Don’t worry, she’s just distracted.” 

Even though my mom’s phone tirade is definitely helping her be so easy, I know what he’s talking about. When Billy and Stu first started hanging around, my mom felt the need to hover a lot more. She’d check up on us a lot more than she would when I was alone with Sidney or Tatum. My mom would also make a lot of jokes and comments in order to pry as (not so) subtly as possible. Slowly, she became more accustomed (or maybe desensitized), to them and now my mom acts a lot more normal in front of them. When they leave, she normally still pushes a little, usually through humor, but it’s a lot more tolerable now.

Stu walks into my room before I can, walking towards my bed. “We’re growing on her.”

I sit down next to him. “Or she finally gets that you two barely register as guys to me.” 

Stu moves, intentionally bumping his knee into mine, hard enough to make my knee move. Once he has my attention, he flexes an arm. “I’m all man, angel.”

There’s an exaggerated quality to his reaction that I can’t tell if I’m meant to take seriously or not. It’s the uncertainty that makes me let out a slight laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

He turns his head, leaning back slightly as he presses his palms into my comforter. “Then how’d you mean it?” 

My face feels a little warmer than before and I can’t figure out what that’s about. I’m used to Stu pressing after comments like this. Sometimes his humor focuses on making someone feel uncomfortable. Retreating or acting awkward gives him a reason to keep pushing. But I have no good way to answer. 

I wipe my hands on the fabric of my jeans. “Don’t start.” 

“Maybe I don’t get it.” 

I stand, throwing him a dirty look as I move towards my CD player. “Maybe you’re full of shit.” 

He huffs, “Mean.”

My fingers skim the row of CDs on my desk before finding the one I’m looking for. I use my nail to pop open the case. “Yeah, I’m a real bully.” Billy, who’s been lingering near my desk, opens my CD player before I can. I set the disk in place. “Can you believe him?” 

Billy shakes his head once, a few strands of hair falling out of place with the motion. He picks up the CD case and starts studying the back of it. “I can’t believe you can’t.” 

Stu lets out a distracted sound of protest. I wouldn’t be surprised if I turned around and found him fidgeting with something. My room’s not a total disaster, but I’ve been too busy moping to fully clean it, so there are a lot of contenders for things Stu could be messing with. I can’t think of anything that’s within his reach that’s embarrassing or important, so I let it go. Billy seems a little tense and considering the headspace he was in the last time I saw him, figuring that out is important. 

“Fair,” I hum, shutting the CD player, “You uh--” His eyes flit upwards, away from the CD case. The look is kind of stiff, but not annoyed or wary. It makes me realize that I don’t really have a good way to finish my sentence. Asking if someone’s okay never feels natural. Especially when he’s only been here for a few. “You okay?” I force myself to focus on the CD player, messing with the volume instead fo just hitting play. “You seem a little tense.” 

He sets the plastic case down. “I’m okay.” Billy straightens, shifting his weight off of my desk. The movement is small, he hasn’t even taken a full step, but the change makes him feel a lot closer. “Just can’t believe she can do that.” His tone takes on such a hard edge it takes me a second to realize what he’s talking about. Is the book thing really bothering him that much? “To you, to--does she think she’s untouchable? That guy’s still out there, what makes her think he won’t find her and rip that bitch’s--”

Billy cuts himself off with no warning, eyes focusing on me. I blink. Billy might come off as intense and reserved before you know him, but he’s never seemed explosive or prone to emotional impulsivity like that. Even when I briefly thought he could have been the killer, he never came off as aggressive. He never even held the fact that I put his life in danger and accused him of being a serial killer against me. 

This tension is new and it came from feeling defensive over me. The realization that it has something to do over me makes me more antsy than Billy’s actual words. 

“Woah,” Stu says through a dry laugh. “Relax, dude, there’s no need to write the next news story for her.” Stu swings an arm over my shoulder. I’m still stuck on what just happened, so it takes me a millisecond too long to weakly attempt to get Stu off of me. He pinches my shoulder, the nail of his thumb digging into my skin just enough for it to register as stinging. “You’re in poor Billy’s head.” I can’t tell if Stu’s teasing is meant to be sympathetic towards Billy or accusatory towards me. “Give the boy a break.” 

My chin briefly tilts downwards, a compulsory movement that seems to genuinely want to listen to what’s clearly a joking command. “I’ll try.” 

Stu relaxes his hold on me, dragging his thumb up and down the exposed skin of my shoulder, soothing the skin he accidentally irritated. I extend my arm, turning on the music absentmindedly. The room doesn’t exactly feel tense, but I feel a lot smaller than I did a few seconds ago. I don’t know if it’s because of the dip into a gory, too real topic or Stu’s comment or if I’m still just irritable.

“Guess it’s not your fault,” Stu hums, squeezing my shoulder once, “You can’t help being lovable.”

I try to keep myself focused as I adjust the volume of the first song. “That’s true.” He lets go of me and I stand a little straighter. “We all have our faults.” 

Billy lets out a breath that’s suspiciously close to a laugh. “Yeah, your only flaw’s that you’re too perfect.” 

“You were the one ready to support a murder for her,” Stu defends bluntly, “Not saying that Gale Weathers doesn’t deserve what she gets.” 

In all honesty, I had been so distracted by the way the book would affect me and my chances to get past the Ghostface thing that I didn’t even think about the actual killer. This could get him to hurt someone else. Gale Weathers could be making herself a target, but I find the thought unlikely. The more I reflect on why he left me alive the more I think that it might have been because there’s more of a story when there’s a survivor. He joked with me about the final girl thing. He also called me once without attacking anyone. The asshole probably gets off on attention. 

Gale Weathers is probably the safest person in this town. The more she talks, the more attention he gets. It probably also helps his ego because he knows everyone’s after him and he hasn’t been caught. It’ll probably get him to hurt someone...just not her. Not that I hope Gale gets stabbed, it just makes her choices that much more selfish. 

I scratch the back of my wrist, staring at my open palm. The tiny white line, the scar carved into the skin of my hand seems bigger right now. “I don’t--it’s not like I want Gale to get hurt.” 

“No one’s saying you do,” Billy says, voice patient. 

I sigh, a part of me wishing this hadn’t come up. This was the last thing I wanted to think about, that’s why I’ve been ignoring calls and just focusing on homework. I walk away from my desk and sit down on my bed before slumping back semi-dramatically. If this is how Billy and Stu are acting, everyone at school is definitely going to start treating me weirdly again. Maybe Gale will be there, trying to chase me down for a quote. 

Ugh...maybe I can get my mom to bully the principle into letting me homeschool for a few days. A week maximum. Or maybe she’ll let me pretend to have mono or something. I have most of my textbooks here and I could get assignments from-- 

My bed dips, cutting off my train of thought. I turn my head enough to see Billy. “I--” His voice comes out so low I’m surprised I even heard him over the music. “I didn’t want to bring all of that up for you.”

There’s a softness there that makes it easier to genuinely shake my head dismissively. “It’s okay.” 

His eyes briefly meet mine. “I also didn’t uh--didn’t want to freak you out or--” 

“You didn’t.” That’s true, at least in the way he meant it. That level of anger over something that only really affects me did surprise me, but it’s not like he scared me. He hesitantly focuses his attention on me. I prop my head up on one elbow, watching him carefully. “You’re not as scary as you think you are.” 

Billy tilts his head, his lips tugging into an uncertain smile. “Oh, yeah?” 

He’s probing, likely trying to trick me into a compliment. “You’re losing your edge.” I keep my voice as nonchalant as possible as I drop my elbow and lay down again. “I think it’s all the time around me.” 

His eyebrows draw together like he’s seriously considering my hypothesis. “Valid theory.” The bed moves with no warning, the space to my left indenting. Billy lays down next to me without moving to make sure there’s enough space between me and the headboard. His arm presses into mine. “All the time in here can’t be helping either.” 

Billy does come over to my room a lot, usually crashing here when he needs to avoid his dad and doesn’t want to talk about it. Recently, though, he hasn’t been around as much. I didn’t think too much of it until I went over to Stu’s and saw that Billy wasn’t up for much of anything. “It’s the exposure to all the fluffy pillows.” 

“Probably.” Something warm brushes against the back of my wrist. Billy carefully traces an invisible line up my forearm. “This song’s nice.” 

The warmth of validation tugs at my chest. “It’s my favorite one on here.” He follows the same trail back down the inside of my forearm. “I think you’ll like the uh--” There had been a specific one on the track list that reminded me of a few songs he had shown me before. I list the titles in my head until I remember the right one, “Fourth track.” 

“Hm,” he hums in a way that doesn’t feel dismissive, just relaxed.

