#of course there were outtakes

[n-a-gindustries]

j&w redraw of a ss of fry + laurie

(ss under the cut :p)

[asgoreandcoug]

17/08/2016

[kiiwiigii]

The Red-Eyed Boy pt. i

Pt. Two | Three | Outtake

Alec x Swan!Fem!Reader

Summary: When Edward goes to the Volturi seeking death he accidentally exposes Bella's sister. Not taking any chances Alec is sent to finish you.

Warnings:

I haven't written ff in forever soooo...

Also I have trouble with the whole Y/N thing.

Language

Kinda, sorta NSFW I guess? Lot's of kissing.

Word Count: 1,938

A/N: Alec is aged up.

Aro let his mouth twist into a cruel smirk. Apparently, the Swan girl was dead, a sad waste of possible talent he lamented silently, but what was done was done. Edward had had no intention of turning her anyway, so what did it matter?

However, there had been another problem that Edward hadn't meant to expose.

Her sister.

"NO!" Edward shouted. "No! No, she's not aware. She doesn't know-"

"Now, now Edward. We cannot take chances, you know this. The girl already has her suspicions."

Edward's face crumpled into a half snarl. Going to the Volturi for your own death was one thing, but not only had he been denied this sweet relief, he had sentenced another to death. Surely he could get them to understand that Y/N was completely in the dark. Sure she had suspicions but that was just it. Suspicions. And aside from a few shopping trips with Alice (in which Alice had to practically drag Y/N out of the house in an attempt to get to know her better) she had stayed relatively far away. What Bella should have done, he thought with a cringe.

"Alec." Aro called over his shoulder.

Alec was at his master's side in less than a second, staring blankly ahead and awaiting orders.

"You are to head the Swan household in Forks. Take care of Bella's sister."

"Of course Master."

Alec gave a bow before sharing a look with his own sister and heading out of the throne room; Edward's renewed attempt at talking Aro into sparing the other Swan girl's life fading away ever so slightly. He couldn't help but smirk. Fresh blood that didn't have to be delivered. A chance to hunt. Maybe he would play with his food before he finished her off. Make her run. Make her beg. Or perhaps... a different kind of begging. A begging brought on with kisses and meaningless words whispered in her ear. His smirk twisted into a smile. There were always different ways to play, right?

Dad,

I'm with Alice. Edward's in trouble. You can ground me when I get back. I know it's a bad time. So sorry. Love you so much.

Bella

"You gotta be fucking kidding me."

With a groan I let the letter slip from my fingers and back to its original place on the kitchen counter. I knew Bella was still healing, but never in my wildest dreams did I picture her dropping everything and just taking off for the boy who dumped her.

I paused, leaning against the counter with my head in my hands, wondering if I should just go ahead and call dad or wait to break the news to him when he got home. On the one hand if I called him now, it would distract him from his job... however if I didn't tell him now and he finds out I knew before he got home, I could possibly land myself in hot water and get grounded myself. And oh boy was Bella going to get grounded. Probably for the rest of the year if not her life.

She probably figured I'd find the letter first and would butter dad up anyways. Soften the blow that his eldest daughter went missing with a barely half-assed explanation. Well, she would be wrong about the latter at least. She'd be dealing with dad by herself on that one. As much as I loved her, I didn't want to be mixed up in her shenanigans.

Mind made up, I picked up my cell to make the dreaded call, and as expected dad picked up on the first ring.

"Uh, hey dad..."

I'm dreaming of him again. The boy with the red eyes.

He was standing in front of a familiar house, just watching. Waiting. I could see it in his eyes as they flicked back and forth. He was contemplating something, his head tilting just slightly as he took in the sloping roof and the off-white siding that was in severe need of cleaning. A truck and police car rested in its driveway, silent and empty.

My heart leapt. Why was he in front of my house? I'd dreamt of this boy plenty of times before, but never had he been in my own yard. Or anywhere I was even familiar with.

Instead, he was usually shrouded by a fine black mist. Sometimes, if I was lucky enough, he would simply be doing something rather mundane, like reading a book or walking in a garden. Other times my dreams would be rather violent, and I could hear the screaming of his victims as he ripped them to shreds. Then there was the girl that usually stood by his side. If the boy was violent, she was easily a hundred times worse. It was like watching a horror movie come to life and I couldn't close my eyes. I found that I didn't want to close my eyes. He was fascinating to me.

