#now just give me those third books dammit!!

[duckuwu]

me, whilst reading the unbroken & the faithless: oh, touraine, you idiot (fondly).

[slayingfiction]

How I push through writing when I don't feel like writing.

Here are some of the techniques that I use to help me write more often or more consistantly when my laziness/depression/anxiety starts to take over.

I watch TV. I don't do it with the purpose of zoning out though. I watch something popular and well-liked such as the LOR or Harry Potter to get new ideas on how I can develop my story and apply their in-depth world-building ideas to help develop mine. Without plagarizing of course!!!!

Zoning out and daydreaming. As I have mentionned before, daydreaming is a huge part of my story outlining and world-building process. I'll stand in the shower, or take a walk and think about how my charcaters would act/react/behave in situations, mundane or not. Doing this gives me a better sense of my characters, and sometimes gives me ideas for scenes I use later on.

Work on writing related projects. These work well at keeping me distracted while still being productive on my writing goals. Example, I have one story I am working now, I made a new language (alphabet and numbers included) to include as a cool and fun component for the book. So, at times when I don't wan't to write, I continue creating the dictionary (very fun, 8/10 would recommend). Also, for the same book, my characters don't work off the Georigian calendar and 24 hour clock, so I've been working at creating a new calendar (harder than it seems, 2.5/10 dont recommend). These are side projects that help my story, without having to write.

Reading. You saw this one coming, I know. Reading is great, especially when you're editing, your writing style will unconsciously change to be more similar the author you were just reading. Also, most importantly, I'll be reading and think, "this story is really good, but you know what story I like even better? Mine." then change to writing.

This one is my biggest life saver!! I learnt about a year ago that sometimes I'll get bored of writing a story, and have difficulty keeping on track. That's why I finished my first book in 2016 and just started editing the first draft last week. The solution for me was to work on multiple projects at once, because it was much harder to be bored of multiple stories. I stick to 2, but will sometimes add a third. This is easy for me, because I have a list of over a dozen series I want to write. Don't abandon one project for another, use them as a distraction/ motivation for each other, so you're always furthering at least one project. I've never heard someone say, "oh no, i accidentally worked on this other writing project for three months instead of the other writing project I was doing. Dammit." No, we're just happy we have written something. Be sure to have well outlined story lines before starting, don't just start writing randomly or you'll reach a point where you don't know where to go from there.

Author/ writer projects. Maybe this is building a following, or community to share your projects and engage with. Tumblr, Insta, Reddit, whatever it is. My hope this year is to start up my website to offer publishing services (editing, graphic design, short writing courses) and build a following as a writer. (See what I did there? Never a bad time to self-promote ;) ) Having your own projects like this will help you in the future when you're going to try to publish and sell your books!

Talk with friends and a writing community. Never underestimate the passion that will burn inside you when talking about your story, or when others are talking about theirs. Surrounding yourself with a positive writing community can be the best thing for you as a writer.

Write or read (your story) every day. I'm not going to be one of those people that say you need to write 1000 words a day, that's a lot. But maybe try for 100? That could maybe only take 5 minutes, and at the end of the year that's still over 36 thousand words of a novel. Or just read your story, and I've always found it helped me get in the creative mood.

Make a playlist of songs that remind you of your characters, your story, or just puts you in the mood to write. Then play it ONLY when you're having trouble writing. Playing it while writing will not help, you'll get annoyed with the songs.

Just really can't do it today? That's okay, take a break. You deserve it. There's always tomorrow.

Does anyone else have ways they push themselves to keep writing? Let us know in the comments!

Happy Writing!

[pics-and-fanfics]

So Annoying

Pairing: Loki x Gn!ADHD-Reader

Warnings: Reader has ADHD! Fluff, people being annoyed by Reader, Tony is a jerk in this one bc he doesn’t accept that ADHD is a real thing (like teachers i’ve had)- Bullying/emotional abuse, soft Loki

Summary: You, Reader, have ADHD. Your best friend Loki helps you deal with all the problems that result from this when he comes back from his week-long mission.

Find my other works here!

You laughed, talking with Steve, lounging on the couch. Your phone lay forgotten on your lap, the book you had been reading still displayed on the screen.

“But Steve, there were more important things going on. Like a war!”

“Howard said there were going to be flying cars by now.” Steve says, the low volume of his voice contrasting with your excited one.

“But the point is-“

“Could you just shut up? I’m tired of hearing you yell all the time, Y/n.” Tony says, walking in. You shut your mouth, looking down at your lap.

“Sorry Tony.” you say quietly.

“There we go! That’s a much more acceptable volume.”

“I’m sorry.”

😔

You sit at the table, trying to listen to Tony. And yet, despite your efforts, your mind wanders. You start tapping your pen on the table, not even noticing what you’re doing.

“Y/N! For Christ’s sake! Either stop tapping that pen on the table or get out!”

You look up at Tony, putting the pen down and putting your hands on top of your lap. “Sorry.” you mutter, your face burning.

😔

“What are you doing? I said we needed to go half an hour ago! How are you still not ready?” You look up at Natasha, seeing she was all dressed up, ready to go.

“What? No, you said that only 5 minutes ago!” you say, checking the time. Oh shit.

“Hurry up! We need to go!”

“Shit I’m sorry! Just give me a minute, I'll be right out!” you say, grabbing your brush and running it through your hair before grabbing your shirt.

😔

“-and I know it’s a problem, but I really just want all the books in the series and I’ve already read the first two, I just need to read the third, but I figured that if I have all three books I’d be able to reread them anytime I want. Oh, that reminds me- I need to go to the library and give them some more books that I know I’m not going to read, but I need to clean out my bookshelves first.

“Oh, but that would take forever, and I know I’m going to stop in the middle of it and entirely forget to do it for weeks. I’m really sorry by the way, I know I talk too much. Okay, I’m going to shut up now.” You shut your mouth, wishing you could just shut up for once. Why did you have to talk so much?

“Thank god, I was wondering when it was going to end. Why do you always have to talk? Blah blah blah, 24/7. It’s so annoying.” Tony says, and you scowl.

“What is your problem with me? I’m getting sick of you berating me, Tony.” you say, turning around on the couch.

“You! You are the problem! You're always talking, your too loud, you always have to make everything about you-”

“Okay first of all-”

“-and what is it with you and ignoring the time? Things need to be done in a timely manner, Y/n. And those ‘overstimulation’ tantrums you throw are so fucking fake!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” you yell, getting up from your seat and walking towards Tony.

“Oh! I don’t? Stop trying to use ‘I have ADHD’ as an excuse. It’s not real.” Tony says, mocking you.

“It is a real thing, dammit!”

“No it is not! Stop making excuses and start trying to act like a mature adult!” Tony yells, getting in your face.

You blink back tears, sniffling.

“Oh here we go again! Stop acting like a baby, you’re not two, it’s not cute, it doesn’t make me feel anything except disappointment for you.”

You wipe your face, turning around and walking to your small apartment in the building, trying to stop yourself from crying. You slam the door shut when you get to your share of the building, and rush to your room, tears falling down your face as you wrap yourself in blankets.

😔

“Darling! I’m back!” Loki says, putting away the last of the groceries. He knew you’d forget to get groceries pretty often, so he usually got you some whenever he went somewhere.

He’d just finished a mission, and tried to call you, but you hadn’t picked up. Three times. It was unlike you.

“Darling? Is everything alright?” Loki looks around, putting the plastic bags in your designated basket for store bags.

Loki frowns, pulling his phone back out. He dials your number, and hears your ringtone coming from the bedroom. He follows the sound, softly knocking on your closed door.

“Darling? Are you in there?”

“Leave me alone.” Your usually happy voice was full of annoyance, making Loki worry even more.

“May I come in?”

“Leave me alone, Loki!” Again your voice was filled with venom, but he heard your voice crack.

You watch as the door slowly opens, light spilling into your room from the hallway. “I said-“

You get cut off when you feel the mattress dip next to you, and Loki’s eyes on you. You cover up your face, embarrassed. You should have gotten over it hours ago. And yet it stung, almost as if Tony had actually hit you.

“I’m fine, Loki.” you mutter, keeping the blankets over your head.

“Darling-”

“Leave me alone, my god!” you say, flopping back into the mattress.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong! Just leave me alone!” You could feel the tears gathering in your eyes, and you wipe them away, frustrated. “Why are you so insistent that something’s wrong? I’m fine!”

“Because you usually can’t wait to tell me about your week, and you're always so excited to see me that your words spill over themselves.”

“God, just leave it be. I’m fine.” Even you didn’t believe it, you heard the tears in your voice, which just made you even more frustrated.

Loki peels the blankets away from your face, the small sliver of light from the open door falling across your face. Your eyes were red and puffy like you had just been crying, probably for hours.

“Darling, please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

In response, you roll over, and Loki rubs your back. When he hears your quiet sniffles, he sighs, getting up. “Do you want some food?”

“Grilled cheese?” you ask, your voice soft. Vulnerable.

“Of course, dear. Come on, get up.”

😔

“Why does Tony have to be such a jerk?” you ask, and Loki puts your sandwich in front of you, a look of questioning on his face.

“What did he do?” Loki asks, trying to contain his anger. If he laid a finger on you-

No. He would let you figure it out on our own, you had told him that you needed to learn to defend yourself, that you didn’t want Loki fighting all your battles.

But still-

“Can I just show you?” Loki looks at you, searching your eyes.

“Of course.” He slowly takes your hands when you offer them, closing his eyes with you.

He watches the events of the last few days unfold through your eyes, feeling everything.

When you open your eyes, you see Loki, anger written on his face.

“I am going to show him just how much-”

“Loki!” He turns back to you and you sniff, rubbing your nose. “It’s fine. See? I’m fine!”

“Darling, you’re not fine. That’s abuse.” Loki says, sitting next to you, watching as you stopped chewing your food.

“I’m fine.” you bite out, annoyed with yourself. You were not going to cry again.

“Either you talk to him, or I will. Darling, this can’t carry on. I don’t want to see him bring you down anymore. That is enough.”

“I will. Just not right now. Can we just watch a movie?”

Loki looks at you, seeing how close you were to crying again, the tears gathering in your eyes as you stubbornly wiped them away over and over.

“Sure. What do you want to watch?”

😔

Well! This is somewhat based (probably like, 25%-30%) on some of my experiences with ADHD, which kinda sucks sometimes.

I hope you guys liked the story, and don't forget to let me know if you want to be tagged in the future! I hope you have a wonderful day!

Also, sorry I haven't been posting, I've just lost all motivation to do anything, I don't even want to watch Youtube. But I'm pushing through! I have exams this week too, so that's fun. 🫥 But yeah. Love you!

@vbecker10 @mochie85 @michelleleewise @fictive-sl0th @silverfire475 @huntress-artemiss @vickie5446 @sheris532 @lokixryss @lokidokieokie @stupidthoughtsinwriting @crimson25 @peaches1958 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @mybuckynotyours

[window-view-orion]

FYI: MATTEL CREATIONS HAS NO CANCELLATION POLICY

I was already aware of how painfully consumer-unfriendly Mattel Creations is, how broken the site is, how difficult and cumbersome it is for anyone unfamiliar or inexperienced with it to navigate releases and place orders, but this situation I'm dealing with has just put me over the edge of my patience.

They don't allow order cancellations. Not even on pre-orders. Not even on pre-orders that don't ship for another month and a half. Yes, I understand not being to cancel if the item has already shipped. Yes, I understand smaller companies having the burden of making manufacturing orders then having to refund that price to consumers that change their mind and being stuck with product. Neither of those is what's happening here.

Mattel is a 6-billion dollar corporation that seems to go out of its way to make things frustrating for their customers. They know they have a monopoly of certain doll releases through Mattel Creations, so they have no incentive to change their policies to be more reasonable. They've decided it looks good for the books when a release sells out in literal seconds, so they keep the stock low to make that happen, even when it means floods of bots snatching up stock instead of consumers. They have outdated, unfriendly policies that they bury in obscure FAQs. They don't respond to emails.

Have I mentioned the site is broken?

I placed the EE Rapunzel in my cart to double check that they didn't clarify ANYWHERE their return/cancellation policy, and now I get an error when I try to empty the cart. So she's just sitting there. Hopefully they don't decide to glitch and complete the order without my input, or I'll just be stuck with ANOTHER one of her! Oops, your fault, print out this third-party return label and ship her back to us at your own cost, then in 3-4 weeks MAYBE we'll process a refund for you.

And yeah, I'm part of the problem because I can't even say that I'm never ordering from Mattel Creations again. I already had the Jinafire fan vote doll on preorder, whenever the hell that comes out. I can't promise that there will never be a Creations exclusive doll that I want. I don't know how the hell to fix this, and would my boycott do anything anyway? No! They don't give a shit about their customers' opinions, clearly!

Thank you for listening to me complain! God dammit!

[messers-moony]

King and Queen | S.B

Paring: Sirius Black X Fem!Potter!Reader, James Potter X Fem!Twin!Reader

Summary: James goes through a lot during his time at Hogwarts but his sister is always by his side.

Inspiration: Click

A/N: If this comes off insensitive to anyone please let me know and I will remove this.

James Potter was a handful. From the minute he was born, he had this gleam in his hazel eyes that raged and burned with trouble. His twin, Y/n Potter, was almost the opposite. The soft smile that laid on her features and the glitter of calamity in her eyes. Euphemia and Fleamont were in for a lot the minute their twins were born. 

Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder is most comparative to having a web browser up with one too many tabs. James had always been unable to focus and was naturally messy. Truth be told, he thought it was normal, just as everyone else did. It wasn’t until his second year at Hogwarts did he realize something was genuinely wrong with him. 

Remus told him that he had this muggle thing called “dyslexia,” which was a difficulty in interpreting words, letters, and other symbols. However, it never affected his overall intelligence because everyone knew that Remus Lupin was indeed and wholly brilliant. It got James wondering, did his inability to focus, be organized, and hyperactivity have a deeper meaning?

His twin - Y/n - was quite the opposite. She made quick friends with Remus, Sirius, and Peter, who were close friends of her twin. Y/n was top of their class, creating a friendly competition with Remus, but she was always able to focus. Often she would hyper-focus, which would leave her working for over five hours at a time without realizing it. In those times, James would have to snap her out of it. 

Over the summer, James expressed his concerns to his parents. He was talking about how this could be a real issue he’s facing using Remus’ dyslexia as an example. Eventually, they gave in, letting James go to a muggle doctor. James had to fill out a questionnaire that would come back with his results in one week. That week was probably the longest week of his life. Nonetheless, his test results had come back positive. 

Fleamont and Euphemia would be lying if they were surprised. After hearing about the disorder, it was almost the definition of their eldest son. Fortunately for James, the muggles had come up with a cure - no, not a cure - dammit, what was it again?

Impede the symptoms! That’s what those muggle pills do. James was required to take two pills a day, one in the morning and once at night. Y/n was in charge of making sure he did so because - more times than he’d like to admit - he would forget everything if it wasn’t for Y/n. 

In third year, James was as energetic as ever while getting on the Hogwarts Express, “Aren’t you excited, Y/n?!”

She chuckled, “Yes, but Merlin, you don’t need to literally jump with joy.”

“But I’m excited!”

“I know that.”

They made their way to the compartment that held Remus, who was reading a book. James sat in front of him while Y/n took her seat beside Remus, “‘Ello Remus.”

“Hey, Potter pair.”

Y/n sighed, and James groaned, “That nickname needs to go away.”

“I quite like it.” Remus stated smugly, “Suits you both.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Y/n accused falsely, “It means that wherever one of you are, the other isn’t that far behind.” Remus replied. 

James had zoned out already, and Y/n snapped in his face, “Take your pills?” 

“Forgot.” James muttered guiltily, “Oh Godric.” She whispered. 

“Pills?”

“James went to a muggle doctor this summer.”

Remus quirked an eyebrow, “Did you now?”

“Got diagnosed with ADHD.” James informed, and Remus looked amiss, “Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder.”

“Ah, I’ve heard of that.” Remus said, and James smiled sheepishly, “I feel kinda odd, like out of place.”

“Why?”

“Dunno, just, why can't I be normal?”

“You are normal, James.” Y/n reassured, “And anyone who says differently obviously doesn’t care about you.”

The compartment door slammed open, “Who doesn’t care about who?”

Remus snorted, “Ever the dramatics, huh, mate?”

“‘Course.” Sirius flopped down beside James, “It comes with my charm and devilishly good looks.”

“Ah, yes.” Y/n said, chuckling, “Don’t you see how I’m swooning for you?”

The back of her palm was against her forehead, “Come off it.” James swatted at her and then elbowed Sirius, “Better not make my sister swoon.”

Sirius chuckled and shrugged, “Can’t help it. I’m just that irresistible.”

The four of them laughed at Sirius’ dramatics and continued talking about the new term. Remus and Y/n were talking about books they couldn’t wait to read. Remus was even kind enough to gift her some muggle books he bought over the summer holiday. Sirius and James bickered about what pranks to do this year, along with which ones were better. 