The bed shifts again. I crane my neck back, eyes straining to see behind me. After a second, I make out Stu circling my nightstand. “This is new.” He’s picking something up. Stu sits back down, making it easier to see what’s caught his attention. 

Oh. Not new, but I don’t blame him for not having my bookshelf memorized. “Not new.” He turns the book onto its side, studying the worn spine as if to confirm what I’m saying. “Just haven’t read it in a minute, thought it might cheer up.” 

There have been few problems that American Psycho and Patrick Bateman haven’t been able to at least help. It didn’t make me feel a lot better, but it was nice to distract myself from a real life murderer with the fictitious kind. 

Stu pauses, skimming the back of the book. “A little dark for a pick me up.” 

“It’s well written.” 

That’s true, and its commentary on social values and the rise of well off, stockbroker success and the culture that’s developed because of it is interesting and a creative analysis of society’s values. It also helps that despite being written with only a few redeeming qualities and being the literal villain (and weirdly misogynistic), I might have the smallest bit of a thing for Patrick Bateman. Not that I’d ever go for anyone like that in real life, but my fascination with his character is definitely a guilty pleasure. A guilty pleasure they really don’t need to know about.

He thumbs through the pages, attention focused like he’s actually reading it all that fast. Stu nods once, setting the book down at the edge of my bed before picking up a sweatshirt I almost forgot was still on my bed. He takes a second to feel the fabric of the sleeve before loosely folding it. Stu leaves it next to my book before laying down. 

We’re all lying horizontally now, but Stu’s backwards, his head closer to my torso and legs than anything else. The position makes it easy for me to secretly move my hand and softly flick his shoulder. Stu snaps his head in my direction, expression so shocked and slightly horrified I might as well have slapped him. 

It’d probably be smart to backtrack, but I’m clearly in no mood to make intelligent decisions, so I let myself laugh. The sound is a quick, too-smug giggle. Stu’s eyebrows pull together at the sound, the look concerning in its seriousness. I move to pull my hand back, but my reaction is too late. Stu throws his hand forward, grasping onto my wrist. I yank back once, had enough to be considered serious. Stu squeezes tighter, pulling my arm forward with an ease that embarrasses me.

“Stu!” A partial squeak, a partial laugh. 

He squeezes my arm to his chest, forcing my body to lean forward. I squirm, attempting to slip out of his grasp. I come close to escaping when I twist my arm back and turn my wrist without warning him, but Stu recovers. Growing desperate, I use my free hand to shove his shoulder. That backfires, too, encouraging him to use his other hand to keep me trapped.

The play fight escalates, both of us trying to win without getting up or seeming too invested. My wrist makes a cracking sound as I finally slip out of his hold. He’s quick to throw his arm forward and grab me again. Before I can even think to react, Stu tugs my hand upwards and briefly nips the side of my hand. 

I gasp so dramatically one might think he tried to gnaw off my entire hand. “Did you just bite me?”  Stu laughs, finally letting me take my arm back. I take a second to examine my hand, even though his teeth barely touched me. After deciding that my unmarked skin will one day recover, I prop myself up on my forearm and look over at Billy. “He fucking bit me.” 

Billy turns his head, unbothered by our conflict. “You started it.” There’s an underlying smugness that makes me want to shove him. I frown openly, not caring if I get accused of pouting. He sighs, holding up a hand. “Fine. Let’s see the damage.” 

“I didn’t even touch her.” 

I roll my eyes at Stu’s defense. Did it hurt? No, but it was deeply offensive. “You’re lucky I don’t bite you.” 

Stu lets out a breath, “Sweetheart, you can bi--” 

“Do not.” I keep my voice stern as I look at Billy’s waiting hand. He asked to see the damage, but there really isn’t any. The skin beneath my thumb wasn’t even grossly damp. It was more about my shock. But I still listen, setting my hand on his. 

Billy pulls on my hand gently, studying my skin intently. He even takes a second to bend my fingers and stretch them back out. “Think you’ll live.” 

I nod, letting Billy take his time still examining my hand. “Optimistic prognosis.” 

He shrugs slightly, his shoulder bumping into mine. “Only if you’ve had all your shots.”

Stu’s scoff and offended, “Fuck off,” are nearly drowned out by my laughter. Billy sets my hand down between us carefully. My giggling fit is drawn out by the rush of fondness in my chest. These two really are so much weirder than people realize and I wouldn’t change it for anything. Wow. They really are my best friends, and maybe arguably the most important people in my life. 

Feeling this close to anyone usually makes me want to be flighty. I’m not used to it when it comes to people I haven’t known my entire life, and there’s an inherent nervousness when it comes to growing attached to people you don’t completely know. It is kind of weird to feel this close to them and I haven’t even seen Billy’s room yet, so it makes sense that sometimes it feels different than what I’m used to. 

“What are you thinking about?” The question takes me by surprise, breaking the easy silence that’s been carried by the soft music. 

I blink at Billy’s words, a small part of me reacting like I’ve been caught doing something embarrassing. “Uh...nothing.” Fairly true. It’s not like my train of thought was focused or made much sense. Still, though, I should probably give him something more so he doesn’t assume that I’m trying to hide a mental break down. “...That you’re one of my best friends and I’ve never been to your house before.” 

Stu lightly squeezes my forearm. “You’re not missing much.” 

“You bit me,” I mumble, “What do you know?” 

He relaxes his hold on me in order to run his knuckles up and down my arm. “It was a love bite.” 

“Like a feral cat.”

Stu scoffs. “This is why Billy doesn’t want you at his place.” 

Wow. Rude. I part my lips, ready to insult him. “Okay,” Billy interjects, “Don’t start again.” A part of me’s offended by the defense. I should be able to fight Stu over this. “You guys are kids.”

I glare, “Rude.” 

“Fine, let him bite you again.” My nose wrinkles, but before I can say anything, Billy continues, “And he’s not wrong, you’re not missing much.” 

He’s probably right, I’ve just been thinking about it a little more than usual. “Until I see it, I’m going to think that your bedsheets are bright pink.”

“Actually, they’re bright purple.” 

The sarcasm comes out so quickly, so casually, I almost think he means it. “Nice try, but I’m still assuming neon pink.” 

He sighs, “It’s neon now?” The question’s mumbled, and before I can say anything back, Billy sits up. 

Stu turns onto his side, eyebrows drawn together in order to silently ask what’s up with Billy. “What are you doing?” 

“If she’s going to make up things about my room until she sees it...” He walks away from my bed, stopping close to my door. “We should get it over with.” 

Oh my god?? I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I also wasn’t prepared for the wave of excitement buzzing in my chest. I sit up too quickly, too telling. “Really?” 

It’s a casual thing that I really don’t want to make weird, but I wasn’t angling to get him to take us over there. And the thought is nice, they’re my best friends and a bedroom gives insight into a person. It’s also the perfect distraction after everything that’s happened today. 

“Yeah? Really?” 

Billy shrugs, already reaching my door. “It’ll be better than whatever she makes up about it.” 

A good point, because I was already thinking about ways to work in an assumption about him having zebra print lampshades and posters pulled from pre-teen magazines. “Am I getting that predictable?” 

He raises his eyebrows and Stu tries to conceal a laugh. I roll my eyes as Billy returns the question, “Getting?” 

“Haha.” Why do I hang out with them? I take back all the warm, fuzzy thoughts about them. 

I push myself to my feet, looking for my shoes. Stu sits up, waiting for me to find my sneakers. Because I was planning on hiding in my room until school, I almost didn’t change out of pajamas and now I’m glad I changed into some leggings and a comfortable shirt this morning.

My shoes were hiding underneath a pillow. I free them and sit on the edge of my bed to pull them on. Stu taps my knee, getting me to turn. “What?” 

He pats his lap once, implying something I don’t get. When I don’t react quickly enough, Stu sighs and bends forward. He pulls on my laces. “I can--” It’s too late, he’s already looped them once and is working on doing it again. “Double knotted?” 

Stu squeezes my ankle after tying my last shoe. “You trip too much for me not to.” 

I scoff, “You were almost nice.” 

“I’m always nice to you, angel.”

rolling my eyes, I move to stand after Stu straightens. 

“Grab a jacket,” Billy mumbles, “It’s cold.”

If my mom could see this, she’d never make another joke about him again. Actually, she’d probably say he’s one of my only friends with good sense. “Nerd.” 

He gives me a more-than-slightly-annoyed look as I reach for the jacket hanging on my desk chair. I make a point of holding up the jacket before folding the fabric over my arm. 

----

It’s a lot harder to not look like a little kid on a field trip than one would think. Maybe it’s the jacket that’s gone from neatly folded over my arm to a wadded up lump pressed snugly into my chest, held in place by my crossed together arm. The spring in my step could be part of the problem, a slight bounce that has to be a result of the touch of fall chilliness in the air and has absolutely nothing to do with internal excitement. That’d be way too dramatic. 