Or maybe it's because I'm a weird and sick individual.

He circled around to the back of the house now, his eyes trailing upwards until they landed on the second-floor window, a smirk beginning to curl on his lips.

My window.

I woke up with a gasp, clutching at my sheets.

What the fuck?

My imagination was finally getting away from me.

I couldn't help but look towards my window, still tightly shut and locked, only the soft glow of fairy lights winking back at me. Untangling myself from my sheets, I slipped from my bed and plodded over to the window. Nothing's out there, I thought. It's a stupid dream. They've all been stupid dreams. The red-eyed boy doesn't exist, Y/N. I unlocked the window and pushed it upwards before sticking my head out and looking around. Of course, I couldn't see worth shit but I squinted my eyes anyway, you know, just in case it would help me see better.

The yard was dark and empty. No handsome, red-eyed boys anywhere to be found.

I almost breathed a sigh of relief before a loud jingle broke through the silence, causing me to jump and slam my head into the window.

"Fuck." I hissed, cradling the spot that I could now feel a nice bruise forming.

It took me a moment to realize that the jingle was coming from my phone. Scrambling towards my dresser I managed to trip on the sheets I'd thrown off just minutes ago and go crashing to the floor. Tonight was just not my night. Despite my new entanglement, I reached up and managed to grab my phone, flipping it open without looking at the caller ID.

"Y/N? Y/N?" The voice on the other end was frantic.

Bella. I finally let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding, the tension easing from my shoulders for the first time in days.

"Who else would it be?"

Despite my irritation and anger from her stunt I couldn't help but crack a grin as relief flooded through me. She was safe. I could already feel the hysterical laughter bubbling up. But that was quickly quashed as a new voice spoke from behind me.

"You're just as clumsy as your dear sister."

I whirled around and promptly dropped the phone as my eyes took in the dark figure standing at my feet. He was beautiful. Sinfully so. Dressed in all black, his pale skin stood out all the more. Agonizingly perfect and flawless, with dark hair sweeping across his forehead. And his eyes. Oh those eyes. My dreams didn't do them justice. Didn't do any piece of him justice.

"You." I breathed; eyes wide.

He suddenly tensed as our eyes met.

"You." He repeated.

Before I could blink, he was right before me, a gloved hand cradling my face. My mind was going haywire, trying to comprehend just what was happening. What was this pull I was feeling? What is this warmth? Did he feel it too?

"Your eyes." I whispered.

He arched a brow in amusement. "What of them?"

"They're beautiful. Like- like rubies." I stuttered quietly, feeling myself flush. "Am- am I dreaming again?"

Now both brows shot up. He probably thought I was crazy. And at this point he would be right. The boy that I had literally been dreaming about since I was a child was right in front of me.

"Y/N!"

The faraway crackle of my phone pulled me back to reality and I slowly picked it up, watching the boy in front of me. He made no move to stop me, only brushing a cool thumb across my cheek.

Wait, when had he lost the glove?

"I- I'm here."

"Did you hear anything I said?"

It was Alice Cullen

"Er- no."

"Listen," Alice began hurriedly. "I know this a lot to take in, but Alec isn't going to hurt you. It's- mates are a complicated thing in the vampire world."

"I'm sorry, what now?" I blinked rapidly as I tried to process what she was saying.

There was a low growl before I felt the phone being taken from my hands gently. I would be lying if that growl hadn't sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

"Cullen. Given your talent I think you would know that Y/N is perfectly safe with me." He leaned in as he tilted my head back, his nose running along my neck. "She is my mate after all."

My breath hitched at not only his words but the little nips and licks he began to trail along my neck, cool against my flushed skin. Oh gods, this could not be legal.

"Please inform Aro that Bella's sister will be coming to stay with us soon."

With a click he snapped the phone shut and molded his lips mine. I was pretty sure that my heart was about to beat out of my chest. Finally, he let me come back up for air with a small nibble on my bottom lip and burying his face back into my neck, his hands running down my sides in a slow caress.

"So- so you're Alec?"

He let out an actual purr at the sound of his name. "Say it again."

"You know people usually introduce themselves before making out right?"

There was a growl in response, and I almost let out a moan. Oh fuck, please stop doing that. It was doing weird things to my body.

"Alec."