Third-year was fun. It was a year of flooding corridors, turning Slytherin robes red and blasting music in the common room after a Gryffindor victory. James was a brilliant Quidditch Chaser, and Y/n was a fantastic Seeker. Nothing was quite like the Potter pair. Something about them was just unforgettable. 

Maybe that’s why Sirius was so fond of her. Something about the Potters made people around them smile on the hardest of days. They made sure that every moment was a night to remember. Every memory was worth reliving. So adventurous, so reckless, yet so kind and loving. 

By the time fifth year rolled around, Sirius Orion Black had fallen off a cliff into a lake called love. Sirius completely submerged himself in love for Y/n Potter. The younger twin by just 20 minutes, but something about her was so divine. Was it her silk and glittering h/c hair? No - maybe it was her gleaming e/c eyes. Perhaps it was for her strive for adventure and extreme kindness. 

Nonetheless, Sirius fell hard.

And who better to tell than James Potter himself?

Causally - as usual - Sirius opened the door to the Marauders dorm. It was empty aside from the brunet boy with glasses on the bridge of his nose. His hazel eyes were focused on a textbook - Potions textbook - maybe it was to impress Lily. Sirius couldn’t care less, so he pulled the chair out in front of the desk and sat before James. 

“Mate, I need your help.”

“Running from Filch?”

“No. Something- Something worse.”

“Something worse?” The textbook shut loudly.

Sirius nodded, “Way worse.”

“Alright then, come into my office.” James teased, and Sirius grinned. 

It was silent, “I’m in love with your sister.”

James sputtered, “Excuse me?”

“I’m in love with Y/n.”

“No, no.” James waved his hand horizontally, “I heard you.”

“Then what else would you like me to say?” Sirius asked. 

“Literally anything else.”

“Sorry, mate.” Sirius muttered, “I- I really didn’t mean to.”

James chuckled and wiped his hand across his face, “I suppose you can’t really stop love, huh?”

“You really can’t.” Sirius agreed, “I tried. I promise I tried.”

“It’s not that big of a deal late.” James assured, and Sirius looked at him with wide eyes, “I trust you just-“

“Just?”

“I’m worried about her.” James completed, “I- I worry about her every night.”

Sirius softened, “It’s like you with Regulus-“ James continued before Sirius could interject, “And don’t pretend. Your silencing charms are bloody terrible.”

“I know you still care for Regulus, you worry about him every night, and I do the same for Y/n, except my silencing charms are better.” James teased sightly, “I trust you, Sirius. You’re the brother I never got but always wanted. You know, the brother I can play Quidditch with, rough around with, the brother who’s just as sneaky and mischievous as I.”

“But Y/n is still my blood. She's my twin, my best friend, my partner in crime. She was the mind behind my pranks before Remus.” James elaborated and then smirked, “Remus and Y/n make a great team, ya’ know?”

“They are quite brilliant.”

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, take care of her?” James looked like the eleven-year-old boy again, “Don’t make her a fling and don’t make this temporary.”

“Y/n is a strong woman, and she isn’t for weak men. I’ll be honest,” James chuckled, “She doesn’t need a man. She doesn’t even really need me. I need her more than she needs me. Regardless, take care of her. She deserves a man worthy of her. Someone that’ll get her ice cream at 4 a.m. because she’s craving it. Someone that’ll go on sporadic trips with her. Someone that’ll understand that after a hard day, all she wants is a book and coffee.”

Sirius was appalled; he’d never seen James look so passionate, “Growing up, mum always told me to be a gentleman. I know it may not seem like it sometimes, but she always raised me as one. To hold a door for them, push and push in their chairs for them, give them my jacket even if I’ll freeze.” 

“Those kinda things. Dad said I should practice on Y/n, and I did. From then, Y/n always got treated like a queen, and she deserves no less. I won't lie, my parents treat me like a king too, and I don’t want any less either.” James explained, “Be the king that’s worthy of my sister.”

“That’s all I ask of you.”

Sirius nodded, “I’d be honored to serve her as my queen.”

“And if you show her no less, she’ll spit you out like chewing gum.”

He shuttered, “I hate how accurate that phrase is.”

James laughed, “I know her more than you think.”

By sixth year they were dating. Sirius would be lying if he wasn’t eternally shitting himself when Y/n said yes to going to Hogsmeade with him, alone, as a date. In fact, James almost wanted to throw him a party for finally not being a little bitch and asking out his sister. This party consisted of a bottle of firewhiskey and chocolate because that’s all that was in the boy's dormitory. But a party nonetheless. 

When Lily rejected James for the last time before graduation, he was utterly heartbroken. He’d spent and dedicated seven years of his life to this gorgeous woman. Despite all his efforts and all his charms, she still wasn’t interested. James tried. He really tried. He wanted Lily so bad. His heart broke when she said her final words of goodbye.

“I’m sorry, Potter. Maybe in another life, just not this one.”

Tears had ebbed at the corner of his eyes as he made his way back into the castle from the Black Lake. In the common room, where he felt like he had just got dowsed in water. James made his way to the girl's dormitory. His hand curled into a fist and knocked lightly on the wooden door. Shuffling was heard from the other side, and the door finally opened, revealing his sister. 

Without warning, James crashed into her arms, forcing his nose in the crook of her neck, “Woah.”

“Are you okay, James?”

His body shook with sobs as he shook his head no, “It’s okay. Let’s go lay down, okay?”

Gently she led him to her bed. He curled up beneath the navy blue comforter and placed his head on the silk pillow sheets. If he tried hard enough, he could forget the way Lily’s hair smelt today or the way her green eyes glistened in the sun. Now engulfed in his sister's scent, trying to remove every feeling for Lily possible, he dug his nose deeper into the comforter. 

Y/n sat beside him, her back to the headboard, and ran her fingers through James’ already untied hair, “What's got you so worked up?”

“It’s done.”

“What’s done?”

“L- Lily and I.” James choked, “She- She really doesn’t want me.”

A new wave of tears overcame him, and Y/n continued to try and soothe him, “Well, she’s a tosser.”

James narrowed his eyes, “James, you know I love her. She's my best friend, but if she can’t see what’s right in front of her, then she’s an idiot.”

“Can I- Can I stay here tonight?” He asked hesitantly.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay at your dorm?” Y/n questioned, “Because you know who sleeps here.”

“Will you stay with me?”

“Till the end.”

After a couple of minutes, Y/n and James made their way down the steps to the boy's side. They walked up more steps and finally made it to the boy's dormitory. James collapsed on his bed in the left corner of the room, and Sirius perked up at seeing his girlfriend enter the room. 

“Whatcha doin’ here, love?”

“Staying with my brother.”

Sirius nodded and stood up to hug her, gently pecking her forehead, “If you guys need anything, let me know, ‘kay?”

“Thanks, Siri.” 

Gently Y/n pulled back the maroon curtain and sat down beside him again. James reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers. Something they used to do as kids. When a thunderstorm would go by, James would always seek sanctuary in his sister's comfort. 

He fell asleep that night, knowing he was safe, loved, and knew that someone cared about him. Even if Lily didn’t love him, at least someone else did. He had his boys, and he had his sister. Right now, that’s all he needed beside him: Screw Lily and her idiot decision skills. Y/n was right; she was a complete tosser. 

When Hogwarts was over, James and Y/n got a flat together. Sirius, Remus, and Peter got one only a floor above. Realistically this wasn’t the plan. James always planned to buy a house with Lily, but he was still healing, and after everything going on, it was vital for him to hold his sister close to him.

Euphemia and Fleamont barely lived to see their children graduate. Not too long afterward had died due to the horrid dragon pocks. It devastated both twins and Sirius. While Sirius wasn’t their true child, he very well could’ve. Euphemia noticed Sirius’s lingering stares on Y/n and the loopy smile that graced his features.

She was the one who got Sirius to man up. She was the one who gave him advice. She was the one who told him what books were her favorite, which chocolate she liked the best, her favorite quills. Euphemia was one of the main components in getting Sirius to date her daughter, and when it finally happened, the parents couldn’t have been happier.

James’ ADHD still remained even in his adulthood, making regular everyday tasks much harder and twice as long. Most of the time, the pills were able to help him complete those tasks. But sometimes, when Y/n wasn’t there to remind him, he would miss his days. When Y/n got home from work, she had barely taken off her shoes to see the apartment spotless.

It was a pleasant surprise, but James was never really one to clean, not that she really minded, but the apartment didn’t have a speck of dust on it. Hesitantly she put her keys on the island along with her bag.

“James!”

“Yes, Y/n?”

He appeared in the kitchen where Y/n was, “Um, did you clean the apartment?”

“Yes, I did!” James nodded enthusiastically.

Y/n sighed and gave her brother a sweet smile, “What did you not do today?”

“So, you know how you told me to go to the pharmacy?”

“Mhm.” Y/n nodded, “Indeed I do.”

“Well, they were out of my meds.” James informed, “I have to wait a week.”

“Oh, Merlin.”

“On the bright side!” James was already causing her a headache, “It’s gonna be a fantastic week! I’ve got so many things planned for us! We’re gonna go-“

James continued to ramble as Y/n grabbed her keys, bag and slipped back on her shoes, “I’m going to Sirius’!”

“Thought you were my sister.” James faked pouting, and Y/n smiled, “I love you, but you’re crazy.”

“I love you too!” He yelled as she closed the door.

[bringerofdeathandtheapocolypse]

Spoilers for 100 years quest so uh. You've been warned.

Ok so I was looking for those old character refs that Mashima used to put in chapters that had name, age, magic, likes and dislikes and I couldn't find Rogue's for some reason so I ended up on TVTropes and started looking through the characters and ended up on Laxus.

So now I'm hysterical because what the actual fuck.

I was aware that he removed his lacrima as I'd seen the picture floating around but first of all, the guy full on ripped it out himself.

Obviously it meant he wouldn't die since his opponent was trying to kill him if he didn't do that but that had to hurt like a bitch.

But also he ate Alexion's soul to get his slaying abilities back.

So he isn't second gen any more because he doesn't have a lacrima anymore and he isn't 1st or 3rd since he wasn't trained by Alexion. He isn't fourth since they weren't human, they were machines given dragon slayer properties(Dragon cry) and he isn't 5th because he didn't physically eat the flesh of a dragon, just the soul.

So does that make Laxus a new 6th generation of dragon slayer. And is Alexion's soul actually dead or will this be like Wendy with Irene and Laxus is just gonna have this dragon talking to him randomly.

Also also, is Laxus now the lightning dragon king like how Natsu was given the mantel by Igneel or does Kiren hold that title as he was the one to kill Alexion.

Its implied that dragon titles are passed on to the ones that kill them as Acnologia killed to get his title and then said that Natsu would be the next king or he'd make a good king or something that I don't remember exactly. So does it apply to dragon eaters as well since they are dragon slayers.

I am still hopeful that Cobra, Sting and Rogue will show up (Probably unlikely as they have no reason to be in another country at this point in time since he isn't in Fairy tail and that's the reason Gajeel and Laxus were able to pop in and get so much attention (I mean backstory for Laxus' lacrima and him becoming a new generation and Gajeel fighting God Serena (even if it isn't him) is pretty good all things considered) but I really want them to appear because they also have lacrima so it would be cool to get maybe one more case of a dragon eater causing a lacrima to exist or even just get more info on the dragons that their lacrimas came from (because it is also now canon that the souls do cry out for their hearts so there is at least 3 other dragon souls out their trying to find their hearts if they haven't faded by then) and I just really want more screen time for them. Firstly I love Rogue's new outfit and want to see more, second I want to make fun of Sting's because his fashion sense is awful, third I am desperate for more canon Cobra content because he is used so little and it disheartens me (Cobra has had the oracion seiz and Kotsh arcs to be a villian, the dragon king festival to be a reluctant ally(non-perma death included), the tartarous arc to change his tune(even if Jellal giving them no choice but to listen to him or they go back to prison makes me feel uncomfortable. Just let them be free at last dammit), the Alveraz arc (which we don't get to see him fight August just that sorcier lost) and half of the Rhodonite spin off manga (Which some if not a majority of people haven't even read the three spin offs and if you haven't then you should because they are amazing and hilarious and I wish they made one for Cobra because the potential that was their because all three of the books had two stories so one could focus on his time in the seiz or a short section about his reflection in prison or something and the other his time in crime Sorciere as they all have at least 1 story set during Fairy tail's disbandment) so if we got more Cobra screentime I would cry and sing to the skies.

Besides, if we don't get anything about their lacrimas then no one is stopping me from doing it myself. (I'm still debating if I want to do a sequel when I'm finished 'the bringer of death and the apocolypse' that follows 100 year quest although I have thought about it and have a few ideas because I have in fact planned how this story ends roughly, just a couple things that may change between then and now) After all, every dragon slayer is prominent in this au........ eventually

Well I went on a real long tangent here. Oops. I wasn't joking when I said I have no one to talk to about this because the like 3 friends I have either aren't interested in the series or don't want to put in so much time to watch over 300 episodes.

[stargaze-issei]

— "𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐞" (𝐛. 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭; bakugou and you had been dating for so long, but always had to hide it. he hates hiding you, he hates seeing you sad, and you don’t know how much more you can take.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞; a little bit of angst at first, but then fluff.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; bc… him.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 2.0k

it had been a long day at your agency, longer than usual at least. a lot of little incidents in your patrol areas, meetings, reports waiting for you to give them a final look. you checked the watch on your desk, almost midnight. by then, only the guards must have been in the building. a long, heavy sigh left your lips. you still had work to do, but the urge to go home was bigger, so after taking your things, you drove home, eager to see your boyfriend. bakugou mananged to get himself the title of number one hero four years after graduation, surpassing even all might himself. seeing him achieve his dreams filled your heart with love and pride, though it still hurt not being able to share those feelings with the world.

on your second year at u.a., katsuki asked you on a date after months of notorious flirting, no one was really surprised, in fact, among your class, everyone was happy because of your influence in the boy. your honey moon period was interrupted a few months later, on what was class a’s last sports festival. as third years already, all the attention was laid on you and your classmates. hundreds of pro heroes expecting to catch the most promising graduates, and your last chance to show you worthy. on every phase, you and bakugou would share knowing glances, secret winks at each other, little reassuring smiles from you and calming head nods from him. with all those cameras making you the center of attention, it wasn’t too hard for people to figure out what was going on between both of you. you ended sixth, only surpassed by uraraka, kirishima, todoroki, midoriya and bakugou, and were really happy with your performance. that same night, after a celebration with all your friends at the dorm, you went into your boyfriend’s room.

he was laying in bed, reading a book, but still reached out to pull you into bed. “mind if i use your computer?” you asked, him humming in agreement, too focused to pay you more attention. first you checked your personal account, when nothing entertainment surge there, you opened your official hero account. as you expected, the festival just endign a few hours ago, the tags were exploding. your face completely change when you started to read.

“so, are we just ignoring the fact that Y/N of all people was making eyes at bakugou the ENTIRE TIME?? keep it in your pants geez”.

“i’m sorry but if you think that bakuy/n thing wasn’t a stunt, you’re wrong”.

“guys. it’s as simple as looking at y/n, and then looking at ✨bakugou✨”.

“yeah it’s a no for me, like ok they’re friends but don’t make it fucking disgusting”.

and you could keep going. most of them were about how someone as great as katsuki could never lay his eyes on you, fewer were about how he was too aggressive and violent for you, and some were just people hating on both of you. tears gather in your eyes, was this what everyone thought? you knew from the beginning the difference between bakugou katsuki and you, who was lucky to even had made it that far, but you didn’t realise just how big the difference was. katsuki immediately felt something was off, so he left his book aside and grabbed your hand.

“i…” was all you managed to say before bursting in tears. bakugou hugged you as fast as he could, whispering softly calming words and leaving small kisses in your head. slowly, he took away the computer to see what made you so upset. blood starting to boil in his veins, his whole self shaking in pure rage. he got up, leaving you in the bed, still a little teary.

“i’m going to kick those losers to the moon, who the fuck are they to say those things? fucking bastards, i’ll shove their words so up thei–” he was walking back and forward in the small space of his room, stopped only when he saw you crying even harder.

“am i really th–that unworthy of you?” the voice crack made his heart break “i know i’m not perfect but i really thought that… that…” bakugou kneeled before you, looking at you dead in the eye. his hands gently reached your wet cheeks.

“don’t say dumb shit, dumbass. you are the most perfect person on this fucking planet, no one, not even youself, can say shit about that, ya’ hear me?” he did his best to calm himself down, knowing that you needed his comfort more than ever.

he took away the laptop before going into bed with you, holding you tightly in his arms. you were still crying, completely unable to get those words out of your mind. you loved katsuki, that you were sure, and he made clear several times that he loved you too, why didn’t people understand that? why it wasn’t enough?.

the next day, aizawa told both of you that in order to keep your mental health, at least until you graduate, to not make it official. he explained how sometimes, pro heroes had to keep their private life in check just to make things a little easier, as unfair as it sounds. so you waited, you graduate and held the impulse of kissing your boyfriend, hugging him, even look at him. it’s okay, only a few more days. katsuki sign a contract for two years with best jeanist, the number three hero at the time. you, on the other hand, had been offered to work with the lurkers, a team conformed by edgeshot, their leader, kamui woods and mt. lady, signing a similar contract to your boyfriend’s. you were overflowed with happiness, your dream had come true, finally you could call yourself a pro hero. you weren’t an intern, you were their equal.