Billy unlocks the door and pulls it open. Stu walks in first, I follow. We walk down a short entryway that leads to a main living area. The living area is put together, radiating a neatness that almost feels clinical. Maybe that’s an exaggerated way of taking in the precisely angled arm chairs and the glass figurine that’s sitting on the coffee table, but I can’t help the thought. It has to be a byproduct of the ‘organized chaos’ my mom raised me on, a stack of magazines in the living room that never seem to fully straighten and unmatched pillows that get paired together to tell a story. 

The space is nice, though, some underlying factor I can’t pinpoint making it still feel a little homey. It’s almost like the room’s covered by an invisible cloak that makes it clear that people live here, that this isn’t some open house. I take my time looking around the room, trying to find a source for this feeling. 

There are a few framed photos, but none of them revolving around family enough to offer a homey feel, just pictures of a little boy growing up. The fuzzy one of the boy at maybe the age of six stands out on the coffee table, his smile reveals a missing tooth in a way that makes it a personal favorite. For a second, I think the subtle lived in atmosphere could be coming from the few knick knacks on the coffee table and book shelf, but quickly rule that out. Sure, they’re objectively nice decorations but they don’t fit together in that way. There’s no way a dad didn’t pick them out. 

I guess the feeling comes from the details. The most comfortable looking arm chair is the one closest to the bookshelf even though that corner of the room is almost a little too cramped for the two to sit next to each other. The rug matches the walls and the couch in a way that makes the cream colored pillows seem sad and out of place. 

“Is it everything you thought it’d be?” 

Stu’s voice snaps me out of my train of thought. I nod once, stepping towards the coffee table. My hand reaches forward, picking up the picture of the kid with the missing tooth. “Oh, most definitely.” 

Billy sighs at the same time Stu lets out a quick, easy laugh. “That’s a good one.” 

“Put it down,” Billy mumbles halfheartedly, but it’s too late. Stu’s at my side, taking the smooth frame. He holds it up and then down, squinting like he’s studying a complex work of art. “This was a mistake.” 

I grin, “Once again, most definitely.” 

“You used to be a real softie.” Stu delivers the comment in a way that feels almost factual. I bite down a joke about how used to feels like an exaggeration as Stu sets down the frame. 

Billy frowns a little too pointedly. “Yeah, I was the one that was sensitive.” 

I turn my head towards Stu, who’s stiffer than he was too seconds ago. There’s definitely a story there. “What’s that about?”

“Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” Stu pouts, lazily extending an arm in my direction. “He’s always been jealous of me.” 

Mhm. I roll my eyes, sighing as I reluctantly step forward and meet him halfway. Stu squeezes my shoulder. The gesture is gentle enough, but I still halfheartedly try to push him off. “Yeah, jealous sounds like the right word.” 

He huffs. “Don’t be mean.” 

I force my thumb downwards. My nail pinches at my skin a little but it works, I get in between the fabric of my shirt and Stu’s palm. He curves his hand to give me the space I need. “I’m never mean.” He tries to squeeze my thumb down flat. “Seriously, though,” I turn my head enough to look at Billy, “Story?” 

Billy tilts his head just enough for me to notice and his eyebrows pull together. The feeling that he’s silently trying to tell me something I can’t interpret tugs at me briefly. He straightens his stance before I can read too much into the look. “Imagine that with the impulse control of a seven-year-old, that’s the story.” 

Stu being a former terror is a topic that’s been touched on before. Usually, the issue with befriending people that have known each other their entire lives is that you’ll never have the childhood experiences together. You’ll never know whose parents hosted the sleepovers or who had constantly scraped knees or who went through an embarrassing obsession with some child targeted franchise. 

It’s a fair thing thing to be intimidated by. And normally, it’d sting from time to time, but with them it rarely does. I like hearing the stories, like the details that come up. 

Stu scoffs in complaint, fighting back with renewed interest as I come close to freeing my shoulder.

“He used to have a thing for bugs,” Billy offers after a second, “Didn’t like when people would mess with hives and-and food routes or whatever.” 

The hand on my shoulder nearly goes slack. I blink, twisting my neck to look at Stu, whose staring straight ahead. “Shut up.” The words come out uncharacteristically passive, and maybe even a little flat. 

Picturing Stu as one of those insect fact kids wouldn’t come to me naturally, but it does kind of fit. Not the defending them, but the interest in something that gets people to react. 

“Really?”

Stu sighs, “Not really.” Again, a surprisingly flat defense. “I didn’t have a thing...just thought they were...” He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, “Cool.” 

“So cool you had to put a beetle in Valerie Thompson’s cubbie.” 

...And there it is. I laugh despite myself, imagining a second-grade Stu and some poor girl getting into some kind of argument and then later finding something crawling between her crayons and coloring sheets. Maybe it’s a good thing we met when we did. Little me could be a monster in her own way, a way that wouldn’t have fit theres.  “That poor girl.” 

“Valerie Thompson had it coming,” Stu says, “Y’know what she was like.” 

I don’t know if it’s weird that I assumed that Stu was talking to me or both of us instead of just talking to Billy. The comment was small, offhanded and focused on a topic only they know about. It’s fair for him to not be talking to me. Rationally, I get it. That doesn’t mean I like it, though. 

I’ve seen them interact in ways that make it feel like everyone else is invisible. They get each other like that. Anyone that’s around them long enough to see them relax has to get it. It’s the kind of understanding that makes people insecure about their own best-friendship. Not that it makes me feel like that. Most of the time. 

Something about it right now burns more than usual. My feelings aren’t hurt, I’m not upset because that wouldn’t be fair, but I’m not comfortable and breezy either. That just makes it worse, why does it feel different now?

Maybe my irritability is a result of multiple things. All I’ve had to today is a few spoonfuls of the ice cream that I mainly picked at so that my mom wouldn’t worry and I’ve had no water. The whole book thing has been stressful, too, and the pulsing ache of a migraine is starting to settle behind my right eye. 

It was nice of Billy to invite me over because I asked, but maybe it’s too early for me to be out again. Maybe what I need is the safe enclosure of my bedroom, dim lighting, and a nap. 

I try to shake off my discomfort by acting on instinct. The instinct of a feral toddler that isn’t getting enough attention. I twist my thumb, poking his hand with my nail. I’m not being mean about it, but I could have been gentler. Stu doesn’t react, which only adds to my annoyance.

My knuckles bend, giving me the space I need to get enough leverage to separate Stu’s hand from my arm. He lets me. 

“Guess he hasn’t changed that much since he bit you today.” 

The direct comment has me easing slightly. I get myself to smile. “Clearly.”

Billy takes a partial step forward, “You good?” 

I scratch the back of my arm, trying to ground myself in the present. Be normal. “Yeah...just tired.” Which is true enough. I wipe at my face, pinching the bridge of my nose in an attempt to control the dull pain. “And I feel like I’m getting a headache.” 

He nods, expression cloudy. “You want tylenol or water or...something.” 

Pull it together. I force my hands to my side as I shake my head once. “I’m okay, just spaced out for a second.” 

“You need to lay down?” Stu tilts his head, watching me like a part of him thinks I could faint.

My fingertips press into my side. “I’m good, it’s just a migraine.” This is what happens when someone decides to write a book about the most traumatic thing I’ve ever gone through. “Probably just stress.” They’re staring attentively. I can’t blame them for their concern. If I freaked out right now, this wouldn’t be my first meltdown. The fact that it’s warranted makes everything feel like too much. “Can we get back to analyzing Billy’s baby pictures? I think I saw one with a pool floaty on the bookshelf.”

“Baby pictures are low tier.” Stu briefly lifts a hand before dropping it dismissively, swiping at the air. “The real making fun of Billy’s in his room.”

“Really?”

"Yep. All the angst.” 

Intriguing. “All the angst and pink sheets, right?” 

“Neon.” 

Billy sighs once, reluctantly stepping forward. This is all out of his control now. “You two don’t need to be around each other.” 

He walks past the couch, approaching a hall that leads away from the living room. Stu turns his head the second Billy’s back is to us. “So jealous of us.” 

Despite myself, I smile, finally feeling a bit more at ease. “So.” 

We walk down the hall together. Billy’s fully ditched us, but Stu knows where we’re going. The hall is short, we pass one door before Stu stops us in front of one that’s partially open. He opens it fully with a gentle push and walks in without a second thought.

I’m still stepping into the room when the bed creaks loudly thanks to the sudden addition of Stu’s weight. He’s making himself just as at home as he does in my room, rolling onto his stomach to reach for a pillow to tuck beneath him. 

Billy sighs from his desk chair, moving his legs off the foot of the bed. “What did we say you were? Seven?” 