He lifted himself up to look at me again, eyes no longer that beautiful ruby red but nearly pitch black. He kissed me again and again, swiping his tongue along my lower lip before delving into my mouth with a hunger that shot heat straight between my legs. This time I moaned. He chuckled as he pulled away, placing light kisses along my jaw until he reached my ear and nibbling yet again. Lord did this boy like to nibble.

"I will be back, mio cara."

Suddenly he disappeared just as my door opened and my dad stood there looking rather alarmed. I just blinked at him in a daze.

"I heard voices." He grumbled, looking for all the world like he had just rolled out of bed... which he had.

I felt my face heat back up, trying to figure out exactly what he had heard and trying to come up with an excuse.

"Uhm. I heard from Bella!"

For once my sister saved the day.

NEXT

{Masterlist}

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[xxsquiddkiddxx]

~John Bender x Reader (in the form of "headcanons")~

Relationship type: Mostly Platonic (breifly romantic), Strangers to Friends to Lovers

Content Warnings: Fem Y/N, Swearing, John being a lil bit of a douche.

(I took some inspiration from the outtakes of the movie... and if you've never watched them? You should. They're HILARIOUS.)

Y'all definitely met in detention. You were brought in for some stupid reason, like accidentally back-sassing a substitute teacher or something like that.

He first got your attention in detention (hehe I rhymed) by blabbering nonsense in a ridiculous tone, to the point of screaming "AHH" over and over. You end up slowly turning to tell him to shut up. His response?

"Take a photo, it'll last longer, sweets."

If you think he made fun of you.... You're 100% right. He RELENTLESSLY made fun of you. Like... that shit brought you to tears at one point.

He felt like an asshole afterwards though. After you're done crying and you ignore him for an hour or so, he did apologize... in the most John Bender like fashion: punching your shoulder lightly and mumbling a "sorry".

Near the end of detention, you two look at each other and pretty much tell one another that y'all would never be friends out of that library. It was pretty much a mutual agreement that you two would NEVER interact again, even if you had mutual friends.

Months later, you're invited to a party by Claire. She's been a friend of yours for a few years now, and she, and I quote, told you: "You need to get your ass out of the house and actually talk to people."

You didn't WANT to... but you did.

She gave you the location and the time, pretty much making it so you hs no choice but TO go to this stupid party. But eh, you'd probably chill for a few, then bounce.

You didn't get 20 steps in when- what do you know? Guess who was leaning against the wall, cigarette resting in his mouth as he fished around in his pocket for a lighter?

John-Fucking-Bender.

You try your best to stay out of his gaze. Staying at least 20 feet away from where he was. Pretty much hoping and praying to whatever God was out there that Bender didn't see you.

Yeah he saw you.

He surprisingly talked to you, mostly small talk. But then y'all talk more and more and more and suddenly you both are so deep in conversation that you hardly notice the lack of people around you two.

So maybe you two were able to be friends :)

When the next school day hit, a lot of people were shocked to see you two in the hallways together, laughing about a joke that he'd made.

A lot of people thought y'all were dating.

When I say "thought", I mean "they pretty much assumed and spread it around the whole school."

You had to fight dating allegations for MONTHS on end. It was always "No, we're not dating." "No, I don't have feelings for Bender."

Chat, you're a LIAR.

You were starting to have feelings, but you weren't gonna talk about it of course. Talking about FEELINGS? Fuckin weird, man.

The same was on his end. He wasn't gonna say NUTHIN. He literally was head over heels for you, but the day he admits that is the day he regurgitates a shoe and bakes it in the oven.

He confessed first... in an argument.

He started to distance himself a little bit from you. I mean, come on, John Bender? In a RELATIONSHIP? Get fuckin' real.

This goes on for about a month until you finally confront him about it. Like the premise of the whole argument was a span of:

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"Cuz."

"Cuz why? Do you hate me or something?"

"Cuz."

Then y'all squabble more and more until he finally cracks and says he's avoiding you cuz he wants this stupid feeling to go away.

You have a heart-to-heart chat with one another and end up getting into a relationship.

You two agree to start slow, not really telling anyone and just staying friends to the public eye. Nothing too fast.

Yeah, that lasted like 2 hours.

It wasn't nessicarily John's fault. The dude trying to flirt with you just happened to have his face in the way of where John's fist wanted to be.

Take a wild guess who ended up in detention that Saturday?