“look, you are a great hero, but you are just starting” edgeshot had call you into his office, the manager of public interactions was next to him, talking to you “i did my research, and i’m going to have to ask you to keep this relationship of yours with ground zero a secret. you have so much potential, you need to leave a good impression or your hardwork would be for nothing.” you looked at your boss, seeing the uncomfortable look on his face. no one liked to ask those things, but sometimes there were sacrifices to be made.

“i have to talk with him first” was all you could say.

it killed you. not being able to love katsuki, to live a secret. most of the time all you wanted to do was scream in the middle of the street, where everyone could hear you. you loved bakugou katsuki, and he loved you, you wanted to spend you whole life with him, without hiding, without lies, without wondering if you were good enough for him. but it couldn’t be. now, four years later, both of you with your own agencies and a steady career, it still couldn’t be. again and again, no matter how many advisors you hired, everyone reached the same conclusion.

katsuki was waiting for you in the couch, watching a movie. instantly, you crawled to his arms, searching for reassurance. at least he was still the same.

“oi, are you okay?” even if his voice came out harshly, you knew he worried.

“i’m tired” you hid your face in his neck, intertwining your legs with his. you didn’t want to cry, but it was impossible to keep all the tears from falling.

“look at me” he said, lifting your face from your chin “what is it?” his eyes creeped inside yours, you hated making him worry, he lived the exact same things you did, but there you were the only one crying.

“i’m tired of this, bakugou” to hear his last name coming from you froze him in his place, what? tired of what? of him? you wanted to break up? “i can’t do it anymore” the way you grabbed his hand gave him confusing signs. “i want to go out with you, to hold your hand in public, i wanna kiss you and hug you whenever i want to, fuck, i want a normal relationship”

oh. it was that. bakugou sighed, a bit relieved. he understood, it was hard on him too, but at the same time, was all both of you knew. your relationship never had a normal phase, he couldn’t even remember the last date you had. how could he miss something he never had? of course, you were different. for some reason, the media had always been harsher on you. if it wasn’t your love life, it was your hero costume, or the way you did your job, how you didn’t have children, that forever tired face you got, they’d always find a new thing to complain. but you had your own fanbase, a lot of people who supported you, not for nothing you were the number four hero. being honest, katsuki didn’t know what to say. he hated seeing you like that, after all those years.

“let’s go out” he talked while getting up from the couch, lifting you with him “put on something comfy, hurry” when he saw you staring blankly at him, he took you from your legs as a bag of potatos “dammit, woman”.

once you got out of your surprise, you did as you were told after your boyfriend left you on the bed. his eyes glowed with a different shine, one that had disappeared a long time ago.

you got in his car, him driving. katsuki seemed happy, and that eased your anxiety. after a while, he parked in the middle of town. despite of the hour, there was a lot of people there, just as he expected.

“we can’t do this” you said, still a bit doubtful.

“of course we can, i’m going out with my girlfriend, i’m going to hold her hand, and i’m going to kiss her whenever the fuck i want, because she’s the baddest bitch out there and doesn’t deserves to be hidden from anyone”.

he said that. your heart raced, your cheeks heated up, what was going on? your belly had a thousand butterflies trying to escape. he said that. for the first time in five years, you kissed him without double thinking. a kiss filled with loved, confidence, feelings you couldn’t even describe.

he got out of the car first and opened your door, reaching out a hand. you were together in this, whatever happened wouldn’t be as bad, because you had him. there wasn’t anything else you needed but bakugou katsuki.

he explained what he planned while driving, you were going to go to every store you wanted, holding hands, sharing kisses. you were going to take pictures and share them with the world. you wanted an ice cream? then both of you would walk the entire tokyo to get you one, not minding the looks, the whispering. this was you and him.

and you did, you spent the most awesome night together, phones exploding with calls of both of you agencies. it didn’t matter.

you ended in a viewpoint, sitting in the back of your car watching the sun rise. a blanket provided the warm lacking from you bodies, even though you were cuddling. every time bakugou was at peace with you, unconsciously started to sing under his breath, in a really low voice. feeling his chest under your skin, his fingers tangled in your head, hearing his deep melodic voice. that’s how you wanted to spend your life.

“marry me” he said, his heart didn’t even race its pace. he was so calm, because he knew that your love was mutual. “c'mon, dumbass, marry me”.

“i love you” was all that left your mouth. he took it as a yes, and he was right. a soft smile curved in his lips, you were his, and he was entirely yours.

[bamf-jaskier]

What the fuck are the Trials

Since the show is based on the books and not the games, and more people are more familiar with the games that the books, I thought it might be helpful to sort of officialize the posts I’ve done about specific topics in the books. 

Here are the previous posts on Triss&Geralt as well as Coën

TLDR: So looking at this process, according to the books the way a Witcher becomes, well a Witcher looks like this:

There is the Choice which is the decision to become a Witcher made when you are a child

Eat a lot of magic mushrooms that give you the strength and ability Witchers are known for

Then the Trial of the Grasses which is a concoction of mutagenic elixirs injected into the bloodstream which mutates you into a Witcher

Then finally there are the Changes. This is a big step and one that requires a mage. This is when the hormones are changed and a Witcher becomes permanently sterile

then there is training until you earn your medallion and BOOM, out onto the path with you

Now, have a post about what the trials are as far as the books are concerned

It’s important to note that in the books, The Witcher are a dying breed so the Trials are really only mentioned in Blood of Elves when Ciri trains with the Witchers and the two prequels, Sword of Destiny and The Last Wish. 

Let’s start out with the basics of the Trials, here is a passage from Blood of Elves where Triss is wondering why the Witchers at Kaer Morhen are being so secretive in regards to Ciri:

“It’s obvious. They want to mutate the child, subject her to the Trial of Grasses and Changes, but they don’t know how to do it. Vesemir was the only witcher left from the previous generation, and he was only a fencing instructor. The Laboratorium, hidden in the vaults of Kaer Morhen, with its dusty demi-johns of elixirs, the alembics, ovens and retorts… 

None of the witchers knew how to use them. The mutagenic elixirs had been concocted by some renegade wizard in the distant past and then perfected over the years by the wizard’s successors, who had, over the years, magically controlled the process of Changes to which children were subjected. And at a vital moment the chain had snapped. 

There was no more magical knowledge or power. The witchers had the herbs and Grasses, they had the Laboratorium. They knew the recipe. But they had no wizard.”

Later:

“And now they want to mutate the girl but can’t. And that might mean… They may ask me to help. And then I’ll see something no living wizard has seen, I’ll learn something no living wizard has learned. Their famous Grasses and herbs, the secret virus cultures, the renowned, mysterious recipes…”

Now, what Triss doesn’t realize is that Geralt and the others are not planning on subjecting Ciri to the trials at all but are instead trying to hide Ciri’s magical ability from Triss. They are worried she will report them to the Chapter. 

Of course, until they tell Triss this, she is deeply suspicious and goes on to talk about the mushrooms Witchers have access to which are extremely unique. 

“Of course, thought Triss. They’re feeding her those legendary cave saprophytes – a mountain plant unknown to science – giving her the famous infusions of their mysterious herbs to drink. The girl is developing quickly, is acquiring a witcher’s infernal fitness. Naturally, without the mutation, without the risk, without the hormonal upheaval. But the magician must not know this. It is to be kept a secret from the magician. They aren’t going to tell me anything; they aren’t going to show me anything.”

Later:

“I don’t give a fig for your trust, witchers. There’s cancer out there in the world, smallpox, tetanus and leukaemia, there are allergies, there’s cot death. And you’re keeping your “mushrooms”, which could perhaps be distilled and turned into life-saving medicines, hidden away from the world. You’re keeping them a secret even from me, and others to whom you declare your friendship, respect and trust. Even I’m forbidden to see not just the Laboratorium, but even the bloody mushrooms!”

Triss as a mage has extreme bias against the Trials and for good reason! Most of the populace doesn’t have access to any information on the Trials outside of vague ideas but Mages have access to first hand accounts such as this from Blood of Elves: 

“On the third day all the children died save one, a male barely ten. Hitherto agitated by a sudden madness, he fell all at once into deep stupor. His eyes took on a glassy gaze; incessantly with his hands did he clutch at clothing, or brandish them in the air as if desirous of catching a quill. His breathing grew loud and hoarse; sweat cold, clammy and malodorous appeared on his skin. Then was he once more given elixir through the vein and the seizure it did return. This time a nose-bleed did ensue, coughing turned to vomiting, after which the male weakened entirely and became inert.

For two days more did symptoms not subside. The child’s skin, hitherto drenched in sweat, grew dry and hot, the pulse ceased to be full and firm – albeit remaining of average strength, slow rather than fast. No more did he wake, nor did he scream.

Finally, came the seventh day. The male awoke and opened his eyes, and his eyes were as those of a viper…”

~Carla Demetia Crest, The Trial of Grasses and other secret Witcher practices, seen with my own eyes, manuscript exclusively accessible to the Chapter of Wizards

When most people think of the Trials, they are thinking similarly to Queen Calanthe in Sword of Destiny. 

Here is what Calanthe says to Geralt when talking about what he might do with his child surprise: 

“You are astonished,’ she stated. ‘Well, I’ve studied a little. Since Pavetta’s child has the chance of becoming a witcher, I went to great pains. My sources, Geralt, reveal nothing, however, regarding how many children in ten withstand the Trial of the Grasses. Would you like to satisfy my curiosity in this regard?’

‘O Queen,’ Geralt said, clearing his throat. ‘You certainly went to sufficient pains in your studies to know that the code and my oath forbid me from even uttering that name, much less discussing it.’

Calanthe stopped the swing abruptly by jabbing a heel into the ground. ‘Three, at most four in ten,’ she said, nodding her head in feigned pensiveness. 

‘A stringent selection, very stringent, I’d say, and at every stage. First the Choice and then the Trials. And then the Changes. How many youngsters ultimately receive medallions and silver swords? One in ten? One in twenty?”

Later Calanthe asks Geralt:

“Do you believe a Child of Destiny would pass through the Trials without danger?’

‘We believe such a child would not require the Trials.’

‘One question, Geralt. Quite a personal one. May I?’

He nodded.

‘There is no better way to pass on hereditary traits than the natural way, as we know. You went through the Trials and survived. So if you need a child with special qualities and endurance… Why don’t you find a woman who… I’m tactless, aren’t I? But I think I’ve guessed, haven’t I?’

‘As usual,’ he said, smiling sadly, ‘you are correct in your deductions, Calanthe. You guessed right, of course. What you’re suggesting is impossible for me.’

‘Forgive me,’ she said, and the smile vanished from her face. ‘Oh, well, it’s a human thing.’

‘It isn’t human.’

‘Ah… So, no witcher can—’

‘No, none. The Trial of the Grasses, Calanthe, is dreadful. And what is done to boys during the time of the Changes is even worse. And irreversible.”

Later:

“The risks are too great,’ Geralt said quickly. ‘As you said. At most, four out of ten survive.’

‘Dammit, is only the Trial of the Grasses hazardous? Do only potential witchers take risks? Life is full of hazards, selection also occurs in life, Geralt. Misfortune, sicknesses and wars also select. Defying destiny may be just as hazardous as succumbing to it. Geralt… I would give you the child. But… I’m afraid, too.’

Then in The Last Wish, Geralt describes his own experiences with The Trials:

“Kaer Morhen…That's where the likes of me were produced. It's not done anymore; no one lives in Kaer Morhen now. No one but Vesemir. Who's Vesemir? My father. Why are you so surprised? What's so strange about it? Everyone's got a father, and mine is Vesemir. And so what if he's not my real father? I didn't know him, or my mother. I don't even know if they're still alive, and I don't much care.

“Yes, Kaer Morhen. I underwent the usual mutation there, through the Trial of Grasses, and then hormones, herbs, viral infections. And then through them all again. And again, to the bitter end. Apparently, I took the changes unusually well; I was only ill briefly. I was considered to be an exceptionally resilient brat…and was chosen for more complicated experiments as a result. They were worse. Much worse. But, as you see, I survived. The only one to live out of all those chosen for further trials. My hair's been white ever since. Total loss of pigmentation. A side effect, as they say. A trifle.

“Then they taught me various things until the day when I left Kaer Morhen and took to the road. I’d earned my medallion, the Sign of the Wolf's School. I had two swords: silver and iron, and my conviction, enthusiasm, incentive and…faith. Faith that I was needed in a world full of monsters and beasts, to protect the innocent. As I left Kaer Morhen, I dreamed of meeting my first monster. I couldn't wait to stand eye to eye with him. And the moment arrived.”

So looking at this process, according to the books the way a Witcher becomes, well a Witcher looks like this:

There is the Choice which is the decision to become a Witcher made when you are a child

Eat a lot of magic mushrooms that give you the strength and ability Witchers are known for 

Then the Trial of the Grasses which is a concoction of mutagenic elixirs injected into the bloodstream which mutates you into a Witcher 

Then finally there are the Changes. This is a big step and one that requires a mage. This is when the hormones are changed and a Witcher becomes permanently sterile

then there is training until you earn your medallion and BOOM, out onto the path with you

This is why it’s such a big deal that Triss was brought to Kaer Morhen. Without a mage, someone cannot become a full Witcher and Triss believed that was why she was there. Of course, this wasn’t true but it’s a valid concern to have. 

One thing I want to note, there is absolutely NOTHING in the text that says that being a Witcher is limited to any sort of gender boundary. The fact that Triss so readily jumped to Ciri becoming a Witcher and the fact that Geralt didn’t specify  boys until he was talking about the sterilization process...well, there is a likelihood female Witchers actually existed. 

Again, in the books Witchers are a dying breed and you can literally count on one hand the number of Witchers we meet. Of course, considering mages are the ones who made Witchers, it makes sense that female Witchers are either strongly discouraged, banned or simply not talked about. 

One big point Triss has against Ciri’s training is that she won’t “develop” correctly like a woman “should” due to the mushrooms and harsh training and considering how so many northern mages place importance on beauty I could definitely see mages not wanting to have female Witchers, considering it a “perversion”. 

Just a fun thought I often have about the books that I haven’t seen anyone point out. 

So overall, here is what the books have to say about the Trials, it’s a touch different from the games but I find this very fascinating and interesting. Let me know if you want me to do a specific topic or relationship next, but for now, thanks for reading!

[jiubilant]

On average, once the numbers are tallied and the proper percentages derived, Birna’s shop sees about one and a half customers a day.

It is, apart from Dagur’s meadhouse, the most prosperous establishment in Winterhold.

“Enthir,” she says to the soft creak of the door, not looking up from polishing the counter—she knows her first customer of the day by the way he stamps his boots on her worn rug. Behind her, just south of the moldstain shaped like a bird, a leak in the ceiling drips snowmelt into a pail. “My supplier won’t be back until the thaw, but if you let me know what you’d like me to order in—”

Her customer, cold-flushed and unshaven, silences her with a frantic flick of the hand. He glances left and right. Then he nods and leans so far over the counter that Birna, adopting a look of polite interest, can count the sparse hairs on his chin.

“I need—I need a cauldron,” he murmurs, narrowing his eyes. “A silver cauldron. Now, listen, it has to be silver, because hydrofluoric acid eats through most other substances. And I need three pear flasks, and a box of twelve or so test tubes, and a hatchet—”

* * *

“D’you sell mice?” asks the second customer of the day.

Birna stares at him. “Mice.”

“Mice,” the mage-prentice agrees, giving her a pleading look. Like most of the students who come down from the College, his robes are rumpled, his eyes bloodshot, and his smile more panicked than polite. “Little skittery things. Long tails. You know. I need—as soon as possible, mind—a, a certain quantity of mice.”

Plick, goes the water in the pail. Plick. Plick. Plick.

“We don’t sell mice,” says Birna.

“Dammit,” the apprentice mumbles, tugging his braid. “Knew I should have gone to Enthir.”

* * *

“—and a filter flask, and a pair of round-bottomed titration flasks, and a retort, and two barrels of methylamine—are you writing this down? I think you ought to be writing this down—”

* * *

“I don’t buy stolen goods, Malur,” says Birna to her third customer of the day, her voice flat as trodden snow. “Give it back to Nelacar, grovel a little, and he might not fry you like a bit of buttered cod.”

“But you’d—you’d fetch a fine price for this staff, my chilly friend,” says Malur Seloth, smiling at her as a prisoner on the block might smile at the approaching headsman. “Look at the, uh, the fine carvings on the—”

“No, Malur.”

“Might make enough coin to fix your roof, selling this genuine—”

“Get out of my shop, Malur.”

* * *

“—and three greased pigs—”

“If I get you a tub of lard, Enthir, can you—do you think, maybe, that you could grease the pigs yourself?”

“Yes, yes, whatever. And I’d like one of those lozenges. And I hope you won’t object if I pay for everything else upon delivery, not before—”

* * *

Plick, goes the water in the pail. Plick. Plick.

Birna, who hasn’t seen a customer in four hours, slowly lifts her face from her hands.