Stu cranes his neck, glaring at Billy before relaxing again. “And a half.” 

“Feels generous.” The joke comes out instinctually, but my attention’s already divided.

Billy’s room is made up of deep blue-grey walls, not quite dark but nowhere close to light either. All the furniture is made of dark wood that matches the hardwood of the floor. The room is decorated a little neater than one would expect for a teenage boy, a few posters that are sized too well to not have been picked out carefully. They’re movie themed, though nowhere near as openly gory or sexualized as the one’s in Stu’s. 

Everything’s also nicely organized. Like, even more organized than my room. No clothes on the floor or laundry sitting in a basket or on a chair in a pile that’s left to grow until it eventually topples over. What I can see of his desk is also put together, no assignments or unfinished books or projects cluttering the surface.

I walk towards the bed, siting down on the edge. The comforter is navy blue and a lot softer than I thought it’d be. His sheets are dark colored, neutral plaid. Not hot pink or an obnoxious shade of purple, unfortunately. I can’t bring myself to mind being wrong. The space is really Billy in a reserved sort of way. It fits him. 

“No pink sheets.” Billy’s voice snaps me out of my analysis. It’s a good thing, too, because I was probably seconds away from touching things on his bookshelf and messing with the lamp and being nosey about knick knacks. I’d feel worse about the desire to pry and investigate for entertainment’s sake if both of them weren’t constantly looking through my things. 

My hand brushes the edge of the sheet that’s folded over. “Disappointing.” I twist awkwardly to better look at him. Billy’s bouncing his leg, not looking at anything in particular. “But besides that, it’s nice and not as embarrassing as Stu said it’d be.” 

Billy’s eyebrows draw together, “As?” 

Stu props his head up on one elbow despite the fact that most of his arm sinks into a pillow. “Look through his underwear draw and then we’ll talk.” 

I laugh, surprising myself with how loud and genuine it is. The suddenness aggravates the background soreness of a headache. I ignore it. “You’ve looked through his underwear drawer?” 

“It--” Stu cuts himself off with a sigh that sounds suspiciously close to a laugh, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.

Our laughing fit ends as Billy stands up. “Where are you going?” 

He walks around the bed, barely glancing over at me to answer, “Give me a second.” ...Okay? “Don’t look through my underwear drawer.” 

“No promises,” Stu calls after him.

Billy doesn’t react, extending an arm and instinctually half-shutting the door. Stu adjusts, forcing himself to sit up. He’s farther back on the bed than me, but his legs are so long his knees are nearly level with mine. “We’re not really gonna do that are we?” 

Stu half laughs-half scoffs, wrinkling his nose and scrunching his eyes together in pretend disgust. “I’m good.” I smile. “We can tell him we did, though.” 

“We should also tell him we found something really embarrassing.” Stu raises his eyebrows and I immediately regret it. I scoff, reaching back to smack his arm. “Not like that, I meant like a stuffed animal or something.” 

“Don’t you have stuffed animals?” 

My posture stiffens, a tiny part of me offended that he’s implying that my children are something I should be embarrassed about. “That’s different.” I frown, thinking of the one stuffed animal that lives on my bed and the few that live around my room. “And you said you liked them.” 

Stu never said that, but he has implied it. Nothing crazy, just a few debates between a duck my mom had given me as a child and a bear from my grandparents. He even asked about their names. 

He shrugs, turning towards me. His knee taps against mine. “I’m not complaining.” I narrow my eyes, skeptical if this is leading into some kind of joke. “As long as Daisy leaves Blueberry alone.” 

I fight down a laugh, because laughing would undo all of the work I’ve put in to convincing him that making up lore about my stuffed animals is something he should stop. “You made that up.” 

He tilts his head, “That’s what Daisy wants you to think.” 

“I don’t even think you actually remember which one’s Daisy and which one’s Blueberry.” 

Stu gasps like I’ve slapped him. “Daisy’s obviously the duck with the--the sweater--blue sweater with daisies--and Blueberry’s the bear in overalls.” 

This time, the giggle slips out. I’m still not convinced he’s not making fun of me in some way or setting up for some kind of joke, but the way he grins might make it worth it. “Too easy. Which one’s Jellybean?” 

He presses his lips together to demonstrate serious thought. “The...bookshelf one. The bunny with the--the ears.” Stu lifts a hand, using his fingers to try to draw something long and floppy in the air. “The grey one.” I grin. “And the last one’s French Fry, the dog on your desk for good luck.” 

“Okay,” I manage reluctantly, a confession pulled out like a tooth, “You did a good job.” 

Stu’s smile impossibly widens, reaching forward to wrap an arm around me. “I know my girl.” 

I sigh, mumbling a quick, “Not your girl.” Stu ignores me, squeezing me to him a little more confidently. “And you know I don’t actually think French Fry’s lucky anymore, he just lives there.” 

He scoffs, “Don’t talk about French Fry like that, babe, all he does is guard your homework.” 

I frown, craning my neck to look at him, “Are you making fun of me?” 

“No,” he breathes the word out in a way that makes it feel like the opposite of what it means. 

Some joke about how French Fry’s going to have to start guarding me from him is almost out of my mouth when something creeks. Billy’s opening the door, a glass in his hand. He extends the glass towards me. I take it instinctually, even though I have no idea what the water’s about.

“Drink,” Billy says, already moving to the other side of the bed, “For your head.” 

Ah. Not the first time Billy’s blamed an issue on me not drinking enough water. Even though I didn’t ask for anything, the gesture makes my chest feel warm. I take a few long sips. “Thanks.” 

Billy nods once, sitting at the edge of the bed. Stu twists himself to make it easier to look at Billy. “You know she just said French Fry’s not lucky.” 

“Wow,” Billy shrugs, a distinctly sarcastic lilt to his shock, “That’s blasphemous.” 

I roll my eyes before drinking some more water. “I just meant that I’m not like five and that I don’t actually think he can bark away the bad grades.” A barely covered laugh overlaps with the last of my words. I snap my head towards Billy. “What?” 

“Bark away the bad grades?” Okay, it sounds dumb now, but when I was younger the thought of doing my homework in the presence of French Fry was comforting. A school counselor recommended him to keep me calm during tests and now he’s just a good omen. “You just--you don’t seem like you were that weird a kid and then you say--” 

“I was not weird!” A little defensive for someone that was in the fourth grade with a stress plushy. “I was--I was like one of those kids that was basically an extra excited old person.” 

Stu’s arm slips off me as he adjusts the way he’s sitting. “Yeah, that sounds normal.” 

Really? After what’s been established about him? “Okay, bug boy.” 

He glares, openly offended. “It wasn’t like that.” 

“Sure.” 

“Okay.” Billy’s interjection tells me that he’s hitting his petty fight limit earlier today than usual. He only tries to preemptively intervene when he’s hitting a specific wall that Stu and I make people realize they have. “Before you guys start fighting like little kids, have you had lunch yet?” 

Unless you count a bowl of ice cream that ended up abandoned in my kitchen... 

Stu sits up a little more, “Nope.” He turns his head enough to look at me, “What about you, angel?” 

I tap my nails against my knee. “Not yet.”

“Wanna go to that pizza place?” Stu offers, already moving towards the edge of the bed to stand.

The thought of food isn’t particularly appealing, but I’ve moved past the stage of panic that made the thought of eating nauseating. What is nauseating is what could happen if I go out in public. Gale Weathers has been nonstop promoting her book. What if someone recognizes me? It was bad enough when the attack first happened and my school was buzzing with journalists...Now things are confirmed and Gale Weathers can’t keep my name out of her mouth. 

My grip on the glass of water tightens, “Sure.” 

“We can do something else if you want?” 

Ugh...a selfish part of me wishes I had it in me to pretend not to hear the hint of uneasiness in Stu’s voice. I could shake my head and say that pizza’s good, blame my hesitance on the beginnings of a migraine and sleep depravation. 

“It’s not...” Both of my hands grasp the glass. I press my thumb against the rim with enough tension to leave a red line indented into my skin. “She’s still talking about it and--and I saw some other show doing a segment on it and my name came up like three times in the five minutes that I watched.” 

It’s going to take over my life. Slowly but surely, it’ll take more and more. The buzz will die down and the side stares and not-so-mumbled comments will stop, because they did before. But then the book will come out and it will start again, and by the time it stops being super relevant it’ll be linked to my identity. Colleges will see it, any job that requires a background check will find it in seconds, and all it takes is for one person to find out and then it’s everywhere. 

What if I get into a great school and start making friends and then one person realizes they’ve seen my name before or looks into Gale’s career for whatever reason and then suddenly it’s everywhere? It’ll cling to me like a shadow, the label of victim the kind one and the conspiracy theorists... 