Yep, he did.

A/N: I haven't actually written fanfiction in YEARS. The sad lack of John fanfiction made me finally come back XDDDDD It's dogwater and I wrote it in an Applebee's. Have this ig

~Squeed

[zhaliacain]

I have acquired this!

Well this is now my new favourite book. It essentially tells the story of season one with some outtakes and adaptions. Unfortunately some of my favourite episodes and scenes have been redacted but to be fair they had a lot to cover

So far I’ve only read it through google translate (using the camera to read the pages which my brother thinks is witchcraft) so I don’t have an accurate read yet but at some point I’ll sit down and translate it properly so I can read the whole thing at once rather than in batches (curse the shaky hands)

Here’s some of may favourite features I’ve found in my rough reading, I’ll put it under read more because there’s some stuff that either doesn’t line up with the canon or I suppose is a spoiler for some headcanons

A) Otto (Addo) is alive! During the final party after defeating the Professor it’s revealed that Guggenheim managed to get him back from the organisation and he is also there at the party. Zhalia is very relieved to see him and they catch up

B) Zhalia got a leg injury in the final battle, hence leaning on Dante

C) Defoe. During Dante and Griers fight on Sutos, Dante brings up Defoe and is told “the organisation got rid of him” take that as you will

D) you know that conversation Dante and Zhalia are having in the background of Lok and Sophie’s chat after defeating Madea? They’re arguing because Zhalia wants to bond with Madea and Dante won’t let her. I just found that interesting because I thought Zhalia wouldn’t want the Titan that brought up all her past trauma

D.1) little side note, to speed things up, Zhalia defeats Madea all by herself

E) after finding out Dante was NOT mind controlled and her thoughtspectre had worked, Zhalia wanted to hug Dante but didn’t

F) Sophie has keys to Dante’s house (kind of obvious considering they’re there alone all the time but it’s a nice feature)

G) tersely and Montehue give Lok a rare book of Norse mythology as a gift after defeating the professor

H) Montehue hugs everyone during the party and hugs Lok so hard, Dante has to step in

I) Dante describes Zhalia as beautiful

J) I need to check my translation but I think Zhalia’s parents were killed

K) Zhalia: tell me you aren’t lying to save yourself

Dante: I have never lied to you and I never will

Zhalia: klaus is like a father to me, I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it

Dante: I’ll take care of it

L) “a meal worthy of metagolem” is how I’ll be complimenting food from now on

M) rather than all of them touching the crystals to see if they’re pure of heart, just Lok does it and he gets an electric sensation go through his chest

N) to celebrate the whole Thor and mjolnjr thing, Guggenheim takes everyone out to dinner

O) lok was sleeping on Dante’s sofa without permission, he just kind of moved in and Dante gave up

P) Defoe was meant to take the sword of St George to Klaus, who would study it and take it to the professor

Q) oh that whole speech about going to Vienna where Dante changes his mind and takes the team? Nope he just says no and walks out and Leblanche spends the next few days baking treats to cheer them up

R) Loks cover story for his mum and sister was going to be: Sophie is a classmate on the same intensive archeology summer course as him and Dante and Zhalia are assistants to their elderly professor who is sick which is why they’re getting a holiday (the book then skips that episode and it’s unclear whether they didn’t go or whether it’s just not mentioned)

S) Lok asks why Sutos is not under the Greek government and the holotome tells them that it’s a regent based government which is inherited to the first born son

T: Zhalia: klaus taught me everything

Dante: except honesty

(Slightly paraphrased but it just cracks me up)

U) much like most fanfiction, Cherit is forgotten throughout most of it and occasionally gets mentioned

V) Lok: how did you do it?

Sophie: magic.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 7.5: The Only Escape

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter seven of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Cursing (a few times), Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

A/N: I know I've been kinda awol lately, so please enjoy this outtake that I never posted for "You Call It Madness, But I Call It Love" as a bribe. It takes place between Chapter 6 and Chapter 8. Oh and yes I did name Soldier Boy's Dad, James, but only because I couldn't find it.

*************************************

Philadelphia 1936

"Where the hell is he?" The snarl shakes your entire house and wakes you from a fitful sleep.

"Who?" You hear your father say back to the voice.

"Benjamin!" The initial voice shouts back and you recognize it, sending a chill down your spine. 

Ben's father.