The tall stool in the corner, the one that her brother had promised her he’d fix, still wobbles. Of course it still wobbles. She drags it out anyway, wedges a book under the short leg, and climbs up to scowl at the leak in the ceiling.

“Might make enough coin to fix your roof,” she mutters, twisting her face in an uncharitable, but not inaccurate, impression of the Jarl’s shiftless steward. “Ought to fix his roof. Enthir’s, too, the old—”

The door bursts open as if kicked by the wind, whirling snow upon the shoproom rug. Birna shrieks and grabs the nearest beam. The stool clatters to the floor.

“Good—good afternoon,” she calls with desperate cheer, dangling from the rafter. She feels for the stool with her toes, without success. “How can I—help—you?”

“Hullo,” gasps the same apprentice as before. Wild-eyed, his hair sticking out in all directions, he clutches the counter like a seaman clinging to the last storm-tossed plank of his ship. “D’you—please, d’you sell cats?”

* * *

Birna has sold a grand total of one lozenge by the time Nelacar sweeps in. Grandly.

“Birna, bright Birna,” he says with the usual pomp, put on to make her smile. “How burns thy star?”

“Dimly,” mumbles Birna, unsmiling. She rubs her temples—she can feel the coming headache in her teeth—and sinks down upon the stool. “Plummeting earthward. Nelacar,” she adds, staring at the town’s sole wizard, “what, uh—goes on—up at the College?”

“These days it’s moneylaundering, I imagine,” murmurs Nelacar, scanning the shelves. “Though I wouldn’t rule out piracy. Or ritual sacrifice. I don’t suppose you’ve got any staves?”

[goldencorecrunches]

WHO’S READY FOR MORE QUICK-BANGED-OUT MODREN WANGNINXIAN

(Part I) (Part II)

--

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying have the kind of love that epic poems are built on. The kind that boils seas and tumbles mountains, that could raise the dead or put whole nations under the ground. The kind that little girls sigh about, and old men speak of in memory, a twinkle in their eye, gnarled hands and age-smoothed wedding rings. They are not dating. Wen Ning is the person who most often has to break this news, as the one who is most frequently around them both. He has worked out a system: people that matter get a “no, they’re not together, really,” followed by a return of the inevitable incredulous look. People who don’t matter, or who Wen Ning doesn’t expect they’ll ever see again, get a “yes,” because it’s the closest Wen Ning can come to describing who they are to each other without the long-winded explanation. (Once, three shots in at a bar—so not sober, but not drunk enough to find it amusing—he snapped and told a particularly persistent busybody that they were in fact both dating him, and then had to go hide in the toilets until he could face his friends again. Wei Ying laughed so hard, when Wen Ning shamefacedly came clean, that he spilled his violently pink mixed drink all down his front and Wen Ning and Lan Zhan had to dab him down with cocktail napkins. Wen Ning made the mistake of meeting the busybody’s eyes again across the room and was granted the sight of their poor beer-sodden brain finally deciding not to ask for a threesome.)

Trying to convince Lan Zhan in the middle of a twee café that his deep, life-defining romance is reciprocated is beyond Wen Ning’s ability even when he isn’t dead on his feet from back-to-back shifts. They should talk more about it, he knows, but the relief that Lan Zhan doesn’t hate him is so heavy it steals all his will to do anything else but put his head down on his crossed arms and nap. And then Wei Ying swings back within grabbing distance, draping an arm over Lan Zhan’s shoulders and setting a plate of some kind of honey cake in front of Wen Ning, and the window for the discussion is lost.

It may be for the best (it’s not for the best. Wen Ning knows enough about relationships to know that, but dammit it’s so hard to do what the “How To Interact With People Like You’re Not An Anxious Mess, You Anxious Mess” books he has piled ten deep on his nightstand tell him). Wen Ning is consumed with the thought that Lan Zhan doesn’t regret kissing him. That Lan Zhan liked it. That Lan Zhan might—do it again. Oh, fuck. It might happen again. Wen Ning never made a plan for this possibility, mainly because he didn’t think it was one. “You’re stressing,” his sister tells him, flat and to the point as usual. Maybe some time, long ago, A-Jie entertained nonsense, but by now she’s been sucked dry of ten women’s worth of patience, and she does not, as she tells people frequently, have time for that shit. She scoots across the floor, rubber tires squeaking, and pokes a finger in Wen Ning’s face. “Stop it.” Renting an apartment actually built with a wheelchair user in mind was the first, and so far the biggest, change he and A-Jie had made when A-Jie graduated and got a job and went from pouring all her money into the medical establishment to having the medical establishment pour some back.  The counters are lower than what is comfortable for Wen Ning’s considerable vertical reach, so as the person who does most of the cooking he stacks up thrifted cutting boards to make a chopping surface that doesn’t hurt his back to bend over. It is indicative of their respective characters that he is the one holding the ten-inch knife and yet A-Jie is the one making him flinch. “I’m not,” Wen Ning says, halfhearted at best; A-Jie narrows her eyes and humphs, and Wen Ning sighs and scrapes the diced tomatoes into the frying pain waiting on the burner. They crack and pop as they hit the oil, spattering; Wen Ning is immune to the splash by now, and he is, besides, wearing long sleeves. “What if it get-t, if tonight is weird?” He says, focusing on the contrast between his hands and the dark green leaves of the leeks, the thunk-thunk-thunk of the knife. They’re sandy, near the base; he has been distracted, if he forgot to wash these properly. Turning on the sink gives him something to do other than keep talking and wind his thoughts deeper into their spiral. “Then it’ll be weird,” his sister says, dismissive. Wen Ning looks at her, fanning the leaves under the tap, exasperated; she softens and nudges the faucet over so Wen Ning doesn’t have to reach so far. “Listen. The three of you are weird enough together that if it is weird, it won’t be anything strange. Weird but not weird, you know? They wouldn’t have invited you if they didn’t want you to come.” “Wei Ying might.” A-Jie snorts. “Okay, true. But Lan Zhan would definitely not.” She has him there. “I guess,” Wen Ning says, though A-Jie has cheered him up at least a little. He dodges the wet hand she tries to whack him with, skittering out of reach against the stove. “Hey! I’m making you dinner! Ungrat-teful!” “Always,” Wen Qing sniffs, putting her nose in the air, and Wen Ning breaks down and smiles. --

 Like most things, A-Jie is right about this. There’s a moment of awkward shuffling when Lan Zhan answers the door, the two of them doing their best not to meet each other’s gazes; but once Wen Ning has taken his shoes off and collapsed onto the couch with a can of the terrible soda Wei Ying likes and Wen Ning has been conditioned into liking as well, it doesn’t feel abnormal. They’ve had fights before, of course: all said this is a lot less uncomfortable than the prickly-polite aftermath of those, and by the time Wei Ying bounds from his bedroom, chosen movie raised like a holy book overhead, he and Lan Zhan have assumed their usual movie-watching position and Wen Ning has been regaled with a bitingly hilarious story of the client Lan Zhan has who smacks her lips every third syllable and will not stop. (If Wen Ning has to work a little bit harder tonight not to stare at the movement of Lan Zhan’s own lips, the quiet flicker of his tongue—well. That’s nothing abnormal, either.) Wei Ying sticks the DVD in, humming a tune Wen Ning is fairly certain he’s invented himself, and plops his lanky body sideways across the two available laps. Wen Ning gets his head, tonight, and sticks his soda-cold fingers on the back of Wei Ying’s neck to make him squeal and thrash. Lan Zhan grabs his ankles to keep from getting kicked in the face and together they manhandle Wei Ying into a position where nobody’s elbows are in anybody’s crotches. Of course, Wei Ying is as incapable of remaining still as Wen Ning is of unassisted flight, but it’s the routine of it all that matters.They make it all the way to the first big fight scene before Wei Ying and his tiny bladder demand a break. He rolls to the floor instead of standing, narrowly avoiding clonking his head on the coffee table (he has, before—Wen Ning has seen it), and half-crawls to the bathroom shouting dire threats if either of them press play without him. Wen Ning has both hands over his mouth to hide his laughter. Ah; he hopes Wei Ying never changes. There’s a whisper from the cushions next to him, and Wen Ning looks over to see that Lan Zhan has gotten a lot closer. He startles, and then turns his laugh on himself, deprecating; it’s not the first time he and Lan Zhan have gravitated towards cuddling on movie night. “Do you wan—” he starts, raising his arm, and he has a moment to see a hard determined look cross over Lan Zhan’s face before he’s being kissed. Again. But, it is not the same. Immediately Lan Zhan’s mouth is insistent, pressing Wen Ning back into the embroidered throw pillows that Wen Ning is vaguely sure Lan Zhan’s older brother gave him upon move-in and have not been changed since. He’s warm, all of him; his hands, bracketing Wen Ning’s cheeks; his chest, hovering above the oversized buttons of Wen Ning’s sweater; his knees, parted on either side of Wen Ning’s thighs as Lan Zhan crawls into his lap. Holy shit, Wen Ning thinks, through a muddled haze, he’s in my lap, and then decides he’d better focus on the kissing thing. The kissing thing—oh, the kissing thing. Lan Zhan kisses like a hurricane, and it is all Wen Ning can do to keep up. He is panting before he realizes it, little puffs of air across Lan Zhan’s lips, and then Lan Zhan dips his tongue into the heat of Wen Ning’s mouth and a zip of electric current crackles all the way from the backs of his teeth to his dick. He makes a truly embarrassing little whimper. That seems, if it is possible, to spur Lan Zhan on further; he slides one wide palm around to the back of Wen Ning’s head and pulls at the strands, and Wen Ning’s mouth falls so far open Lan Zhan has to bite at it to get him to focus. Wen Ning fumbles to press between Lan Zhan’s shoulder blades, urging him closer, and has just discovered the soul-changing revelation of sucking on Lan Zhan’s upper lip when the sound of the toilet flushing echoes down the hall. Wen Ning jerks back so hard it makes an audible smacking sound, when they separate. He can feel that his face is burning. Lan Zhan is looking at him quizzically, head tilted; he is not making any attempt to remove himself from Wen Ning’s lap. “Aahh,” Wen Ning says, strangled. He swallows, and tries again. “Wh—aah, isn’t, here mayb- not?” “Maybe not for what?” Wei Ying’s voice says, sing-song. The bathroom door slams; Wen Ning winces. He can’t seem to make his fingers let go of Lan Zhan’s waist. “Were you two planning a murder without me? I told you the best place to store bodies is in…the….” Perhaps, Wen Ning thinks wildly in complete and utter silence, this is all a dream. If it is, he should wake up…now. Now. Now! “Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying says, in a broken-down-toy-wagon of a voice. “Wen Ning?”

[himbo-beel]

hmm could you do a headcanon (or whatever fits) where the mc manages to blow a hole through the house of lamentation (the cause could be literally anything) and the bros react? (if you do the side characters can you add them too? sorry if this is too much 👉👈🥺

It’s not too much! In fact, thank you sending this! I’ve never done headcannon requests before so I’m sorry if it’s a little short. 

--

THE BROTHERS REACT TO AN MC WHO BLOWS A HOLE THROUGH THE HOUSE OF LAMENTATION

Lucifer: 

Hear’s a bang and he’s already expecting to hang Mammon from the ceiling

Has everything ready, already has his name on the tip of his tongue as he comes marching down the hall

404 error Lucifer does not compute as he sees MC of all people standing in front of a giant hole in the wall

He’s standing there so very still, not even blinking, waiting for the migraine to start

He has so much work to do and now he has to fix a wall too??? He thought they were better than this 

“My study, 5 minutes, do not be late.”

Storms off because now he has to think of a punishment for MC. He’s used to punishing his brothers but MC? Pride and joy of Diavolo’s exchange program MC?? He’s never thought they’d cause a problem like this before. Congrats, you’ve managed to somehow impress the Avatar of Pride, but not in a good way.

You have to walk Cerberus now. Daily. Good luck. 

Mammon:

“Mammon made me do it”

“MC!”

It’s true though, Mammon made MC do it. But MC were the one that introduced Mammon to house flipping when he mentioned wanting to start another gig

He didn’t think MC would go along with it though!!!

Mammon is still impressed that you managed to knock almost all of the wall down in one go. 

So now there’s a hole outside of the common room but at least the view of the Devildom is nice

The breeze is...lovely...okay Lucifer isn’t having it. 

Mammon does end up taking the fall though because what else is he going to do when MC makes those big eyes at him? He has to protect them dammit and it’s not like this is the first, or last, time he’s going to be blamed for something

MC better make it up to him. Work an extra shift at Hell’s Kitchen and give him some cash and he’s quick to forgive them. Even quicker to come up with another remodeling scheme

Leviathan:

He wouldn’t open up his door and, frankly, the passwords to get him to were getting a little too long and a little too tiring. 

Bing bam boom and a little magic and WOOSH there goes the door whoops

Levi barely hears it over the game blasting in his headphones. Turns to find the source of the noise and this boy is losing it

He’s torn between being angry that MC’s blasted their way in and being downright panicked now that his safe space is open to the world. 

The game is forgotten, he’s in his demon form and curled up in the tub yelling about the light leeching in

MC hangs up a curtain while the door is getting fixed

The passwords remain very long and very tiring but they’re easier than spending a few days calming Levi down

Asmodeus:

Asmo said the water temperatures for demons were much higher than a human could tolerate and they wanted to see how high that could go

It was for, uh, science. And, for science, they turned the hot water knob as far as it would go. Too far.

The pipe burst and blew a hole through the bathroom. 

Normally Asmo would be very pleased to see a half naked MC but all this hot water and plaster just exploded all over and his hair is RUINED

At least they had some experience with calming Levi down - a panicked Asmo is difficult to cool down when there’s a million things that he needs to have perfected 

By the time the room is fixed MC’s become an expert at following Asmo’s skin and hair care routine because everything got moved to their room and he expects them to help him with it all. 

He might ‘forget’ one or two of MC’s favorite smelling lotions in their room when he finally brings it back

Satan:

He’s helping MC with their spellcasting homework

It’s protective spellcasting and it goes just about as well as every other spell MC has tried - as in, it goes horribly horribly wrong

Half the wall and all of the books stacking in front of it are now in bits and pieces. As is Satan’s sanity

Honestly, he should have seen this coming

Before MC can try to blast Satan away before his claws get to you Satan is smashing another hole in the wall in his anger at his books being destroyed. 

The first hole doesn’t seem like such a problem anymore. 

Better call someone to come calm him down before a third wall comes down. Or worse. 

Beelzebub:

It’s the middle of the night and MC knows Beel is coming down soon for his late night fridge binge

Lucifer has everyone on rotation for making sure he doesn’t clear out the kitchen and tonight’s their shift but MC has a plan: make something good enough for Beel to leave the fridge alone!

Through magic

They ready their spell over your cake and instead of getting one giant cake they made - get ready for it - a hole in the floor. 

“Solomon said this spell was supposed to make any cooking taste better”

Beel is so confused. Why are they asking Solomon of all people for help with cooking? Why is the floor missing?

He can’t make it to the fridge, though, so MC did...their...job?

But MC can’t make it back to the rest of the house now.

Someone will have to come get them in the morning

Belphegor:

Belphie was skipping classes and was so ready for the extra nap time

Didn’t think anyone else was home and snuggled down in all his blankets and pillows. Thought he was dreaming when the walls starting shaking 

It was suddenly....very cold

But he doesn’t investigate, he’s too comfy. Just wraps himself up tighter and goes to sleep

Wakes up hours later to yelling

MC busted a hole in the attic! Turns out some of the spell put on the stairs still lingered and was accidentally triggered when MC tried to climb up them. With all the pacts the magic went overboard and now some stairs are missing including a good part of the wall

Belphie couldn’t care less he’s comfy right where he is. As long as everyone shuts up soon, he doesn’t care what kind of punishment you get. 

Undatables:

Diavolo and Barbatos are both marveling at the amount of damage you managed to cause to the House of Lamentation. One human! So many holes! How very impressive! What else have you been hiding MC? Barbatos smiles at you oddly. He knows what MC is hiding.

Simeon prays for the brothers’ patience with you. He knows how hypocritical these demons can be. Offers to talk to Lucifer about lessening your punishment

Solomon helps you spackle the walls back together. Some of this is his fault after all. He suggests using magic to fix it faster. There are seven ‘NO’S’ shouted at him. 

Special Mention:

Luke bakes cakes for you when you get tired of all the hard work of repairing your messes. He thinks its about time some certain demons get a taste of their own medicine. 

[alfredosauce50]

Welcome to Wolfs Rock [Werewolf! America x reader]

Wordcount: 4, 913 Synopsis: It’s only the first day of your trip to Wolfs Rock, and Alfred is already getting on your nerves. You’re both eager to make things work, but the arrival of a handsome third-wheeler jeopardizes the efforts. Mathias Densen, the camp coordinator. Strangely enough, he ends up being a bigger help to your relationship than expected. When Alfred goes missing, he helps you find him. It’s a nightmare on your end, but it’s more of a mystical daydream to Alfred. The reader is referred to as she/her.

It all started on the camping trip in September.