“You don’t have to put up with it.” Billy’s voice is low, almost unfeeling. I don’t get what he’s saying. Billy understands my question before I can ask. “The Gale thing--if she wants to use your name every two seconds to promote her book, you should let her know you’re not okay with it. Don’t make it easy for her, you’re not helpless.” 

The sharpness in his tone doesn’t feel aggressive, it’s urging. Honest. “Sorry, that was--” 

“Don’t be sorry.” I mean it. The directness and the lack of coddling forced me out of my the-world-is-ending spiral. My mom’s trying to track Gale Weathers down logically, but with someone that doesn’t mind playing underhanded to get what she wants, you have to work the same way. She ambushes people all the time. “I think I needed to hear it.” 

Gale’s office is probably in a public directory, and if it’s not, she’ll probably try to find me at school. There’ll be a chance to tell her off, a chance to stop her. Or at least, to get her to stop mentioning me like I’m a tagline. 

“We’ll take her down,” Stu encourages, gently bumping his fist against my arm, “After food.” He stands up, the bed shifting beneath his weight. “C’mon, if anyone looks at you, I’ll beat ‘em up.” 

I roll my eyes, letting Stu pull on my free hand until I stand up. “You offer to do that a lot. I think you just want to beat someone up.” 

“Nah, if I did, I’d just punch Billy.” 

Billy lets out an exhausted sigh as he stands. “Seriously?” 

“What? I’d say I’d punch her, but she scares me a little.” Considering how often Stu and I do fight each other, I really doubt it. “She fights dirty.” 

“Yeah.” Billy’s agreement comes out suspiciously fast as he opens the door. “I’ve seen her kick your ass.” 

----

a/n billy and stu when someone else takes advantage of y/n’s trauma: 🤯🤬

also next chapter should be a lot messier hehehe

Taglist:  @cole22ann @womenarecannibals @fand0mskullfa1ry @princessleah129 @i-amnotokaywiththis @fvcking-gxddess @suckmyass-things @im-better-than-your-newborn @michibuni @bigenargy @marli-lavellan @mushy-mushroom04 @neenieweenie @lone-ray @the-ruler-of-death @andthevillainshallrises @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @dixbolik-bby @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @peachycupotea @my5tica1ien @agustdeeyaa @astrial @3ll0kittylvr420 @zoleea-exultant @slaypussypop-21 @aonungs-tsahik @finnydraws @slytherhoes @vxarak @xofeeeeelsxo @thewayiknowyou @yourslashersfinalgirl @winterridinghood @maggieleighc @kobababysblog @moved2burntrubbertoast @gamecrew209 @idkf-loll @wolfgirl-205 @ultimatequeenieofsass @kathanibennett @itsjuststaticnoises @brittney69 @domaniquessidehoe @kaydesssssssss @superhighschoollevelnerd-blog1 @classicbandtrash83 @itzz-me-duh 

[discotitsposts]

born to die

reader is secretly best friends with a famous singer

bau x reader

set in season 7 so 2012

“Have you guys heard about that new singer, Lana Del Rey?” JJ asked the team while waiting for the brief of the new case on the jet. Hotch and Rossi had taken up conversation in the corner leaving the younger team members some quality time. Derek shakes his head. You smile to yourself. Lana was actually a stage name and her real name was Elizabeth and she had been one of your best friends ever since you had met her in the seventh grade during an incident in Lake Placid.

The team didn’t know that though. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell them. It’s just that the topic had never come up before so you didn’t reveal it. You were very mysterious to them. Honestly you were just private.

Emily smiles, “Yes!! Her album is called ‘Born To Die’ it’s so good!”

Morgan tells you that he’s going to listen to it. He puts his headphones on and closes his eyes. He starts singing ‘Summertime Sadness’ out loud. Spencer looks around confused. Not being kept up on pop culture he had no clue who she was. You explain to him Lana’s vibe is very vintage and her voice is beautiful, which is why people love her. You, having heard her early music when she first started, are very excited about her newfound popularity.

“I heard she’s playing a show in New York soon, wanna go?” JJ asks Emily when the jet lands

“I’d love to!! Who else wants to go?” Emily looks around at everyone. Morgan raises his hand and says, “I’m in!”

They look at you and Spencer.

“How about you guys?” JJ asks with a big grin. Spencer stammers trying to think of an excuse when you say, “I can get the tickets for us. I have an in at the arena.” They nod excitedly. Spencer, being quite fond of you, nods.

“I’ll go. It might be fun.” He smiles at you. Hotch and Rossi were listening in and tell you they would like to join. You smile at them and shoot off a text to your so called contact at the arena. The performer herself.

You smile and put your phone down.

After the case, you’re all back on the jet.

“Hey you got a ticket for Penelope right, I called her and she said she would die to go.” Morgan asks you.

“Of course! Couldn’t leave her out.” You didn’t tell them you didn’t need to buy tickets.

When you get back to the BAU Penelope runs in.

“We’re actually going!! I’m so excited!! What should I wear!” She asks you.

“Whatever’s comfortable!” You respond while folding your sweater up and putting it in your bag.

“Hey do you know what section we’ll be in?” Emily asks looking up from her phone.

“Right up front.”

Everyone’s jaws drop. “You got us all front rows?” JJ asks. You nod.

Day of the show

You and the girls had gotten ready together in your hotel room. Rossi had ordered a limousine for everyone.

“Where are the tickets?” JJ asks when you get to the ticket station and the man holds his hand out to check for your tickets.

“Oh we don’t need tickets.” You laugh and look for a security guard. You motion everyone to follow you. They look at each other in confusion but follow you. You tell Ed the security guard your name and he tells you all to follow him. He brings you to a backstage room.

“Are we MEETING HER?” Penelope, JJ, Morgan, and Emily jump around screaming.

Lana walks in and everyone damn near passes out. She looks absolutely beautiful. She’s wearing a white dress with her hair big and heavy makeup. She spots you and grins.

“Hi! I’m so glad to see you!” She runs to you and gives you a big hug.

“I’m so proud of you! Look where you’re performing! How do you feel?” You ask.

“I know it’s so crazy. I’m feeling a huge adrenaline rush,” She smiles fiddling with her hands. “Maybe some nerves too.”

“Well you’re going to do amazing. Just think of it as the bar you used to play at and I’m gonna be right there cheering you on!” The whole team is watching you interact with her in such awe.

“Alright, I’m going on soon. Ed, can you take them to their row? Have fun everyone!” She squeezes your hands and waves at everyone as she walks to the door. She blows you a kiss and you blow one back and shake your hips. A secret handshake you guys made up.

Emily smacks your arm gently. “Why didn’t you tell us you’re friends with a singer who’s been all over the radio lately?”

“You didn’t ask me.” Their faces drop. They hadn’t asked you much of anything when you’d first joined. Everyone was nice they just hadn’t spoken to you about your personal life much. Therefore you hadn’t told them anything.

“Know anyone else famous?” JJ asks jokingly as if you might secretly be friends with a whole bunch of A-list celebrities.

“Ever hear of Taylor Swift?” She was also a good friend of yours. You show everyone a picture you had taken with a Tay a few weeks ago when you had gone to dinner with her. JJ almost faints.

The show was a blast and you all had fun. She played everything from Born To Die and her latest release, Paradise. You had even noticed Spencer seemed to like the song, Diet Mountain Dew. He had been tapping his fingers rhythmically to the beat. Lizzy had pointed at you and smiled and waved to you all during the show. Her voice live is so beautiful. After, you had all hung out with Lana and went to dinner with her and everyone was spilling with questions for her. You were laughing for hours with everyone.

“I heard Britney Spears is playing at a stadium nearby tomorrow.” Penelope winds some more spaghetti on her fork with Rossi giving her a disapproving look at the improper way she wound her pasta.

“Oh yeah. For ‘Femme Fatale’ she invited me to that. I might go. Who wants to join?” You speak as if you’re just asking them if they want to get coffee. Leaving everyone wondering how the hell you know all these people.

Needless to say, after that everyone asked you a lot more about yourself.

[aziraphales-library]

I need some fix-it fics after season 2. Anything that continues straight after S2 and has a happy ending or alternate endings to S2 where they actually know how to communicate

We have started a #fix-it tag! Here are just a fraction...

Heliotrope (flower of undying love) by scatterbrained_salamander (G)

It had started off so simple. “Ah, well. He always did want to go his own way. Always asking damn fool questions, too,” Metatron had said, oblivious to Aziraphale’s inner turmoil. Aziraphale had given a false smile, and let the conversation drop. Aziraphale had figured it was just the Metatron, trying to sympathize with Aziraphale’s rejection. Surely he didn’t actually think that about Crowley. Not deep down, at least. Or: Working Heaven isn't quite what Aziraphale had pictured. After months of coping with the too-high expectations of Metatron and Co, and months of monotonous paperwork, Muriel comes in with an unexpected report. Someone had left flowers on his bookshop's doorstep.