Ben stirs in the bed behind you, the arm he has thrown over you waist in his sleep to secure you into his chest is heavy, unyielding. And if it weren't for the circumstances you would stay and pretend to still be asleep so you could enjoy your close proximity.

Boarding school nine had been the longest stint that Ben had spent in any school. You wondered if that was because he genuinely tried or because he knew you were still at the Dawson School for Girls and he didn't have anywhere to go. Of course now you were on break, and although you had been surprised when he showed up at your window the night you returned home, you were happy.

You had missed your best friend more than words and when he crossed the threshold through the window you had practically crushed him against you in a hug that, much to your surprise, he returned with just as much enthusiasm. The most you'd been able to do was send him a few letters, but seeing him in person made you feel like your heart was whole again.

 School for you was going as well as you'd think. The only thing you'd ever been good at was art, but you were trying your best. You'd actually been able to make a few friends, but none of them filled the hole that opened in your heart when you left Ben standing on the train station platform watching you leave through the window.

"He’s not here James." Your father's voice is calm, controlled. You’d never seen him lose control, he was always well composed, even in the most stressful situations.

"What's wrong?" You hear your mother say from the stairs. You can imagine her bathed in the soft light from the hall lamps, wearing her perfect dressing gown, and looking effortless, not like she'd just been woken from sleep.

Your eyes go to the clock on your bedside table. It was past two in the morning, which meant that Ben's father was probably halfway through his second bottle of whiskey.

Probably has it with him.

"Where is y/n?" Ben's father roars through the door so loudly, you flinch.

Ben’s grip tightens on your waist and you turn to look over your shoulder at him. His eyes are wide, and you can see a vulnerability behind the green that strengthens you.

"It’s okay." You whisper to him. Your hand drifts to his arm where it rests around your waist, to soothe him. Ben doesn't remove it. "I'm just gonna go tell him that you're not here."

"Don’t go out there” Ben’s grip is unbreakable.

"It’ll be alright." You breathe.

Ben’s eyes are wide and for a moment you see the little eight year old boy hiding from his father in your fathers study all those years ago.

"No." He shakes his head.

"Ben. It's okay. I'll be right back." You say as you pull yourself reluctantly from his grip and slide out of the bed beside him. When you look back at the bed, Ben is still watching you with wide eyes, his hair mused on one side from sleep, and it takes everything for you not to return back to him.

"I know that son of a bitch is here! He's always here!" Ben's father shouts as you exit your room, the force of his rage no longer muffled against your bedroom door.

"Mom? Dad? What’s wrong?" You rub the sleep from your eyes, looking towards the staircase at the end of the hall where your parents stand in the way of Ben's father.

Each time you see him, you're always reminded of how much Ben looks like him. They have the same green eyes, the same handsome features, the same dark hair. But there are differences- his father always looks worn, his hair slicked back over his head and streaked with gray, his eyes were like two coal black pits that did not hold the warmth that Ben's did, and his father's features, although handsome, made him look cruel, not the same boyish ruggedness that Ben possessed.

"You!" His father snarls, pushing past your parents to stomp up the final stairs towards you. His suit is rumpled and unbuttoned, his usual slicked back hair is hanging in his eyes in long greasy strands, with unshaven cheeks, and he carries a half-full bottle of whiskey. "Where is my bastard of a son?"

"Y/n, go back to bed." Your father says from behind Ben's father, but you ignore him.

“Sir you are unwell. Perhaps you should go home and sleep.” You say keeping your voice as composed as you can. A small shiver of fear travels down your spine, but you shake it away remembering the look in Ben's eyes when he heard his father.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Ben's father snaps, continuing to advance on you, but you hold your ground. "Where is he?"

"He's at boarding school." The lie is immediate.

"You're lying." He takes a long pull from the bottle hanging from his hand. “Get out of my way.”

“No."

The smell of the alcohol on his breath washes across your face causing your nose to wrinkle. His eyes are blazing with the force of his anger, face contorted in rage. By now his father is standing a few feet away from you.

Too close.

"Ben’s not here. And this is my room.” You're clutching the sides of your nightgown so tightly that your fingers are white. The fear that rises in the back of your throat is pushed away by the anger you have towards Ben's father and the need to protect Ben. You'd always protected him the same way he protected you and that meant that you were not going to let his father into your room.