Being not too cold and not too hot, it was meant to be the best month of the year to go and explore the wilderness. Alfred couldn't shut up about a resort inner state. He was always an outdoorsy person, and this place practically knocked his socks off.

Because rather than going old school and pitching up a tent, you were both staying in a picturesque wooden lodge.

He booked a spot overlooking a lake. Surrounding that was a thick forest of pine trees, making for the perfect hiking trail. You haven't even had a chance to admire the scenery yet, having been stuck being the bellboy, towing around his things.

Racing up the stairs to the porch, he spun around and gleamed at you. "Hurry up, already! I'm dying to see the inside of this lodge!" He exclaimed eagerly, turning back to slot the key into the door. "Man, this place already looks better than the pictures."

You hauled up both of your suitcases with a heavy huff. "You know you can go inside first, right? You've always been ahead of me." He shot you a funny look at what you said before taking your hand. The trip had barely started, and you were giving him attitude. Well, pre-attitude. But he wasn't having any of it.

"And you know I'd never go inside without you, babe. Now cheer up, okay? I'm sorry I dragged you around," Alfred sighed, catching a small smile stretch your lips. "That's my girl." The guy had a way with words, so you found yourself forgiving him faster than you wanted. That didn’t mean you couldn’t be mad during the moment, though.

The excitable goof kept running off and leaving you behind. With his things. His fishing gear.

"Ditch me again and I’m taking the car home, Al."

He laughed nervously. "Wouldn’t be the first time."

"That’s how you know I’m serious."

"So I'll chase you down the road. Works eventually," He added, catching a light glare from you. "And we won't be doing that today." He whispered. Taking your cheek in one hand, he leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to your mouth. It was slow and heated, as always. When you returned it, which was hard enough already, Alfred couldn’t help noticing how gentle you were being.

And he didn’t do well with gentle.

"It’s like you hate being around me sometimes," He mumbled over your lips. "What is your problem?" Your attitude transferred to him through the kiss, but he had another way of expressing it. He was leaning in for seconds, and you weren't too thrilled.

Before he could even graze his tongue on you, you clamped a hand over his mouth. "My problem is that you can't take me seriously," You murmured. He blinked, taken aback by your as-a-matter-of-factly tone. "So it’s just as much of a you problem." Releasing him at that, you made your way up the stairs with your things.

Alfred usually would've offered to take your stuff up for you, but it didn't look like you wanted the help.

"But whatever. I don't wanna fight with you."

He hung his head, feeling a hard frown work into his features. So much had changed since you first got together with him. You two weren't always going back and forth at each other. Disagreeing over anything and everything. The chemistry changed for the worse, but one thing remained constant.

He was still crazy about you. Whether you felt the same was a question that needed answering. Once Alfred got his things upstairs, he sat on the bed and watched you change. With his legs sprawled and hands behind his back, he kept a lazy, dazed stare on your form as you took your shirt off. This was the best part. Until he got caught, that is.

Spinning to him with your face flushed red, you tore him a new one. "What're you doing here? Get out!" His eyes widened as a prominent blush took over. Looks like he just made a huge mistake. So he stood up, moved away, and backed up slowly. "Are you dense? Go!" You gave him a strong shove back. He stopped abruptly by the stairs to keep his footing.

"Aye, ooh—" He threw his hands up defensively. "I’m sorry! I just thought you’d be okay with it."

"No, you peeping Tom! If you had your glasses on, you’d be at the bottom of the stairs by now." You finished, walking to the other side of the room.

Alfred covered his eyes. "So, do I go downstairs?"

He couldn’t understand why you were so mad, so maybe he was dense. It went without saying that he’d seen you in less, and none of those times ended with him getting pushed down the stairs.

"Just turn around. I need your help with sunscreen."

The two of you hiked around the mountains for the rest of the day. You only managed a few bad photos of chipmunks, but that didn’t matter when you took great ones with Alfred. He certainly talked enough to be one. By the time you returned to camp for dinner, you'd forgotten what you were so annoyed at him for. Maybe him getting hurt had something to do with it.

"Only kids trip over their own feet," You laughed, pushing him to the side to get him staggering all over again. "Some track star you are."

Alfred shot you a heated glare. "I'm not a kid. I just couldn't see the weird shrubs an' stuff!" He kicked at a stray pebble on the path, but missed it completely. "If you had eyesight as bad as me, you'd get it."

"Nobody could have eyesight as bad as you."

That comment alone got him chasing you around in circles. "Big deal, I got my glasses!" Being starved half to death and tired out of your mind, you let him catch you with ease. While he panted over your face, he pressed breathy kisses all over it. "My foot's getting worse and it's all your fault."

"Stop!" But he kept going, and you never pulled away. Instead, you returned the affection and wrapped your arms around his neck. While your lips met again and again, the only thing you could think about was this—it felt good to be on the same page as him again.

Getting him to sit down had never been so difficult. So you promised you'd get him a little bit of everything, and that did the trick. While you ran off in the cafeteria, you had your head turned to the guy, watching him beam at you with two thumbs up. What an idiot, you thought, but you weren't so much better yourself when you ran right into someone.

The collision was hard, almost as if you ran into a pole. When you glanced up at them, it became clear why—he was huge. "I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going," You apologized. Your uneasiness, however, melted away when you heard him laugh. When he fell quiet, his energy never left his toothy grin. Something about him reminded you of Alfred.

Blonde, blue eyes, and oozing with charisma. But rather than having his bangs swept to one side, his hair stuck up in all sorts of directions.

He hadn't even opened his mouth yet, and you could tell his personality was just as big as he was. "Don't worry about it! Didn't feel a thing," He piped, turning to the side to hand you a tray. "Here you go. Oh, and don't get the coleslaw. It tastes like soggy newspaper shavings."

"Thank y—" Before you could manage another word, the stranger pulled out a plate from nowhere and plopped a few potatoes on it. "—ou." He set the plate on your tray and gleamed at you.

"Try this. It’s the best thing in the cafeteria. I'd know cuz' I made it myself."

"Wow, um—" Your gaze traveled down to his dress shirt, and over his breast pocket was a name tag. That explained a lot. "—thanks, Mathias," He gave his name tag a playful tap as if to say, that's me. You gave a firm smile as you leaned down to take another tray. "You work here as one of the chefs?"

The man followed you down the aisle. "Eh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that. I'm the camp coordinator,"

"And they let you in the kitchen?" Mathias shrugged. "Huh. Sounds like fun." You mused, filling up two cups with ice-cold water.

"That's why I work here," He hummed, extending a hand to point at your trays. If the second one wasn't for you, then—"Is this your way of asking me out?"

Alfred suddenly felt a sharp pain shoot through his leg. "Agh. Stupid foot," Kicking it up onto a chair, he pulled up his pant leg and inspected it. His foot was cramping, and the bandages around his leg were loosening by the second. "Dammit. Some camping trip this is." While he tightened up the rings of white, he caught sight of two figures in his peripherals. One of them he recognized to be you, but the other was a complete stranger. "...?"

You were walking in his direction, and so was he.

"Making friends already, are we?" Alfred mused. You took a seat opposite him while the stranger slid a plate his way. He eyed his food for a moment before catching sight of the name tag. "Oh. Never mind," He would’ve left it at that if it weren’t for your newest pal pulling out a chair. "... Uh... Who’s this?" He tried to be friendly, but his face wasn’t having it.

"Just some dude I bumped into," You explained eagerly. Mathias beamed at Alfred, whose brows were raised in an unimpressed look. "Turns out he organizes everything here. And I was kinda hoping he’d help you with your bandages."

"Right," Alfred tensed up. Great, now he felt bad. The Dane leaned forward and set a first aid kit on the table, making the cutlery rattle. "Wait, wait, wait. You don’t have to do that! I’m totally good. See?" He pulled his pant leg up to reveal a sloppy job of patching himself up. "It’s drying up."

Mathias craned his head to the side. "I dunno about that, friend. You don’t wanna get an infection," He rolled his sleeves up and started rummaging through the trauma kit. And damn, was he ripped. "Alcohol is best for stuff like this."

Alfred wrinkled his nose. "Alcohol? But—agh, fuck!"

"Dude," You whispered-shouted, darting your eyes to the table beside. A couple of kids were staring and cackling at the man who just dropped an F-bomb.

"Fudge! Hey, can you chill with the rubbing?"

The act of kindness turned into something else. It used to be just you and him, but Mr. Camp Coordinator here decided he didn’t have a job to work anymore. Alfred even brought that up disguised as a harmless joke, but Mathias was too unassuming. "But I am doing my job! I’m making sure everybody’s having a good time. Trust me, you’ll have a better day with your leg all fixed up," He grinned, giving his back a few hard slaps to make his torso bounce.

"Yeah, okay, haha. Enough about the leg. I can’t even feel anything anymore," Alfred stared at him through his eyebrows. His reaction was more than enough to get you to slow your movements. What was his deal? Whatever it was, you figured that Mathias had overstayed his welcome. So you did what anybody would’ve done. You lied.

"So, Mat..." Mathias lit up while Alfred’s frown deepened. Mat? Really? "... Alfred and I were just gonna wrap up for the night. We were planning to get up early and go... Fishing,"

"Fishing? Awesome! You know, I’ll be around for the first info sesh. I’ll see you there!" The other chimed. While Alfred shot you an angry look, you shrugged in defeat. Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, Mathias got out of his chair and appeared behind you. There, he draped an arm over your shoulder. "So, what’s about that date? Yay or nay?"

Immediately after you gave him a no, Alfred pulled you out of the place. Needless to say, neither of you was joining Mathias for fishing in the morning.

"You said I was dense, but that’s what I call dense!" He hissed, pointing at the cafeteria accusingly. He gave his head a frustrated shake as he continued down the path. You followed after, feeling your chest tighten as he walked off without you. After a few suffocating seconds of silence, he marched back and pulled you into a tight hug. Thank God.

"I’m sorry. This is kinda my fault," He screwed his eyes shut while you squeezed him back. You were way past being upset at anybody, being drained in all manners someone could be drained. All you wanted was to curl up under the covers with him and forget what happened tonight. But fate had something else in store for you both.

"I need to cool off. I really want tonight to work," Alfred pulled away, showing you a small, albeit sweet smile that got you weak at the knees. Handing you the keys at that, he gave one final wave before disappearing into the dark in a brisk jog. "I'm gonna take a walk. A quick one. I'll be back before you know it! So, put on a movie or something!"

"Okay! Don't take too long!" You called back. "And watch the leg!" When you stood up straight again, you found yourself smiling in excitement. Aside from what went down earlier in the day, you were hopeful everything would pan out the way you wanted. He would’ve agreed if he heard you say it.

The walk back to your lodge was short. While you made your way back, you'd glance up at the night sky to watch nature's fireworks. The full moon was huge. There was something ethereal about its ghostly white glow, so it was too bad Alfred wasn't here to see it with you. Without warning, your train of thought was interrupted by a wolf’s howl.

"... Oh God." Letting him run off by himself didn't seem so good of an idea anymore. But you trusted him to be smart. So long as he stayed on the main street lit up by street lamps, the chances of him getting eaten were pretty low.

"Oh, cool! A secret trail!" Alfred mused. Diverging off the path he was on, he wandered into a darker area of the camp. It looked like a field they used to pitch up tents in. The edges were lined with tall pines, so he figured not to get any closer to them. "I guess this is where everything stops,"

He pulled out his phone to turn on the flashlight. The second he turned on the beam, he was met with a wolf sitting several yards away on the grass. Turning its head to the source of the light, it bared its fangs and let out a low growl. "Oh, shit—" He breathed, taking a few steps back. He needed to get the hell out of here before he had his face ripped off.

The animal began to rise, never tearing its reflective yellow eyes off the man before him. That was when Alfred entered panic mode.

While sweat ran down his temple like bullets, he stumbled out a few words. "Uh... Nice doggy?" The creature managed to stand, but not on all fours. Instead, it stood on two legs like a humanoid.

"Wait. What?"

It lunged forward and pounced on him, head-first.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up..." After several failed attempts at calling Alfred, you were really starting to freak out about the idea of finding his dead body somewhere in the woods. When he said he’d make it quick, you never thought it meant over an hour! That warranted an explanation over the phone, but he couldn’t do you the least of giving you that. So what did you do? You called for help.

"Yello? This is the camp coordinator of Wolfs Rock Camp. What may I assist you with that you need assisting with tonigh—"

"Mathias! Hey! Is this Mathias?" You spoke frantically, hearing a thoughtful hum from the other side.

"Yep, this is me. What can I help you with? Could you tell me your cabin number?"

"Alfred’s missing."

Two strong torch beams scanned around a spot on the wide asphalt road. Even after an hour of relentless searching, neither of you found any sign of him. You even returned to your lodge a few times, hoping to see him outside the door, waiting for you. But he never showed. Exhausted and worried sick, you collapsed onto a bench and hung your head.

Your companion took a seat next to you. "Here," Mathias held out a water bottle under your line of vision. "Clears up the mind. He’s gonna be okay, don’t worry."

Taking it with little hesitation, you downed a couple of generous gulps. "Thanks," You breathed, casting a wary gaze his way. "I don’t know, Mat. We disagree on a lot of things, but I think we’d both know that a few hours is way too long for a walk."

He shook his head with a sigh, then stared out into the distance. The street lamps were going out, one by one, indicating that it was well past ten. Once the last one went out, the whole campsite was plunged into darkness. To say it was eerie was an understatement. "This campsite has been around for longer than I have, and we’ve never had any missing person cases. Ever." Your frown deepened.

He rolled his head to you and showed an apologetic look. "I have to say that you guys are pretty unlucky."

"Very." You scoffed, returning the gesture with a tired smile of your own. "It doesn’t make sense how bad things can get. We’re either at each other’s throats, or something else messes things up for us. It’s almost as if... We’re not meant to be." Your expression saddened, capturing the strong ache in your chest.

Admitting a piece of reality never hurt more.

Mathias reflected that by making another compassionate face. "Hey, chin up. You guys are still together in the end, so I think that’s pretty amazing." He patted your shoulder encouragingly. "Count the lovers’ quarrels an’ stuff as a test. You guys must be crazy for each other to still be good, ya know?"

You lit up just a touch. "You really think so?"

"I know so," He stood up and offered a hand for you to take, and you did. "So, what do you say we save this boyfriend of yours? I know a few spots I haven’t checked yet. I have a good feeling he’d be there."

While he led you around, he’d turn around occasionally to check up on you. Are you okay? He’d ask. Wanna stop for a second? Running around with the guy was like riding the wind. Not only was he fast, but he was also strong enough to pull you around until you became weightless. It was one thing you missed about Alfred, and something you really liked about Mathias. "Alright. Let’s check around this area. If he’s not here, then we’ll have to get the police involved."

You nodded eagerly and ran off. "Thanks again for doing this. I couldn’t have asked for a better person for help." This field looked like an odd place to get lost in, but you had to leave no stone unturned.

He lifted a bush. "No worries! Just doing my job."

"And sorry about what happened at dinner. I didn’t mean to cause any misunderstandings." You continued, bending down to look under a deck.

"Nah, I’m way past that. People tell me I can’t read the room." Mathias called back, watching you walk off to another corner of the field. He turned around to keep looking. "But if things don’t work out with Alfred, I’m free on the weekend." You tripped over something on the ground, but it felt more like a someone than a something. He spun back around. "You know, if he turns out dead or someth—"

"Ahh!"

Mathias carried Alfred all the way back to your lodge. While the Dane cleaned and disinfected his wounds for the second time that night, you stuck around and asked how he was feeling. He’d given you the scare of a lifetime, laying on the ground like that. Not that disappearing for a few hours didn’t do it already. "Are you sure you’re okay? I was convinced I tripped over a dead body—" He gave you a floaty smile. "—I mean, you weren’t moving at all! Maybe we should call an ambulance or something."

"It’s fine, (F/N), I promise. I was just... Really tired," He explained, reaching out to nudge your face with his fingers. Alfred made a face as he laid on the couch. "That fight took a lot out of me, so I took a nap on the grass. But now that I’ve woken up, I feel... Better." His brows came together. "A lot better."

"Wait, you fought the wolf?"

"Well, I guess! He was even standing on two feet, so he had to use his arms to get me... It was like boxing a kangaroo, except not a kangaroo."

"Mathias, is it possible to get a concussion without hitting your head?" You turned to the said man, and he responded by inspecting Alfred’s head.

"Well, you technically could if someone shook you really hard," Mathias murmured, leaning over to examine his face this time. "But I doubt that happened. Maybe he had a nightmare,"

You breathed out a soft sigh. "That won’t happen again, at least. I’ll be sleeping with this idiot," Alfred closed his eyes and practically melted into the pillow. His smile was the biggest you’ve ever seen—you couldn’t bite back a small laugh when you caught it. "Okay, thunder thighs. If you’re so comfortable on the couch, I’ll let you sleep down here for the night."

He shot up and grabbed your hand, catching you completely off guard by his speed. "—?"

"No, I’m sleeping with you."

Your cheeks lit up as you averted his steely gaze. Mathias was still here. As if Mathias read your mind, his movements faltered while he worked with the bandages. He had a deep claw mark down his leg, but it was completely covered once he was finished. So as important as he was, he felt like he wasn’t supposed to be here. "..."