Another Round by AverageContentProducer (T)

Crowley is quiet for a moment before responding. “Angel,” he says, voice low. “I don’t think the apology dance is getting us out of this one.” - The art of repair can be a tricky one. In certain instances, one may find that fixing that which has broken requires a person (or an entity, as it may be) to adopt a non-linear mode of thinking. This is not an undertaking for the narrow of mind, nor for the faint of heart. It is a very, very delicate operation. Which is to say that, sometimes, under truly dire circumstances… you may find that the solution calls for breaking things even further.

The Day After: Early in the Morning by the Sea by Eigen_Licht (T)

“... ’That doesn’t mean I will let you off the hook this easy. …I still want that apology dance.’ ‘Of course, my love’” Later, on a cliff by the east coast of Sussex, the night sky above them, Aziraphale and Crowley finally talk.

You left me with no choice by Wullam343 (NR)

"Just explain this to me, angel," Crowley growled. "If you know how things are going to turn out if you try this, why are you so hellbent on risking everything you have, even OUR FRIENDSHIP to defy heaven?!" "BECAUSE I WANT TO PROTECT YOU!" Aka i absolutely refuse to accept how the season ended so for my mental health i had to write this as a coping mechanism

everywhere by vivahate (T)

Something in Crowley snaps. He’s hearing what his heart needs, what it’s wanted to hear for ages, yet instead of long-sought relief all he feels is anger so bright and hot, he feels like he might catch on fire. A growl rips from his throat, unbidden and he stalks out of the room, out of the house, out into the raging storm. It is no match to the storm brewing inside. He doesn’t bother counting. It will do nothing. Lightning passes through him and he roars along. It hits a tree nearby and the emotional release only leaves him all the more empty. Even now he can feel Aziraphale’s presence, watchful, careful. His angel in despair. But still looking out for him. - (or; Aziraphale uncovers what Heaven was actually trying to accomplish by appointing him as a leader, grovels and gets his priorities straight. And the world does not end this time around either.)

tender is the night by Path_Finder (T)

“I confess, I’ve never had the opportunity to do something like this,” Aziraphale says. Crowley huffs in amusement as he grabs Aziraphale’s hand, guiding it up and letting his hand come to rest just behind Crowley’s shoulder blade. He places his own free hand on the small of Aziraphale’s back. Crowley can feel the rustle of Aziraphale’s breaths, too infrequent to be truly human as if he keeps forgetting that it’s something he’s supposed to do. “Is this...alright?” the angel asks. Crowley can only manage a nod. -/- Aziraphale and Crowley share a slow dance together during the ball. Confessions ensue.

- Mod D

[iamnotoriginalphil]

I love your writing so much! 😭 And I hope you had a great holiday season!

If you're not to busy, I was wondering if you would be able to write about teacher!reader being in a secret relationship with Larissa Weems. One day their students are paying a little too close attention during class, but when asked about why, nobody wants to tell them about the giant red lipstick mark on their neck.

(I hope that makes sense! The prompt has been haunting my brain for days now! 😂)

This is a really cute idea so I'm glad it was haunting your brain. I hope this lives up to it.

“And that is why if you turn to page 86 you’ll see how the claws transform from fingernails.”

You let your eyes rove over the class, keeping track of how much attention your students were paying to the lesson. Their eyes were surprisingly sharp, following you.

“So can anyone explain to me in their own words how that’s done?” you asked, waiting for Bianca to raise her hand. She never missed a chance for showing off to the other students that she was top of the class. Not that you could blame her. You saw how hard she worked for it.

Instead, she lent over to one of her friends, whispering something. The other girl giggled, ducking her head to keep from looking at you. Bianca sat back, looking satisfied at the response she’d gotten.

You might have left it there if they were the only ones. Unfortunately, Enid was watching you with a bright smile on her face, which wasn’t in itself unusual, but she was almost vibrating with excitement every time she looked at you which was. Werewolf anatomy was hardly her favourite subject.

Eugene was staring at you wide eyed, a flush evident on his cheeks. Ajax was nodding his head, staring at you with a slight smile on his face. Your eyes flitted from student to student, their interest making you nervous. You weren’t used to this level attention on you. The class before lunches always a little difficult.

“Alright, what’s going on?” you asked, leaning back against your desk.

“Nothing,” Enid trilled, grinning at you.

“Seriously, there’s something happening here.” You looked from person to person, “am I about to be the unfortunate victim of a class prank?”

“We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eugene said but he wouldn’t meet your eye.

“Thankfully, you’re all rather terrible liars,” you said, “so are you going to tell me?”

“Have you had a good morning?”

“Well, yes, thank you, Bianca,” you replied, not sure you were following the course of her question.

“Seems it,” she said, not quite to you but loud enough for the entire class to hear.

Some of the students giggled and you had to do your best not to start questioning them again. You knew a lost cause when you saw one, and clearly they would not be enlightening you. You sighed, turning back to the chalkboard to continue your lesson, only to have the lunch bell ring.

“Class dismissed,” you said, feeling rather bemused by the events of day so far.

The rush of footsteps leaving the classroom wasn’t nearly so deafening as usual, a few students lingering. You offered them a helpful smile, shooing them towards the door. Just outside in the hall, granting her genial smile on them, was Larissa, towering over the crowd. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at the sight of her. Just that morning you’d had quite nice interlude in her office, lips and hands wandering as you did your best to keep quiet, lest someone hear you.

“Principal Weems,” you greeted.

Her eyes snagged on you as the last of the students disappeared around the corner. That smile softened, until her eyes swept over you. You saw the moment something changed. Already pale, she turned white as a sheet, eyes widening and mouth falling open. With a strong hand on your shoulder, she pushed you back into your classroom, door slamming closed behind her.

“Sweetheart?” Your eyes tried to search hers but she was looking at something. Something on you that you couldn’t see. Something that had worry churning in your stomach.

Her fingers gently traced something on the skin of your neck and you couldn’t help the shiver that went through you. You were helpless when it came to her. She let out a long shuddering breath, colour beginning to return to her face.

“What is it?” you asked, feeling frozen as her fingertips continued to brush over your skin.

“It appears we overlooked something when you left earlier,” she said.”

“Oh?” You did your best to lift an eyebrow but you’d never been able to. She chuckled.

“It seems I need to be more careful where I place my kisses when I’ve just applied my lipstick,” she said, “you have a lipstick mark right here in plain view.”

“Oh.” You thought about it, “oh, that’s what was going on with the students.”

“They noticed,” she said, not asking.

“They might have.”

There was a beat of silence. She looked at you, and you looked back.

The laughter burst out of the two of you, filling the room with noise. You lent forward until your forehead was resting against her body, her hands on your shoulders. You felt tears in your eyes and you were gasping for breath. It took a long time for the laughter to subside.

“Cat might be out of the bag,” you said, breathless.

“It’s going to be all over the school by the end of lunch,” she replied.

“It was nice while it lasted,” you said, “time to face the music?”

She slid her hand into yours, tugging you towards the door.

“At least now Coach Vlad will stop flirting with you,” she said.

“There’s that silver lining.”

You both laughed again, and life had never felt easier.

[tumblingxelian]

How does RWBY's worldbuilding hold up for you?

Ooh fun question, and one I can answer in a short amount of time!

Long story short, yeah it holds up quite well, I don't need to make any significant leaps in logic or desperately headcanon things to compensate the way I might with some other settings.

For instance most super hero settings don't hold up to scrutiny, or present themselves consistently/coherently once they starts whipping out the more ridiculous sci-fi tech and or magic.

This isn't to say its perfect, nothing is, or that there aren't more details I'd like to see explored or various minor nitpicks I could probably pull out if I felt so inclined.

But as it is, I don't, but its not because I just love the series.

See, as much as I love world building, I do think it gets too easily used as a cudgel by bad faith critics.

Let's be real here, even some of the worlds best authors do not have Tolkein's patience to create a whole new language, & I imagine even his stuff raised questions or inconsistencies.

The absence of local languages/accents, them not explaining the praying statues in the V4 trailer don't bug me. Cos their absence is not harming the story.

Meanwhile if there's an inconsistency or question, that too is fine as they are watched enough to avoid any real issues & so I can focus on having a good time.

Hell, let's bring up ATLA, the golden calf for critics who never watched anything else in their lives without asking "Where's the Zuko though?"

Off the cuff & late at night I can name many ATLA world building issues.

The writers one hundred percent do not grasp the philosophical ideas they are trying to espouse, showing a grasp of "Letting go" almost as wrongheaded anti Jedi people.