His father raises his free hand to move you away from your door, but your father intervenes. Your father's hand fastens on Ben's dad's wrist. “James. Do not touch my daughter.” Your father says. It was the first time you'd ever seen him sound angry and that scared you a little bit.

It seems to do something to Ben’s father, who takes a step back from the door, eyes burning with rage.

"If you see my son," Ben's father levels his gaze on yours, his eyes soul-less and cold, sending another shiver down your spine. "Tell him that I'm looking for him." He wrenches his hand from your father's grip, stomps down the stairs, and out the door, slamming it so loudly that the picture frames that line the hallway shake.

You release the breath you didn't know you were holding.

"Are you alright?" Your father asks, putting his hand on your shoulder.

Your mother is still watching from the top of the stairs and you can only imagine what she's thinking.

Probably that it's improper for me to be out here in my nightgown.

"Yeah. I'm just gonna- go back to bed." You begin to say, but your father hugs you before you go.

"Tell Ben that he doesn't have to leave." He whispers in your ear before he releases you and gently pushes you towards your bedroom door once more.

"What?" You look up at him with wide eyes, surprised.

How does he always know when Ben is here?

"Go on back to bed." He smiles tightly, but you can see how angry your father is in the tension in his shoulders.

"Okay. Goodnight mother." You say as you open your door.

"Goodnight."

When you close your door behind you, you realize that Ben isn't in bed anymore, he's halfway to the door as if he was going to come out of the room but stopped.

“Ben?" You whisper looking up into his wide eyes. You can see his anger, frustration, and beneath it all, you see genuine fear. You'd never seen Ben afraid before, not since the night you met and it breaks something deep down. But before you can do anything, Ben closes the distance between the two of you and pulls you tight into a hug, pressing his forehead into your shoulder. Warmth explodes wherever you’re touching and it take a great deal of effort for you not to melt.

“Hey. It’s okay.” You whisper, running your fingers through his hair. “He’s not going to come in here. He’s gone.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” His voice is no more than a whisper. “I was going to come out-“

“Yes I did. You’re my friend. And I’m glad you didn’t.” You wonder what his father would have done if Ben came out of your bedroom. Ben’s father never hit him, but it didn’t mean that what he did do was any less okay. Standing here with Ben is enough to make the anger and frustration you felt melt away. You’re not aware of anything else but Ben. The rapid beat of his heart against yours, the breaths he takes, and the way the warmth of his body floods through where you are pressed against one another. 

“I should go-“ He begins to pull away.

“Like hell I’m going to let you go home to be with him. Come on. Let’s go back to bed.”

Ben stands there for a minute. You’d never seen him look so lost.

“Ben?”

He blinks a few times. “Hmm.”

“Come on.” You gently take his hand and lead him to the bed, drawing him back under the covers with you.

Your hands go under his arms and you hold him to you, not caring that you usually didn’t hug in bed. But Ben doesn’t pull away, in fact he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his forehead into your shoulder again.

“It’s okay.” You breathe, moving your fingers back into his hair. Deep down you know that this is different than all the other nights you’ve shared together, that you shouldn’t do this, but you can’t stop. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest and you desperately want him to be okay.

He sighs and tightens his arms around your waist, pushing himself further against you.

“I -um- missed you.” You hear him mutter into your shoulder.

You can't help, but smile, warmth blooming in your heart and making your heart flutter with his confession.

“I missed you too. No one annoys me as much as you do.” 

Ben”s chuckle is soft, but you love how it shakes your body due to your close proximity.

“What did you do to get out of this one?” You ask.

“Fight.”

“About what?”

“Nothing important.” He rumbles.

He doesn’t embellish and you don’t ask him to.

“How’s yours?”

“Boring.”

“Hmm.” He sighs leaning further into you.

You feel yourself begin to drift, the comfort of Ben’s warmth lulling you into a soothing slumber as you fingers stroke through his hair.

And when you wake up, Ben is gone.

*******************************************************

A/N: This was just a little outtake from the story, thought y'all would like it. I can't remember why I never posted it. Maybe because it seemed a little too soon for them to be this fluffy with one another?