"I was just kidding, you dummy. Of course you are," Standing up from the couch at that, you gave him another look of concern. "I was really worried, you know. I’m never letting you run off by yourself ever again," Making your way around to his head, you leaned down and pecked his forehead. If you lingered your lips on him for any longer, you would’ve felt him heat up in a blush. This whole exchange wasn’t exactly private, after all.

"But if Mat says you’re gonna be okay, I’ll have to believe him." You walked off to the kitchen. "I’ll get you guys some water."

"Thanks! I’m parched!" Mathias glanced down at his patient, then shot him a wink. "Your girlfriend’s crazy about you, dude."

Alfred turned redder than a tomato. "What the hell, man? Just because she turned you down—"

"I’m serious! She couldn’t stop talking about you."

"Yeah, cuz’ I disappeared!"

"Trust me, friend. She’s more in love with you than you think." Mathias grinned. "You’ll see."

Alfred slept like a log that night. When he woke up, the first thing he did was go to the bathroom. After moving you carefully off his chest, he leaned over and put on his glasses. Was it just the morning rust, or was this thing super blurry? Seeing through the lenses made his vision worse than without them. "Huh." Setting them down on the bedside table, he decided he didn’t need them for now.

What he saw in the bathroom mirror, however, had him wondering if he needed his glasses after all.

His reflection showed him with a long, thick beard along with a head of messy, overgrown hair. A few seconds later, he let out the loudest scream.

Alfred’s eyes flew open, but he never stopped screaming. "Ahh!" When he quietened down, he quickly came to realize he was in the same spot as he was last night. The strange field where he met the strange wolfman. Was that all a dream? But that was beside the point. Something was on his legs. He assumed the worst as he scrambled up his feet, but he overreacted. Instead of an animal that was with him, it was a person. And it wasn’t just any person.

"(F/N)?!"

You rolled onto your back so you could better see him. "Alfred?!" You spluttered. The body you tripped over ended up being your boyfriend!

"Oh my God, Alfred!"

Jumping up so you could throw yourself on him, you wrapped your arms around his neck for a bone-crushing hug. "I was so worried! What the hell were you doing here? Why were you sleeping in a place like this? Was that why you never answered my calls?" While you examined his face frantically, he blinked furiously in shock. Only now did it hit him that everything in the last ten hours was a dream.

Getting carried back by Mathias, getting treated by Mathias, falling asleep, then waking up to a face full of hair. As he lingered on the fleeting memory, he grew distracted enough to lost his footing. Falling onto his ass with a grunt, he never managed to tell you off for it when you hugged him on his lap.

And there on his lap you remained.

He returned the embrace, making sure to pin your head down with his chin while he was at it. "Did you miss me?" He murmured, pressing a stretched out kiss to your cheek. It was a question easily answered by your tight hold on him.

How could he have ever doubted you?

"Your girlfriend’s crazy about you, dude!"

Whatever all that was about, he was slowly forgetting it already. The weird dream was vivid enough to give him the heebie-jeebies, but for some reason, he was glad he had it. But never mind that. What mattered was now, and having you forever. "I’m sorry I ran off."

You squeezed him desperately. It had only been a few hours, but it felt like forever since you’d seen him. "Nothing’s ever normal about you. You can’t even take a walk without getting a search party for you!"

Mathias jogged up to you both. "Looks like the gang’s all here! Good to have you back, dude."

Alfred let out a few breathy chuckles. Nothing was ever normal about you and him, was it? "Hey, let’s be nice. If you mean that as a compliment, I’ll take it," He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. You were back to kissing him, but the affection translated to something tenfold of what he gave you. It didn’t look like you gave a damn about an audience, so he had to stop you before you got too carried away. "Hey, woah—save some for the bedroom—Ow, ow, ow!"

After giving him a hard pinch on the cheek, you stood up to thank Mathias again. Pulling him in for a hug, he spun you around a few circles before setting you down on your feet. "Maybe next time, eskler." He hummed, giving your head a gentle pat. "If something like this happens again and he doesn’t make it, the date’s still on the table!"

Alfred stood up again. "Could you leave my girlfriend alone?!" He picked up a pebble and threw it right into his head. "I’m not going anywhere anytime soon!"

"Ouch!"

You broke out into a laughing fit when you watched Mathias stumble forward a few steps. When you quietened down, it was just you and Alfred standing in the field. "You really aren’t," You murmured, glancing up at the man with a tender gaze. "But I’m not either." He was already staring, and those love-laden eyes were something you could barely stomach. Because whenever he looked at you like this, you couldn’t resist him. "Let’s go back to the lodge."

Alfred took your hand in his. "You read my mind," He grinned. While the two of you walked off, he noticed that his leg wasn’t hurting anymore. Getting clawed there never happened, but that hiking incident did. It was strange how fast he’d recovered.

"Well, I’ll be damned," He whispered under his breath. The cherry on top was the feeling of you grasping at his arm, a sure-fire sign that you were more than content with him. And the thought got him smiling from ear to ear.

"Maybe we aren’t as unlucky as we thought."

Once the field was empty again, something appeared by one of the pines. A wolf with a beautiful coat of grey fur. It was nothing like the mangy creature Alfred encountered, but there was one feature they shared. When it opened its eyes, a pair of brilliant golden irises were revealed.

I hope you guys enjoyed this. Here's a great photo I found of Alfred: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/00/a9/ec/00a9ec9e3d5952038c89b1c9fda38158.jpgwith

[alphadaddyderek]

Not all math puns are awful, just sum (sterek fic, high school au)

ao3 link: click if you dare

summary: ’what is the probability that anyone will pass this fucking class? I’m thinking 1 in 100’

Stiles shakes his head because that was such a bad math joke that it was actually kinda funny. And, based on the expressions on people’s faces during class, also very true.

'i think there is statistical data to back up your theory’

AU where Stiles and Derek have to share a textbook and they write terrible math puns back and forth to each other.

Stiles sincerely, genuinely, regrets taking AP classes.

Well, kinda.

They would look great on his resume. Colleges wouldn’t even second guess accepting him and he would receive so many scholarships which would help his dad big time.

AP classes will also raise his GPA crazy high which, again, looks great to colleges.

Sometimes they just suck.

His AP Statistics class is definitely #1 on the ‘classes that suck straight ass list’.

It’s boring and it can be kinda hard. Plus it’s math so it’s automatically gross.

Stiles is good at math, but it’s not his forte, that’s more Lydia Martin’s thing.

Anyway, Beacon Hills High had to have some budget cuts this year, like, serious budget cuts. The sports teams are lucky that people care about people throwing balls all over the place, otherwise they would’ve gotten cut too.

Since the school has had budget cuts, the students don’t get individual textbooks anymore. Meaning, that they can only use it during class and then they have to leave it in the classroom for the next class to use.

So, yeah.

It’s the third week of junior year, AP Stat is as boring as always. He has Lydia to talk to sometimes but she has other friends in the same class, so he's not always entertained.

The teacher didn’t really care about whether or not students did the work, he just played chess on his computer the whole class anyway. He gave the page number that we were supposed to work on and that was that.

Stiles prefers that to lectures, but still. When he’s done the work there’s nothing left for him to do. He could go on his phone, but even that gets boring eventually.

What he’s trying to say is that he’s bored, okay?

Turning to the page that the teacher assigned, Stiles is shocked and wildly amused, to already see writing on the margins of the page. He figured it would take at least half the school year before people started vandalizing the textbooks. Although, it’s written in pencil so it’s easily erasable.

When Stiles actually reads what was written he snorts. Luckily, it’s loud in the class so the most attention he gets is when Lydia shoots him a weird look which he ignores.

'what is the probability that anyone will pass this fucking class? I’m thinking 1 in 100'

Stiles shakes his head because that was such a bad math joke that it was actually kinda funny. And, based on the expressions on people’s faces during class, also very true.

Should he write something back? Stiles doesn’t know if the person who wrote this is hoping for a response, or if they wrote in the book because they’re just as bored as Stiles is.

Eh, fuck it. Why not?

'i think there is statistical data to back up your theory’

Stiles snickers at his equally bad math joke before finally deciding to focus on the actual work. He didn’t want to be one of the ones who didn’t pass the class, because that would suck. So he does the work and for the remainder of the class he lets out a giggle or two every once in a while because even though he’s 16 years old, he apparently still has the sense of humor of a child.

π π π

It’s the next class and honestly, Stiles kind of forgot about the writing in the textbook. After he left that class he went to AP Geography where there was immediately a test, which he nailed by the way. Plus, with all his other classes, he just didn’t think it was important to remember a bad, but still funny, math joke in a textbook.

The teacher assigns them another page number full of questions to work on. And, just like last time, there’s writing in the margins.

‘i’m sorry, that was pretty mean of me to say’

That one has Stiles laughing out loud. Not too loud though, because he doesn’t have that much of a death wish. He just laughs loud enough to make Lydia send him another weird look, except this time Lydia questions him about it.

“What is so funny?” she asks, twirling her hair with her pencil.

Stiles shakes his head. “Nothing really. Just somebody writing lame math jokes on the book pages.”

“Well, you’re laughing at them. So doesn’t that make you lame as well?”

Stiles dramatically gasps.

“Wow, Lydia, that was pretty mean of you to say,” Stiles replies before bursting into more laughter.

At this point, Lydia is looking at him like he has brain damage but he really can’t bring himself to care. It’s hilarious and if she doesn’t think so then oh well. Her loss.

Well, she doesn’t know that that was the joke inside the textbook, but still, whatever.

It’s funny.

π π π

By this point, it’s kind of like Stiles and this unknown jokester are pen pals.

It’s been a week filled with terrible math jokes and Lydia probably losing more and more respect for him as the days pass.

He’s told Scott about his little pen pal and of course, Scott doesn’t really get it, but he’s supportive nonetheless.

It’s a Friday night and Scott is at Stiles’ house. They’re playing video games and eating so much pizza that Stiles will be bloated for an entire week.

Thankfully, his dad is on the night shift, otherwise, he would be heavily judgmental of Stiles’ life choices.

After several rounds of Mario Kart, they take a break to eat said pizza and talk a bit.

“So,” Scott takes a huge bite of his slice. “how are you and your math buddy doing?”

Stiles takes a bite of his own slice. “Why are you asking? Jealous?”

Scott laughs. “Oh yeah, I’m so jealous. Please, Stiles, make terrible math jokes with me.”

Stiles flips Scott off. “You only mock because you really are jealous.”

Scott rolls his eyes and then the topic is dropped.

At least for the next hour or so. Then after that, it gets brought back up.

“Do you think it’s weird to have a crush on someone you’ve never met?” Stiles asks, playing with a loose thread on his jeans.

Scott looks at Stiles, and Stiles does not want to see the weird look Scott has on his face so he continues looking down.

“You have a crush on this person?”

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. They’re funny, and obviously, they’re smart if they’re in AP Stat. I would like to meet this person though, maybe. I don’t know.”

Stiles feels his cheeks heating up.

Scott nudges Stiles with his elbow. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not weird at all. It’s kinda like online dating, but like medieval style.”

Stiles can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his throat. “What?”

It’s like medieval style! ‘Cause, it’s in a book. Instead of online.”

Scott is always able to make Stiles feel better, no matter the situation. His goofiness especially lightens his mood.

“Okay, Scott. Are we going to go jousting next?”

“I don’t know. What you guys do on your first date is none of my business,” Scott says with a sly smile.

Stiles snorts and grabs a pillow off the couch behind them and smacks Scott in the face with it, resulting in a pillow fight ensuing.

And if anybody asks, Scott did not win. He didn’t!

π π π

2 weeks after he and Scott had that talk, Stiles continues talking with his pen pal. Although, maybe Stiles is looking too deep into this, but it kind of seems like flirting now?

Hear him out.

In the margins, the person started adding smiley faces and winky faces after every message.

Ooh and they actually put their initials! D.H.

Stiles doesn’t think he knows anyone in school with those initials. Granted, Stiles isn’t exactly a social butterfly so he’s not doubting their existence at all.

AP Stat only has 5 minutes left in the class. Stiles has already embarrassed himself in front of Lydia more times than he can count, so he decides to ask Lydia if she knows someone with those initials.

She purses her lips. “Why do you ask?”

Stiles sighs inwardly before answering. “Uh, well. I was just...wondering. Ya know. Trying to expand my friend circle.”

Lydia raises an eyebrow. And Stiles sighs outwardly this time.

“Fine. You know the jokes that were in the book?”

“You mean from like a month ago?”

“Well...we’ve kinda been continuing to exchange jokes and notes and stuff. And then recently they put their initials. Or, at least I think it’s their initials. I don’t know what else it would be. So, yeah.”

Lydia looks at him for a moment before her lips curl up into a smile. “You mean you’ve finally found someone who has a worse sense of humor than you?”

Stiles returns the smile. “I’ll have you know, my sense of humor is advanced. Way too advanced even for you.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway, the only name that comes to mind is Derek Hale.”

Stiles chokes on his own spit. “Derek Hale? You mean the star of the basketball team? The guy with eyes that are like fifty different colors and bunny teeth that would look ridiculous on anyone else but he somehow looks gorgeous with them? That Derek Hale?”

“Yes. Other than that, I don’t know anyone else with those initials.”

“Does he take AP Stat?”

Lydia shrugs. Stiles takes that as a no.

There’s no way that Derek Hale is the one writing these notes. No way in hell. Stiles isn’t that lucky.

Plus, even if Derek is the one writing these, hypothetically speaking, Derek wouldn’t be interested in him. Don’t get Stiles wrong, he knows he’s a pretty attractive guy. But nobody in this school is as attractive as Derek Hale. Let's be real here.

Okay, maybe Danny. Danny is kinda gorgeous.

But besides Danny, nobody is even on the same level as Derek.

Well, Lydia is too.

Okay, dammit. People are on the same level as Derek Hale. The point is that Stiles isn’t.

Stiles sighs for what seems like the eighth time in. “Okay. Thanks.”

Lydia gives him a scrutinizing look before nodding and getting on her phone.

Stiles sits there and ponders why his life is like this before deciding that he must've done something to piss off fate in a past life. Pleased with his conclusion, Stiles shoves his notebook and pencils into his backpack just in time for the bell to ring.

π π π

Okay, so, Stiles must be going crazy.

When he saw that his pen pal had written his initials he figured, ‘hey, I might as well do the same. It’s only decent right?’ so he had, and ever since then Derek Hale has been shooting him looks in the hallway.

Maybe he’s hallucinating, because Derek Hale is, well, Derek Hale. Out of everyone in the hallway, why would he be looking at Stiles?

Also, Stiles can’t be the only person in the school with the initials S.S. although, he probably is the only S.S. that’s taking AP Stat so there’s that.

Stiles doesn’t know what to do, should he wave? Shoot him a smile?

Actually no, he should do neither of those things because if he does, and Derek actually wasn’t looking at him, that would be so unbelievably embarrassing. So embarrassing that Stiles would have to transfer schools immediately.

Stiles shakes his head and opens up his locker to gather his things for his next class. When he closes the locker Derek is standing right there like they’re in a horror movie and Stiles jumps so hard that he drops his notebook.

“Shit. Sorry,” Derek says and bends down to swipe Stiles’ notebook off the floor.

“No, it’s okay. You’re awfully quiet for an athlete.”

Stiles holds his hand out for his notebook but Derek doesn’t seem all that interested in returning it to him just yet. Derek looks at the front of his notebook.

“Hmm. AP Stat. Interesting.”

Stiles bites his lip and nods. “Yep,” he says popping the ‘p’. “it is interesting. Well, actually it’s not. AP Stat is yuck sometimes and it can get boring but it’ll look great on my resume so.”

Derek nods. He looks at Stiles for a few more seconds before he opens his mouth, and the second he does, Stiles’ stomach fills with butterflies.

“What is the probability that anyone will pass that fucking class? I’m thinking 1 in 100.”

Stiles bites his lip to stifle his smile. He doesn’t want to cheese like an idiot in front of Derek Hale but he thinks that ship has already sailed cause Derek’s lips stretch into a big smile.

Stiles clears his throat. “I think there is statistical data to back up your theory.”

“Oh, is there?” Derek asks, smile turning into a smirk.

Stiles nods then looks at his notebook that is still in Derek’s hand. “Can I have my notebook now? I’m not sure what exactly you’re plotting but I don’t like it.”

Derek scrunches his face up. “Wow, that was bad.”

Stiles’ mouth gapes. “Like yours were any better.”

Derek shrugs, smile returning to his face. “I thought my mean joke was pretty hilarious.”

“Yeah, hilariously bad. I didn’t laugh at all, not one bit.”

Derek looks like he doesn’t believe a word Stiles just said, which is fair, he shouldn’t.

“So,” Derek begins, eyes boring into Stiles’— seriously, what is up with Derek’s eyes? — “what is the probability that you will give me your number?”

Stiles pretends to think about it for a second. “I'm thinking 100 in 100.”