The origins and nature of bending is inconsistent even just within the first series, being and or coming from education, gifts, blood, spirits, some combination there-of or what have you.

If we jump to Korra the Spirits themselves are weird, initially presented as physical manifestations of a given land, they instead become essentially alien invaders & stuff like the Lion Turtles, Koi, Badger moles & more are just left as ???? Plus again spiritual misunderstanding.

Or heck, one of my biggest gripes ties into the plot as well but would be the introduction of "Bad firebending" and its counterpart "Good Firebending" introduced very late in the game at season 3.

The problem with saying it was meant to be a surprise is we've seen every Bender tap into anger when bending. Toph cracks the ground, Katara broke an iceberg, Aang goes into the Avatar State, ETC.

Anger & fire was only tied to two characters, Zuko during his season 1 lashing out period & Zhao where it was specifically cited as being unique to him and something to exploit.

Worse still, we've seen people happily Firebend, Aang;s issues with Firebending comes from having too much fun, getting careless with it & accidentally burn Katara. & we have seen sad or direction-less Zuko Firebend like a champ before now.

The 'revelation' of "Good Firebending" is the wrong solution to Aang's issue cos it does nothing about fires tendency to burn, & a solution looking for a problem that had to be tailor made for it to fix & did not exist before, Zuko.

The thing is though, while I will happily harp on the last one as part of a greater collection of issues in season 3. The truth is people are not bothered by these things if they watch a show in good faith.

One doesn't even need to like a show to do this, its just part of the deal when watching fictional media that some stuff is not always going to add up perfectly.

What matters is if the writers made it interesting, feel like it fit coherently within the world and kept it consistent enough that it didn't break the story.

Which CRWBY very much do.

They created a wide, vibrant, varied and interesting world, where a multitude of stories could and do take place that can be expanded upon if one wants.

They created and kept consistent its internal logic as best as it can be conveyed to we the audience when the characters also don't know everything.

Above all they used it to tell a interesting and engaging story, where skill & strategy matter so much in combat Where its so easy to believe bandits and criminals can thrive in the wild. Where the introduction of something like the Ever After can actually fit and feel like a revelation rather than break the story!

So yeah, I really enjoy RWBY's world building :)

[queenshelby]

The Fourth Season (Rewritten)

Part One: Intro

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Religious and Anti-Religious Themes

Notes:

Being obsessed with Cillian’s post Oppenheimer image, I have decided to rewrite this story as well and make it play during the filming of “Small Things Like These”…

I hope I still get some following and promise no further re-writes! Following my break from the fandom last year, I struggled a bit with finding my style and my head was a bit all over the place, so when I started this fanfic, I wasn’t planning it out properly. I do like the premise of it though and do not want to abandon it.

I also won’t rename it as “The Fourth Season” seems quite fitting considering that “Small Things Like These” follow a character leading up to Christmas.

Background

This fic plays in 2023 and, as usual, there will be an age-gap romance as Cillian is 46 and the reader is 25. I made her a little older than usual.

The reader comes from a strictly catholic family and, as a result, her family is appalled by the fact that the reader has taken a roll in this movie as it does not put the catholic church into a very good light.

For the reader, however, this is an opportunity not only for her career but also to get away from her family for a little while which is still in turmoil after the reader had separated from her high school sweetheart and husband James McCallum.  

As for Cillian, in early 2023, he is divorced with two young children. He has been single for three years and life was good. He finished filming Oppenheimer and took some time off before embarking in this passion project of his.

Six months ago…

Cillian’s POV

It was late July and the summer heat was scorching as Cillian walked down the pier in Dalkey with a fellow actor friend Matt Damon who, just like Cillian, had invested in the movie production.

The movie was said to be produced by Tim Mielants who also accompanied Cillian and Matt on their walk, and filming was scheduled to commence just after Christmas which left just one minor issue yet to be considered.

Whilst Cillian was staring the lead role of Bill Furlong, the woman who had been casted by Tim to play Bill’s wife Eileen had just pulled out, leaving this role yet to be filled with an affordable actress.

“You could ask Emily” Matt joked, seeing that both him and Cillian were close friends with Emily Blunt, but both of them knew that Emily would not be available for this role.

“I think we should concentrate on getting someone Irish” Tim told both Matt and Cillian who, by this point, had already come up with four unsuitable candidates for Tim to choose from.

“I think Matt was joking when suggesting Emily Blunt for the role” Cillian chuckled while adjusting his sunglasses and looking towards the horizon which prompted Matt to an idea.

“You know guys, I’ve seen a play last night at the Gaiety” he said before pulling out his phone and handing it to Cillian and Tim.

“The actress in that play was good and, when I say good, I mean really good. The play was called Dark Horizon and she played a widow named Siobhan who lost her husband at sea. Her ghost then plagued her until she was driven completely mad” Matt explained while showing Cillian and Tim the video he took from last night’s performance.

“She is good. What’s her name?” Cillian asked as he watched the video with an intention of his own to go and see the play.

“Y/N McCallum, aged twenty-five, from Cork” Matt said after pulling his phone from Cillian’s hand and opening the e-pamphlet which he had saved on his screen instead.

“She might be a little too young to play a forty something year old woman” Cillian chuckled while Matt put your name into Google.

“Make-up can take care of that” Tim said before continuing to read your agency profile and anything else that popped up in his newsfeed. “The bigger problem I see now is that she is married to James McCallum and working with couples on set might get a little annoying” Tim then pointed out, causing Cillian and Matt to furrow their eyebrows.

“Who is James McCallum?” Cillian asked as he could not remember anyone by that name

“He is in charge of logistics. You would have met him on the set of Peaky Blinders last year. He is thorough when it comes to staying within budget and organising essentials for the cast, which is why I hired him for the shoot” Tim explained and Cillian remembered him.  

“Fuck, I do remember that guy. He gave me a bible after he caught on to…you know…never mind…” Cillian said, aborting his sentence but Tim already knew.

“After he caught you and Sarah making out?” he thus said, causing Cillian to swallow harshly.

“Who is Sarah?” Matt wanted to know as he was not privy to this kind of onset gossip.

“His ex” Tim explained but Cillian shook his head.

“It wasn’t like that. It was just a fling. Nothing serious” Cillian pointed out but Tim couldn’t help but make another joke about it.

“Yeah, that’s why he gave you a bible, so that you could pray for forgiveness for your sins” Tim laughed before suggesting to see the play together with Cillian that night.

Your POV

Later that night, Cillian and Tim had indeed gone to see your play and the way you performed a troubled woman like the one on stage blew them away.

They were both mesmerised by your performance and ought to speak to you when you finished, which was something that you had not expected.

“This is a little weird but there are two men here to see you” one of the theatre clerks said after barging into the change room where you and some of the other actresses were putting on your regular clothes.

“That sure is weird” you joked, seeing that you did not usually get any visitors backstage.

“One of them is Cillian Murphy” the clerk then said and your chin dropped. You have heard of him, of course. Your husband had spoken of him in the past when working on set, although he did not have the nicest things to say about him.

“The actor?” you ought to clarify nonetheless, causing the clerk to nod.

“Yes” she said. “Do you want to speak with them?” she then wanted to know and, of course, you were intrigued about what they had to say.

“Tell them I will be just a minute please” you instructed the clerk who did as you had requested and, after putting on a jumper and tying back your hair, you met with Cillian and Tim in the lobby.

Both men greeted you professionally and with a handshake before telling you that they enjoyed the play and your performance.

“Thanks. I really appreciate it” you said before asking the men whether there was anything you could help them with and, when Cillian said that there was indeed something you could him with, you looked at him with some surprise.

“Okay, what is it?” you asked with a smile while struggling to focus. His eyes were really as blue as everyone had said and he must have noticed you starring at them by now.

“Well, we’ve got a role for you in a movie” Cillian said, causing Tim to furrow his eyebrows. Cillian was clearly more confident than he was and he would have approached this a little differently to say the least.

“And you want me to audition for it?” you queried, causing Cillian to shake his head.

“No, I want you to take it. Your performance on stage today was incredible and I would love to work with you” he responded, causing your chin to drop again.

“I have never been in front of a camera before” you explained but Cillian did not seem to care.

“There is always a first time for everything” he reassured you and you felt somewhat shocked.

“Well, I feel flattered” you said before asking Tim and Cillian for a script.

“I will send it to your agent tomorrow along with all of the particulars for production” Tim said just before shaking your hand and when Cillian said that he was looking forward to working with you, you could not help but chuckle.

“I didn’t say yes yet” you informed him. 