[pinkhairedlily]

Chapter 9 - Student Council President Sakura

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Sasuke wondered for the umpteenth time since three in the morning why he agreed to go with the baseball team for their summer camp and wondered more why the student council had to do its orientation and team building event at the same time. He supposed it was to cut down on expenses, but both trips could have gone on without his presence.

Well, it turned out his shoulders were needed as pseudo pillows for the sleepyheads duo. On one side, he can feel the wetness of Naruto’s drool dripping every minute onto his linen shirt, and on the other, Sakura’s vanilla shampoo was arresting his senses. Five hours after a rough roadtrip, the two awake beside a very grumpy Uchiha.

“I demand a barbecue treat from both of you,” he huffed as they disembarked in front of the groups’ joint headquarters.

His mood soured when Kakashi emerged from the next bus, serving as one of the stand-in guardians for the activities, followed by Hyuuga Hinata. She gave Sasuke a stern nod when their eyes met, and he briefly recounted their interaction while waiting for the rest of the participants.

“Good morning, Ms. Hyuuga,” Kakashi greeted. He waved for her to come closer, and he introduced her to the students. “If you’re not aware, the Sports Council has rolled out funding to under-resourced teams across the state to be particularly used for summer trainings. We’re lucky we’re one of those teams. Joining us as an observer is Mr. Hiashi’s daughter herself, Ms. Hinata, who also happens to study in the same district.”

She generously bowed to everyone with a tight-lipped smile. Later, she assumed a position beside Sasuke.

“If it makes you feel better, I did not orchestrate this,” Hinata said. “And if there’s anything you should now, both sides of that relationship have been hurt, with reasons far from what you’re thinking.” She stopped for a whole minute and breathed in, struggling to keep the tears at bay. “So please, leave me alone.”

Yeah, he was a bit of a jerk to her, Sasuke knew that. But he also knew that Hinata had already developed an affection for the blonde idiot, regardless of her denial. As much as he wouldn’t want to complicate things, he thought it best for now to allow the situation to play out. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t here to entangle himself in someone else’s business.

They settled in the mess hall cum dining area for a quick breakfast and breakdown of house rules. He still needed to get used to the fact that this was Sakura’s last time to be a head organizer for a school activity. She will pass on her reins to the incumbent secretary by the start of the next term. Both him and Naruto knew the extent of her sadness in letting this position go, and even more so the need to look out for her the instance she does her confession.

Yet she hasn’t. So they became unwilling witnesses to this awkward tiptoeing with awareness literally skewed to only one side of the party, and Kakashi showering in ignorance bliss.

They went about their room assignments, and Sasuke, with all his luck in the universe, was stuck with Kakashi and Naruto.

“I won’t ask if it’s possible to trade rooms, but would you care to explain why you don’t have a solo room of your own?” he annoyingly asked the silver-haired man who was nose deep at the moment in a coverless book.

“I’m your guardian, Uchiha,” Kakashi replied while yawning. “I’m gonna go sleep so why don’t you frolick in the ocean with your friends while it’s still your free time?”

Unwilling to spend his time with a man who annoyed him so much for no reason at all, Sasuke trudged off his designated room and followed the many footsteps on the sand. The untrimmed hedges eventually give way to the expanse of the gray ocean, its waves roaring from afar, building up like shifting towers, cresting, and breaking into foam by the time they reach the shore.

Naruto was already neck deep in the waters with the rest of his team, the new captain certainly setting a good camaraderie example. Sakura caught his entrance and waved him over despite the new council members intensely blushing at the sight of him.

“Sasuke!” He heard her call.

But every step he took on the soft sand was like a laboring walk on a cesspool of blood, his parents’ blood.

“The turtle is faster than you, you slowpoke!” Sakura continued her incessant teasing.

Trust me, I’m trying to get to you, he thought. Screams broke out just then.

And he felt like he was being whirled away into the barrel of his repressed memories. He started seeing everything in slow motion.

Naruto shouting cramp cramp cramp, an idiot move that got seawater into his nose, and ultimately made him lose his balance. Quick on her feet, Sakura swam into his vicinity with sure, measured strokes of an experienced swimmer. He heard her scream calm down you blonde idiot! and his teammates were able to usher him out of her hold and onto dry land.

But she didn’t manage to follow safely. She was swimming, but her direction kept on going farther away from the shore. She was caught in a riptide. The screams changed from Naruto’s name to her, the intensity and volume of voices getting stronger with every second.

“Sakura!”

“Miss Pres! Someone! Help!”

“Help please!”

Save her, a voice said in his head. “I can’t.”

Her pink hair looked like a blob riding untethered on the arms of the waves. Yet he was rooted to his spot, his memory spilling over like blank ink. Suddenly he can smell the gasoline in the air and the waves lose their sound, replaced by the gasps and shaky breaths of his parents, and the ticking time bomb of an explosion.

He started to hyperventilate as his sight closed in on him. “Sakura, I’m sorry.”

Fast and light footfalls passed by his side, breaking him out of his reverie, and Sasuke’s eyes opened to a coverless book on the sand, its pages fluttering in the wind.

A silver-haired man dove into the surface with no hesitation, briefly disappearing, and emerging again in a few seconds with an unconscious Sakura safe in his arms. Only then did Sasuke run in haste.

“Give us space!” Kakashi yelled with a sliver of anger and panic in his normally laidback voice.

Sasuke would have to content himself seeing the next events play out in between warm bodies, his heart drowning the waves when he realized she wasn’t breathing and Kakashi had to start chest compressions.

Seconds worth of chances and he stood there waiting again.

She still wasn’t responding.

“Come on, Sakura, breathe,” Kakashi pleaded through gritted teeth. When he counted down to thirty, he leaned down and gave her two rescue breaths.

Still no response.

“Dammit Sakura. Don’t die now.”

Another set of thirty compressions. By the fifteenth try, some council members have broken down and started crying.

“Fuck.” Kakashi did another pair of rescue breaths. Then she vomited water.

“Clear the way!”

A group of paramedics came thanks to Hinata’s calm thinking and took the disoriented pinkette from Kakashi’s hold. Sasuke’s eyes trailed after them, her long pink locks swaying in the wind, and landing on Hinata’s fixated gaze on him, like she knew something he didn’t. Or since then has denied.

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

Sakura refused Kakashi’s instruction to go home. It was a close call, but she needed to see through a good transition in the student council, and a productive summer training camp for the baseball team.

“I’ll inform your parents then,” Kakashi said with a steely anger in his voice she was unfamiliar with. At whom it was directed she’ll never know.

“Ah, no need, I already called them,” she lied through gritted teeth. He responded with a brow raise but let it go for now.

“Get some rest, Ms. Pres.”

She did just that, holed up in a room for two days with minimal interaction save for her roommate Hinata who basically sidestepped around her in silence.

“How’s everyone?” Sakura asked her on the third day when she was about to scamper off to her observation duty.

“Your boys wanted to see you,” Hinata said. Sakura wondered if there was a tinge of jealousy in that but she saw the Hyuuga daughter as someone who already has all the good things in life. “But I refused entry since Naruto can be quite noisy and Sasuke is easily riled up nowadays.” Including sensitivity for others.

Hinata continued after giving her a plate of peaches and cranberry juice. “Your student council is still devastated, but they changed up their agenda to include a quick first aid training from a virtual trainer. Baseball team is doing quite well, far better than what I first expected….notwithstanding Haru’s absence.”

She noticed the visible change in Hinata’s expression after she uttered his name. “And how are you?”

The beautiful raven-haired looked at her with eyes brimming in tears. Poor girl never had someone to unload her broken heart to.

“I miss him Sakura.”

Sakura bites down on a slice of peach and taps her finger on one of Hinata’s clutched fist. “Do you still talk?”

Hinata shook her head, her fists clutching then unclasping each other in between pauses. “He was the one who ended the whole thing. Called me up for a date and we went to my favorite café, ordered me my favorite drink, and broke the news that he wanted to break up. He wasn’t angry when he said it, he was weary of everything, and I was hurt more by that fact. After I came home, I learned that he blocked me in all his social media accounts.” She took one slice of peach and stuffed it in her mouth, regardless of the tears that streaked her unmarred face. “I wanted to introduce him to Father, you know. Just until after I graduated so I could at least move away first. If he felt so suffocated by my family, how much more it was for me?”

Sakura puckered her lips with a tint of cranberry juice. “I think you’re both cowards.”

Hinata, who probably expected an empathetic response from Sakura, moved her hand away from Sakura and covered her mouth in surprise.

“It’s true,” the pinkette reasoned out. “Haru is a jerk for leaving all the work to you. He knows of your family so he should have stood up for you if he loved you. But you’re at fault too, Hina, because you know you could have introduced him earlier and faced your father’s wrath together. This gives me Romeo and Juliet vibes.”

“They both die in that story, Sakura.”

“Then West Side Story?” Sakura retrieved Hinata’s hand and put her hand over it. “I’m just saying I hope you find someone willing to take on that risk for you but also allowing you to have your agency to choose and act.”

Hinata doesn’t back away from Sakura’s touch. “You’ve always known what to say since we were in junior high.”

“Well of course! It’s because you and Haru are my friends!” She elbowed Hinata jokingly. “So Naruto?”

Blush bloomed on Hinata’s cheeks with a color far too intense to cover up. “Naruto? What about him?”

“It’s because of his strong people charm, isn’t it?” Sakura smiled, no longer looking at Hinata. “And if Haru had that personality, maybe it wouldn’t be difficult for your father to accept him.”

She was greeted with silence which told her that this was the truth, this was the reason why Hinata craved for his sunshine energy, and the reason why she had always wanted to orbit around him.

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

Despite the life-threatening incident that marked the beginning of their excursion, the remaining days have fallen into some sort of normalcy and mundanity. Sasuke, more than he would like to admit, found himself spending more time with the mathematics teacher who was on his second coverless book.

“What’s your bet?” Kakashi asked out of the blue. Prior to this, they shared the silence punctuated with cicadas and the occasional crackling of wood in the campfire.

“Erotica,” Sasuke replied nonchalantly, seated across him on a foldable steel chair.

The teacher almost choked on his water. “What if I tell you it’s a classic lit?”

“A classic erotica literature,” Sasuke insisted. “Because if it is as safe as you said it, you’d leave the cover on because bookworms are snobbish like that.”

Kakashi chuckled. “What a brat. It’s a good thing I’m not a snitch for the school board.”

“You’re just implying they don’t pay you enough.”

“You’re really a brat.”

Again, the silence engulfed them, not much different from the night that lulled everyone to sleep. Sasuke kept his hands inside the pockets of his thin jacket, moving away from Kakashi to return to their room. He debated about this with himself for the last two days, wondering if it would be worth it. “You seem like a good guy despite your reading preferences.”

“Excuse me?” Kakashi’s voice was laced with offence.

“Thanks for saving Sakura.” He realized he was too young, too unreliable, like the kid he was once before. It was just he never grew up.

And the week was done, and time was in constant shift. The reshuffling in classes left him alone, but never that much, not when two extroverts came checking on him at every break. The spot behind the library was still their hidden spot, the dragonboat team was still their background music, and the countless scenes on the side of the lake were still their guilty pleasures of what-ifs.

Maybe every last year of every phase in life ended up going so fast. Like how the baseball team sped through the preliminaries to the nationals in one relentless drive. And yet again, he found himself going back to the same café with his favorite cashier who colored her hair pink.

“You like my new hair?” Sakura teased. “Okay hit me, I’m on a 15-minute break.”

“Stop eating my tomato basil salad first.” Sasuke flicked off her encroaching fingers on his bowl. “The team needs funds. In the board’s defense, they prepared for jersey uniforms, travel assistance, and board and lodging.”

“Up until the semis,” Sakura clarified.

“Unfortunately. What’s the council gonna do?”

“I’m not the president anymore, remember?”

Sasuke sipped his cold americano, looking pointedly at Sakura, who deflected his gaze. He tapped the surface of the table, knowing all too well that she will spill something any second now.

“The council is gonna do a fundraising event,” she finally relented.

“Please don’t tell me it’s another pass-the-hat.”

She shook her head, but if she was at all excited, she didn’t show it. “They’re gonna invite student musicians and do a showcase in the mall park.” She shrugged. “Not my idea and not my place to meddle.”

“You know it’ll be a failure, right?” Sasuke asked. “The crowd and the weekend traffic won’t be worth the effort.”

She sighed in agreement. “Well, Kakashi-sensei greenlighted it. They must have a trump card.”

Sasuke was right for the most part. No one paid them attention, not the crying kids, not the parents rushing for the flash market sales, not the aunties catching up with the newest town gossip. The music club was already halfway down to the set, and Sakura was keeping her head low and hidden in her beret in secondhand embarrassment.

“Please tell me it gets better,” Sasuke almost pleaded

She eyed him from head to toe with a smirk. “We could auction you if you want. Girlies at nine o’clock want your number.”

He rolled his onyx orbs but flushed at her insinuation that he was worth looking at today. It wasn’t his expertise to dress up nor did it come to him to actually buy new clothes in the last three years. He just put on an oversized graphic t-shirt over a pair of jeans and called it a day, and Sakura stood there beside him in her 90s fashion silk blouse tucked into black pants with a leather belt, very much unaware of how she stole attention.

“Let’s leave?” he suggested.

Sasuke lost sight of the crowd when she looped her arm in his as they walked away to the first notes of Flightless Bird, American Mouth. It was sudden, probably on impulse, and not much to Sakura’s thoughts, and maybe those were the reasons why he didn’t pull away from the electricity of her touch.

And maybe he should have walked quicker so she wouldn’t have looked back and seen Kakashi on the piano chair, stroking the keys like that of a lover, and his voice crooning everyone to join his atmosphere.

So while she stood there beside him, all dolled up and beautiful from head to toe, with her arm linked with his in the middle of a gathering crowd, she wasn’t entirely his, her heart not swaying in time with his pulse, but beating instead to the pluck of his chords.

Ah so I really was in love with her. A realization too late and another missed chance to offer her his saving grace.

Two songs later and a beaming Kakashi taking pictures with the audience, Sakura finally unlinked her arm from Sasuke’s, and they walked out of the mall under the threat of impending downpour. With hurried steps and foregone conversations, they managed to reach the shelter of a small shed along the bridge connecting the mall to the train station just before the rain ensued.

“Ah I forgot to bring an umbrella. Funny since it was scorching hot earlier.” She put out her fingers outside the cover of the shed, making contact with the drops. “Like it was sudden and inevitable.”

Sasuke kept mum about the umbrella inside his crossbody bag, wanting instead to drown in the rain with her.

“I wish it was that sudden and inevitable too – falling out of love,” she said as she took her wet hand inside for cover. “Because I’m running out of excuses to not fall further more.”

“You haven’t confessed yet,” Sasuke reminded her. “And we all know how that ends in this setup. You can never be together Sakura.”

“I know.” He heard her choke back a sob.

“I wish I could, Sasuke. But my eyes see him and then my mind plays back a dozen frames of him every second. I really wish I could do just that – fall out of love.”

She gave in to her emotions and cried with abandoned resentment and yet he saw her with rose tinted lenses – still beautiful in the woes of a first love heartbreak. His body started to move on its own, his arms hovering around her, an unspoken question of permission to touch her safe space, and she leaned into his embrace, an equally unspoken consent to envelop her in comfort.

They must have been lovers in the eyes of those under the passing umbrellas. His hug tightened at best, absorbing every convulsion in her small frame like it was his sole function.

“Would you like to use me, Sakura?” he whispered like a prayer he uttered under his breath for the rain to continue and give him a little more seconds, a bit more minutes, an illusion of stranded time with her in his arms.

Pools of emerald looked back at him stricken with fear. “It’s not fair. To you. To me.”

His ember irises held steady. “I don’t mind.”

“I do mind.” She cupped his face, soft yet calloused palms that tether him to this reality. “I do mind so I will not let my broken heart steal your chance at first love.”

But the rain has stopped as sudden as it started and she was out of his hold, running for her dear life out of the cover of the shed, through the bridge and into a train line he couldn’t follow.

But you’re my first love.

AO3 LINK | NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER 10

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Gif credit @rainbow-motors

Dean Winchester x Reader 

Words: 1518

Summary: Alone on a hunt for the holidays, 19-year-old Dean calls up his childhood friend. 

Notes: I’ve been obsessed with Young Jensen content and I found this gif (Thanks to the creator!) and I really wanted to write something for a younger Dean. Call me lazy, but I didn’t want to include the hunt itself in this one. I thought writing the moments before and after would be cute, so enjoy! (Bit of a mess, but I hope you like it)

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

-

“Hey Sammy, it’s me,” Dean started the voicemail grimly. It was the third one he’d left for his younger brother, “I know you’re not happy with me and that’s why you won’t take my calls, but dammit man, I’ll be back as soon as I can. It’s just another hunt Sam. I’ll be back before you can say Hanukkah.” He thought for a moment before finishing. “Merry Christmas, Sammy.” 

He ended the message and tossed his phone on the motel bed with a huff. He knew Sam was pissed about him going on a hunt alone, especially over Christmas, but he didn’t think the silent treatment was going to last this long. Dad gave him an order and he wasn’t going to let him down. 

Dean sat down in front of a pile of books and sighed. He hated the research parts of hunts. He just wanted to kill the son-of-a-bitch. Unfortunately, he wasn’t totally sure what this particular son-of-a-bitch was. Over the course of seven years, 15 kids have gone missing right around Christmas time. No notes, no bodies, nothing. If his dad had any theories, he certainly hadn’t shared them. So research time it was. 

About three hours and two illegally obtained beers later, he had a couple of theories ready. It didn’t seem like a spirit or vampires, and without heartless bodies, it wasn’t a werewolf. Since the disappearances always happened around the holidays, he figured that the creature might have Pagan roots. Either that, or it could be a Grinch of a witch somewhere. Whatever it was, it was sure putting a dent in his holiday. 

Maybe that’s why he dialed the number. Sure, his dad told him he needed to do this on his own, but if it really was some Pagan entity, he wasn’t really sure he could take it on by himself- not that he would ever tell his father that. As far as his dad was concerned, Dean could handle anything that the dark world threw at him. But right now, looking at the Christmas lights through the frosty motel window, he wanted a friend. 

“Jack Frost, can’t say I was expecting a call from you.” Your amused voice made Dean smile. You had the phone wedged between your shoulder and your ear as you painted your toenails Christmas Tree green. Just because you were a badass hunter didn’t mean you couldn’t be festive. 

“Hey Y/N,” Dean chuckled, pushing away from the book covered table and cracking open another beer, “how’ve things been on your side of the Midwest?” 

“Oh, you know, vengeful spirit here, vampire there, nothing too exciting.” You twisted the top back on the polish and hopped off the bathroom counter, being careful when you walked so you didn’t get any polish on the carpet. “Mom’s been off with the twins, trying to give them a little bit of a normal Christmas up in Oregon.” 

“Why aren’t you with them?” Dean wondered. Your family wasn’t like his family. You and your mom somehow made it work. You weren’t usually separated, at least not for long. 

“I had a hunch that someone else was going to be needing me this year.” Dean let out a long, frustrated groan.

“Sam called you, didn’t he?” 

“Sammy boy was worried that you’d have a lonely Christmas so he asked me to hang around in case you needed some help.” You shrugged.

“Hang around? What do you mean hang around?” 

“Come to room 114 and find out Dean-o.” With a smirk, you hung up and waited at the foot of your bed, flipping through channels on the television. You settled on a channel that was playing The Year Without a Santa Claus. 

When you heard the knock on the door you walked on your heels to open it. Dean gave you an annoyed glare, but you could tell he was happy to see you. He barreled passed you, nearly knocking you off balance. 

“Watch the feet!” You whined, pointing at your newly painted toes. Dean rolled his eyes. 

“You painted your toenails?” He scoffed. “What are you? 13?” 

“Don’t be a Scrooge, they look nice.” You had long been able to handle Dean’s snarkiness. 

Your mother had run into John Winchester back in 1990 on a spirit case. Dean was 11, you were 10 and Sam and the twins were about 7. While your parents took down the ghost, you and Dean had to babysit. While he was obnoxious at first, the two of you got along pretty well. You bonded over being the oldest siblings, constantly having to look out for your kid brothers, worrying whether or not your parents would come home, remembering the parent that you’d lost, for Dean, it was his mother to a demon, for you it was your dad to a werewolf. 

After that, John and your mom would sometimes meet up if only to have you and Dean look after the younger kids. You even ended up going to the same high school for a while. Dean was probably the closest thing you had in your monster-hunting world to a best friend. And you, not that he would ever say it, were the closest thing he’d ever had to a crush. 

“I think I may have a lead on what we’re looking for here.” You informed, tossing him your journal. Astonished, Dean scanned the page. 

“How did you-”

“I’ve been researching gods in my free time.” 

“You are such a nerd.” Dean scoffed, taking a closer look at something you wrote. 

“Yeah well this nerd has saved your ass more than a fair share so shut it, Winchester.” You smirked, snatching back your journal. “Based on the case files of the missing kids, I have an idea of who we might be dealing with. Gryla is from Icelandic folklore and she, uh, eats naughty children.” 

“And here I complained about the coal.” Dean grimaced. 

“If we don’t figure out where she is, these kids become Christmas dinner.” While you dove into more research, Dean looked over your shoulder at the TV. 

“Are those puppets?” 

You scrambled to turn off the TV, but Dean stole the remote. 

“It’s a Christmas classic.” You reasoned, feeling yourself turn red. “I watched it with the twins all the time when we were kids.” 

“I think it’s adorable.” He leaned ever so closer to you without realizing it. Like a magnet pulling you together, you found yourself inching closer and closer until-

“Are we going to hunt this thing or not?” You suddenly exclaimed, backing away quickly. He was just kidding around. Dean was always pretty flirty. It was just part of your friendship. He didn’t feel that way about you- the way you felt about him. 

-

You burst through your motel room door, half carrying Dean in with you. In a panicked rush, you sat him down on the bed and scrambled to find your first aid kit. 

“At least we beat the damn thing, right?” Dean smirked before wincing at the pain. His wound wasn’t life threatening, but it sure hurt like a bitch. 

“This is going to hurt.” You warned, turning on the radio to drown out any pained sounds that Dean made. As you cleaned the wound, his eyes were locked on you. You tried not to notice. It was the pain that was making him look at you like that. You covered the wound with a bandage and put a fair distance between the two of you. You hoped he couldn’t see how much you were shaking. 

“Everything okay?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah, yeah everything’s fine, Dean.” You lied, laughing nervously. “I just got kinda freaked out when I saw her attack you.” 

“You sure that’s all that’s bothering you?”

“I thought you were going to die, Dean, I think that’s a sufficient reason to be a little jittery.” Dean got up from his place on the bed and walked towards you. 

“We’ve known each other for how long, Y/N? I can tell when you’re not telling me the whole story.” 

You ignored him, electing to listen to the Christmas music coming from the radio instead. It was one of your favorites. You mouthed the words to yourself. 

“Through the years, we all will be together. If the fates allow.” 

“Fate hasn’t exactly been our friend.” You scoffed. 

“Huh?”

“The song. It says ‘if the fates allow’. Fate doesn’t seem to like us this year.” 

“I don’t believe in all that.” Dean said, shaking his head. “And if I did, it looks like ‘fate’ has had it out for me for the past fifteen years.” 

“Fair enough.” You crossed your arms over your chest, watching snow start to fall outside the window. Neither of you said anything. You both just watched the white flecks tumble down to the earth. You turned around and found him standing right behind you. It didn’t startle you. It felt like he was meant to be close to you. You breathed in slowly before whispering. “Merry Christmas Dean.” 

“Merry Christmas.” 

You didn’t need any mistletoe for what came next. 

[stxleslyds]

MY TOUGHTS ON PART TWO OF RED HOOD BY CHIP ZDARSKY :)

A DC BOOK THAT TASTES LIKE MARVEL.

You know when you are reading a book and you feel like the story you are reading seems familiar but not really within the context you are reading it at the moment? If you can’t shake the wrong sense of familiarity you search for what it probably the biggest give away, the author.

Here it’s something like that; I have read other pieces of Chip Zdarsky’s work, namely Daredevil. While I could tell you the familiarity is there, in the subject of guilt after taking the life of another person, the reality is that this book doesn’t taste like Daredevil, it tastes like Marvel.

That can be either an excellent thing (because Marvel has amazing books) or something terrible (because DC isn’t Marvel and they don’t work the same way).

As of now I can’t really tell if this Red Hood story is going to be one or the other, but I can tell you that it feels out of place in the DC universe, or at least that’s how I see it. I will explore this particular thought later, I just thought this was a nice way to open this post.

If you would like to read the first post I made about this book I will leave the link here!

Now…let’s begin.

Part two picks up exactly where part one left off, we see Jason calling Oracle so she can bring the police to the place where Jason killed Andy a.ka. that gigantic piece of shit.

Jason is having some thoughts, ones that I think are important.

“I have taken lives before, a lot of them. I have killed guys knowing nothing about them except that they had guns and murder in their hearts. Those ones are easy; I don’t have to think of their mothers getting the news or of kids being...”

Jason is troubled. He is now in front of a reality that he never truly thought about but to be honest with you I strongly believe that nobody in the DC universe thinks beyond what happens in front of them, that’s just how fictional comic worlds are designed.

Anyway, there is a little something that bothers me in this inner monologue of his, like since when have “murderers” been Jason’s actual target? Like Joker was his target but he didn’t kill him, the base of Jason’s morals when it comes to killing has always been drugs, most importantly if you sell drugs to kids. So unless he is saying “murderers” because they were selling drugs that caused people (especially kids) to overdose then I don’t really get what is going on.

Another thing that I also talked about in the first post is that Jason hasn’t killed in a very long time, this man has been sticking to the Bats rule for so long that it’s actually unreal. Even when he shot the penguin and Batman proceeded to almost beat Jason to death the penguin hadn’t died. So once again I am thinking that Zdarsky has some info that he is not sharing right now or maybe he just didn’t read Lobdell's run (in which case, can you really blame him?)

Now let me talk about the other part of his monologue “…I don’t have to think of their mothers getting the news or of kids being...” This is something that I haven’t seen in DC, direct consequences after a hero/vigilante does something, and let me tell you it feels out of place. Is it a good or bad thing? I don’t really know but I have some thoughts on the subject.

I think it's unfair to put a comic character in that situation or dilemma. Jason has basically three reactions to the same situation and they are all valid, but can this situation be handled by a fictional person in a fictional world? Because to be fair I could also ask about the criminals that are put in hospitals after they are beat up by heroes, what if they die in the hospital? Is the hero a killer or does it fall on the hospital? If a criminal cannot pay for the attention given to them in hospitals and they immediately go back to criminal activity to pay for those things, are heroes a good thing? If the Joker bombs a hospital for the third time in four months and Batman does the same thing (take joker to Arkham) only for Joker to escape and do it again, is Batman as guilty as the Joker for the deaths of innocent people or not?

As I wrote it and as I read it again I see that it is a crazy thought because you can simply add more depth to the characters decisions and the consequences that would ensue because of them, but Gotham is a fictional city created to establish that crime is off the charts and that they need Batman because no amount of resources will be able to fix this city’s problems. So putting Jason in this position is new to me…but only in DC (more of this particular thought below).

Going back to the comic in question, I feel like Jason had the answers and the ideas all in his head. In this issue alone he basically says that if the mother does not pull through the boy will be alone, but alone means going into the system (a horrible system that Jason does not trust and needs improvement), but also, Jason recognizes that if the mother died and the father was left alive then that man would have done horrendous stuff. I just simply wouldn't believe that a man that gave drugs to both his wife and son so they wouldn't bother him is just going to change after realizing that his wife died because of him. Even less believable is him becoming an amazing father.

In the big scheme of things, Jason has killed people who fitted very certain characteristics, never innocents (bye, Morrison). What happens after the killing is done? We don’t know because past stories have never focused on that (criminals in comics are by default one dimensional, villains are not)

But here is the thing, Zdarsky is a Marvel writer and Marvel has gone in depth within those situations (like what happens after heroes commit mistakes or kill someone) mostly with Civil War by Mark Millar and more recently in Daredevil written by Chip Zdarsky, but DC hasn't and DC has been plain for a long time, DC doesn't really explain how batman hurts people severely and nothing happens beyond that.

What I am trying to say is that Zdarsky is going for a different and unique route for Jason here but I think the story is out of place in the DC universe.

I promise I am done with those thoughts, they were really difficult to put on paper and to make them make sense, so I apologize if I only confused you, sorry!

Anyway! After the monologue is done we have a flashback where little Jason is being told by his mother to go buy bread (the only thing they can afford) but she is also making him leave so he doesn’t have to be present when Robby (a friend if you ask Jason’s mom, a drug dealer if you ask Jason) comes to the apartment to help her.

Sadly as Jason is leaving Robby is walking up the stairs, now not to copy little Jason but fuck Robby. Jason’s issues with drugs, drug dealing and overdosing is once again shown here but what is also shown is the violence that comes with it. Jason being terrified for himself (and his mother) as Robby pulls a knife on him broke my heart and as he is left there in the corridor to his apartment all we can see is a defeated little boy and that shit hurts a lot.

After that we jump back to the future with none other than Batgod…I mean Batman. Batman is following a man called Sydney and apparently he disappointed Batman because B told him to stop being a criminal, like come on man if I ask nicely or if I break both of your arms you will surely stop, right? Yeah, no.

I feel like I mentioned something about this while my brain decided that DC never usually explains what happens with criminals after they get caught or killed and now here we are. Consequences. Batman scares a man off of working for Scarecrow but the man still needs to work (does he have a family to provide for? We don’t know. Does he do it because it’s the only job he can get? We don’t know.)

This Batman intermission ends up with Oracle telling him that Jason might be in trouble.

So we find ourselves back with Jason and Tyler in his safe house, Zdarsky does not hesitate and first thing he does is give us a couple of very angsty panels.

I love the way it hurts.

Jason honey, my sweet chonky boy…what are you doing?

Well at least I am not the only one asking that because Jason is having a moment to reflect about what has happened, what is happening and what could happen in the future. In this monologue he says the following:

“Dammit, Jason, what the hell are you doing? You can’t take care of this kid! But you can’t put him in the system either! Just waiting for some obsessed militaristic billionaire to adopt him? Dammit. His dad was scum, he hurt Tyler, he hurt his mom. But if Tyler’s mom doesn’t pull through…I just made this kid an orphan. He is my responsibility, he is too young to really see what he’s gone through, he can still be saved…unlike…”

Yeah that’s some really angsty thoughts, he is really going through it and I understand it. He lost his cool after what that horrible human being said he did and killed him and now he has to face the consequences of his actions, he recognizes that if the boy is left truly alone he will have to step up…but here is the thing, does Jason really want that? It seems to me like Jason is deeply against the idea of children working as heroes, and here he is as an adult that is a vigilante with an impressionable child that sees the Red Hood as his hero, I don’t know, it looks like the perfect recipe for a disaster.

But we don’t get to see what Jason does right away because its flashback time.

Jason only moved from his spot in the corridor of his apartment door to get the bread but as Robby comes out of said door Jason is there waiting. Robby teases that he and Jason’s mom ended up sharing the “medicine” and that she will be sleeping for a long time, and that seems to be it for Jason because next thing you know Robby is falling down the stairs.

Aw, shit.

Jason from the future continues his monologue while he remembers what happened on those stairs.

“I never had a chance, not for one second. But he does, Tyler has a chance. I can help him, help him be okay. This doesn’t…what I did…what his parents did, it doesn’t have to define him.”

So Jason wants to make things right for Tyler so he doesn’t become like Jason. Now I don’t truly know what Zdarsky is going for but I will go for the unconscious route, little Jason pushed Robby (that fucker) down the stairs and he was left unconscious there.

In Jason’s eyes Tyler is still a good kid that deserves only the best (like you Jason, please don’t think so low about yourself) and that can be saved from a life of vengeance, justice and trauma. But whatever Jason was going to actually say to Tyler we don’t know because Tyler informs Jason that through the Red Hood mask there is someone telling him that Batman is coming.

Batman appears out of nowhere as he does and starts talking shit.

Honestly Batman what is with that “not my town” bullshit? Baby this isn’t the medieval times, you are not a king and as far as I know not only is Lucius Fox richer than you but so is Dick so sit your ass down and shut the fuck up.

Luckily Jason is giving the outstanding amount of zero fucks and tells Batman exactly what he needs to be told, sadly Jason’s big brain time doesn’t last long because he absolutely loses his cool and starts a fight. So you know what that means, monologue time!

“This was a mistake, but I can’t help myself, he gets under my skin. His sanctimony, he acts like he’s God, all knowing, all seeing when really…he’s just another failed parent.”

Amen. Jason knows many languages but he chose to speak facts.

As the monologue ends Batman is standing over Jason like he is about to murder him but no such thing happens because Tyler, who was quietly watching them fight, jumps in to protect Jason. Yep, there goes my heart, goodbye.

And this is it. The issue ends with Tyler putting an end to the fight and telling batman that he has to leave the Red Hood alone because he is a good guy. Jason of course is thankful and promises that everything is fine.

 I don’t know about you guys but so far I can’t say if I like the book or not. Both parts left me with mixed feelings. I obviously want to see how it ends but I honestly think that there is only one way this story can end with a happy ending, which I think it would be Tyler going back to his mom and Jason somehow working to help her with her drug addiction, maybe even have Dick involved so he can help them economically.

Things that I surely do not want to see are Jason backing down again and limiting himself to the Bats rules. I also absolutely don’t want Zdarsky to go all Geoff Johns on us and make Jason think that he should give up the Red Hood mantle.

Jason really needs to gain his confidence back, he was smart, calculated and strategic and now they have taken those things away to accentuate his “daddy issues” and “inferiority complex”. Why the quotation marks you ask? Oh, because those things are bullshit and there is no room for those things in Jason’s characterization other than to add more angst to the plot.

Let me know how you felt about the issue and my review! Are you excited about what the four next issues are going to bring to the story?

Also if you read Marvel, did this issue taste like Marvel to you too or am I going crazy?