“I know, but I like being optimistic” he winked which left you and some other girls in the lobby somewhat speechless.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

[darkpoisonouslove]

HotD S02E07

Honestly, I do not have much to say about this episode (I think... it's still possible for my thoughts to spiral out of control as I start writing them out). There was barely any Greens content, which made me a little bored, I have to say. The thing is that they are kind of dragging their feet here. I get the feeling they're trying to get as many seasons as possible out of a single book but, like, maybe you could have explored the events of season 1 in two seasons then? We literally sprinted through more than 20 years in one season and now things are moving quite slowly. Anyway, more details under the cut:

Does Addam realize he could have just taken Seasmoke and fucked off to do whatever he wants? What was Rhaenyra going to do? Fight him and risk her life or at least losing Syrax to someone that isn't even her enemy in the war? Sure, he doesn't know Valyrian but Seasmoke didn't really seam to give much of a shit about that anyway. What I'm saying is basically that Rhaenyra is so lucky that Addam's ambitions of earning recognition only go so far because Seasmoke definitely would have fought Syrax tooth and nail to protect Addam if he had decided not to bend the knee.

Meanwhile Corlys during this whole episode:

His interaction with Addam was so awkward! Well, gee, thanks, dad, for the praise! Are we going to see him actually do anything as Hand?

Jasper trying to talk Larys into breaking the news of Rhaenyra's new dragon rider to Aemond was so funny. You can clearly hear him thinking "Well, he already hates Larys. Why should I draw his ire? Honestly, Larys should just take one for the team and tell him the news, which will 100% set him off!" Larys refusing to be the scapegoat by going "Tis' but a fable." The Larys content is popping off these last few episodes! I have to say that it's funny how ineffective Aemond has made his own Council by being so harsh and completely unwilling to listen to any of them. If he hadn't made it so clear he doesn't give a shit about their opinions and would trample them down for daring to say anything, they might have warned him earlier and they could have prevented Rhaenyra from getting more dragons. Not like she didn't have to outsource bastards from King's Landing. Had Aemond known about any of this, he could have intervened in some way but he brought this on himself.

I see we're not going to address the Rhaenyra and Mysaria kiss from last episode.

Oscar Tully, the man that you are! I don't really have much to say about the whole Harrenhal segment besides how fun it was watching this young boy completely destroy Daemon in front of everyone. He even forced him into a situation where Daemon has to do what Oscar wanted of him and after this obvious demonstration that Daemon will turn on his allies with the wind, he's pretty much further cemented the impression he made on the Riverlands lords that they should never consider him their leader. I like how they made it understandable why Oscar is so set on keeping old oaths since that's the way the Riverlands function. The choice to only make Daemon "succeed" through factors that he has entirely no control of is priceless, it has to be said. At this point they can just write "loser" on his forehead.

That red cloak for Rhaenyra's maid is such a baffling design choice. She's supposed to be incognito but she stands out like a sore thumb. Besides, only someone rich can afford to have clothes dyed in such a rich red color. It instantly makes it obvious she is working for someone of noble birth and makes her so very easy to keep track of even in a crowd. Why have they done this?

Someone pointed out that putting up fliers when the general population is illiterate is a really funny way to advertise and I have to agree.

Respectfully, I do not give a shit about Hugh and his dead child. Maybe I would have if they had actually shown the death and didn't make him act like that's in the past already. Also, maybe once let a woman want something? I mean, they just lost their daughter. Let his wife want to have the power and means to prevent that from happening to other people and to any future children they might have ffs. This show only pretends to be feminist but will not let women want anything for 3 seconds.

I wrote a whole essay on Larys and Aegon and I've decided to make it the focus of its own post that you can find here.

Rhaena's scene is a perfect demonstration of what I mean when I say that they're dragging their feet. They just hinted that there will be exciting developments in the next episode and didn't do anything to actually move that plot line along. They could have easily cut that scene and put a condensed version of it in the next episode right before Rhaena actually gets to claim Sheepstealer.

The focus for this episode is obviously Rhaenyra's plan with the Dragonseeds and that has had some very interesting developments.

First of all, love how they show us that Rhaenyra is exactly her father's daughter. She hasn't thought this through anymore than Viserys did. He wanted her to be his heir but still married and raped Alicent because he just wanted to have sex and then proceeded to ignore his children from her and the problem that having legitimate sons is creating for the entire realm. Rhaenyra just wanted to have sex with Harwin and had three illegitimate sons and now to win the war for her own inheritance she has to take away the only symbol of legitimacy that Jace has. By very clearly showing that just random bastards that know nothing of the tradition surrounding dragons and can't even speak the language of the dragons can just as successfully ride them, she totally destroys the idea that Jace is somehow more than any Targaryen bastard that you can find at Fleabottom. Great job, Rhaenyra!

To be fair, all her options are equally bad but she's the one that did this. If she hadn't had illegitimate children, she literally wouldn't have been facing this problem. She just thought that her being princess and heir to the throne will give her a pass for anything but she has set Jace up for another war now. When she dies and he ascends the throne, there will be people who will think him not worthy of it because he's not any different from all the other bastards that were raised as the lowest links of society. There will also be the other bastards with dragons that can try to steal his throne. People were saying that Alicent is at fault for everything bad that happens to her children because she put Aegon on the throne but Rhaenyra is doing the exact same thing to Jace now and it is for a crown. She knew from the start her claim was shaky and that Jace's claim as her heir is even more shaky. She still proceeded because she wanted that crown.

The dragon tamers revolting against Rhaenyra's actions was such a great representation of how interlaced the dragons are with the classism and the "divine right to rule" of the Targaryens. To win this war Rhaenyra literally has to tear down the very pillars on which the supremacy of her house is built. She's self-destructing in slow motion because yes, she might win and get to sit the throne but the people will get disillusioned about the dragons being gods and about the Targaryens having the sole claim to the throne if any bastard can walk in directly from the street and claim a dragon. That voiceover in the beginning of season 1 saying the only thing that can destroy the House of the Dragon is itself sure is getting proven correct.

They finally let Rhaenyra do something that would tear down her image of the hero partially. Isn't it funny how she was so horrified by what happened to Ser Stefan but had no problem leaving 30-40 bastards to die? Sure, she had proof that her wild idea can be done once Addam and Seasmoke bonded but she knew very well that a lot of those people would die and she just didn't really care. Good thing they don't know about Ser Stefan's attempt and her reaction to that. Otherwise, they could easily turn their new dragons on her since she clearly still thinks them lesser.

I liked the way they did the bonding moment between Hugh and Vermithor. Hugh really showed he meant business and earned Vermithor's respect. But on the tail end of that, Ulf's scene was a fucking joke. Silverwing should have eaten him whole. Especially since he stepped in her clutch of eggs. Him getting a taste of what riding a dragon is like was still kind of cute. Also quite a revolutionary step for Westerosi society, though I have a feeling Rhaenyra won't like what that step leads to in the end.

Stop teasing me with mentions of Daeron, show! I am almost 100% convinced that they won't get him in here until season 3 so what's the point? Especially since we already heard the exact same information in the previous episode.

The writing for Alicent is so unserious fr. The way they are letting her wallow in this self-pity because there's nothing else for her to do is atrocious. Especially since the last trigger apparently was the riot in last episode, which is just an insult. What do you mean that all of her sacrifice and service to the realm was just so she would be hated? She's supposed to be beloved by the small folk. I hate the writers so much for the way they're constantly throwing stuff in to make you hate the Greens, and switching plot beats around, giving all the ones that earn sympathy to the Blacks. I've been ranting about that all season, however, so I'll leave it at that.

People that still think Alicent was trying to drown herself are so baffling to me. I could have told you she wasn't going to do it just from the trailer for this episode. It was clearly shown that she took off her dress before entering the lake. (Btw did the music while she was removing her green dress remind anyone else of "The Green Dress" theme from Rhaenyra's wedding? But a lot more solemn and just straight-up resigned? Which would fit perfectly with her stupid arc.) You don't take off your clothes if you mean to drown as it'd be easier to drown with more clothes on. And also, are we talking about the same woman? Alicent? Committing suicide????? After she saved Criston from doing the same???? I know she's on a downward spiral but she was just chilling in that water. That didn't look like someone trying to drown themselves. I guess that "I'm not sure I mean to [return to the city]" line could have sounded suicidal but I have only one thing to say to that: Alicent, get your ass back to the Red Keep right this instant istfg. Aemond just torched Aegon and she and Helaena were attacked and she just... leaves?????? Girl, what about your children? They need you! At least the trailer for the next episode shows that she's back.

People saying that Aemond should leave Helaena alone and not ask her to join the fight, you don't even deserve the RIP. I am different from you aka better. Please, for the love of fuck, get her on Dreamfyre and let her do something at last! They have completely glossed over and erased the effect that her son's death has on her but that at least means that she is totally capable of getting on her dragon and frying a bunch of people. I am seriously hoping that she will!

P.S. I might have known I was going to write a whole essay despite "having nothing to say". *sigh*