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this story let me know :)

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[molter-writes]

getting in touch first and foremost to add to the chorus of praise for you and your writing - just sensational and gorgeous on every level, we are so lucky to have you! I was also wondering, when you next update your masterlist of your fics, if you could possibly add direct links to the two little deleted snippets from Grey Ridge that you once posted here? they were so great but I stupidly only saved the link to one and not the other, and have yet to find it again while scrolling!

unbearably kind - thank you so very much

grey ridge outtake 1

grey ridge outtake 2

and of course for those who want to revisit — the infamous molter premiere, grey ridge (ríl liatroma)

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟕   ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜   |   AUGUST 1991

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Trish Fitzpatrick wore many hats, but her favorite was “freelance journalist.” Her area of expertise grew directly out of myriad side gigs: what she called portrait pieces of interesting people. Outlets clamored for them—or, they had since she’d buttered up famous, neurotic opera singer-turned-starlet Prudence Boone into revealing she had a glass eye, a secret runaway daughter, and a hair-eating habit. Of course, Prudence was basically a stranger. They had once had a fifteen minute conversation on the deck of a yacht, bonding over the fact that neither actually knew to whom the vessel belonged. Prudence thought Trish’s outlandish suggestions were funny enough to remember her when she called to pitch the piece. It had gone the same way with Renzo. Of course, they had met while fighting over a scarf in a vintage clothing store. Trish considered letting him win to be a debt, one for which she would demand recompense at the ideal time. Opportunities passed, and then August 1991 proved to be the time.

❧ i got the irresistible urge to do renzo backstory, which was meant to be an outtake, but then i was like, "uh, no, this totally works as story proper if i put leonor in it," so here we are ! context and such. given the amount of work, this might be my magnum opus until further notice ... it was also just fun to do :^) checked off the sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll boxes ?? where's my prize. in conclusion, i love my white boy of the week or whatever

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

I grew up in a tiny town—Petunia. Petunia? You say it differently. It’s the country coming out, I guess. Not “pee-tyoon-ee-ah,” it’s “puh-toon-yuh.” Petunia. That’s it. So, how was it? Fond memories? In retrospect, maybe. I wanted to get the hell out of there from day one. What I remember is being very unhappy—dispositionally sullen, not just a pouty kid, but fully down and out. Born that way, probably. And your parents? My parents … Life had the upper hand, man. They were good at losing. I didn’t want that life.

My dad professed to be a traveling salesman—What, he wasn’t? I mean, he didn’t know jack shit about vacuums or whatever the fuck. I don’t know. But, he wasn’t around a lot, it sounds like? Gone for weeks at a time. Just me and my mom. How was she? Not really there either. When I got home from school, she’d pop her pills and be gone until morning. She wasn’t avoiding me; she was avoiding life. She did what she had to do in the mornings—you know, I had what I needed, the bare essentials—but she was checked out. You had a lot of unsupervised time, then. Oh, did I. Too much. I mean, I had books to read, and I got into music early—From her? No. My dad’d blow into town and bring pity gifts. Not kid-appropriate shit, now that I think about it. Heavy, gritty stories. A guitar I was too little to use. Flip lighter. But, you know, I was a kid. I wanted to run and play with everyone else, too. Of course.

Here’s the thing: it was hard to be a scrawny kid named Lorencio in Petunia. Shit, I can imagine. What was that like? … Hard, like I said. Well—Details? I got the shit kicked out of me. Regularly. What do they call it—um—“school of hard knocks”? Yeah. I remember, one time, I limped home on a Saturday. Mom was out of it, but she leapt up when she saw all the blood. Cleaned me up. It’s like I’m there now—in that bathroom with the dirty tile, her burning me with peroxide … She didn’t really talk, you know, not in a serious way? But she did then? She said, in Uspanian, “‘Don’t roll over for anyone.’” Interesting. So, that’s the lesson? Part of it. I realized that summer it didn’t matter if you were scrawny, if you talked funny, if you were poor. What mattered was not being a pussy. [Laughs] Oh, yeah? If you want credibility, if you want respect, sometimes you gotta be able to take a beating. Don’t roll over. That’s right.

I think it also helped when the growth spurt hit. You must’ve still been scrawny. [Laughs] String bean. So it goes. Adolescence . Now, you grew up fast, is what I’ve heard. You could say that. My life changed when Marty got out of lock-up—Sorry, what?—for “teen offenders”; he set his grandparents’ car on fire—oh, I see, regular kid shit—Uh huh. We hit it off. He introduced me to other guys, including Jesse. They’d huff gas together. Oh my God. Not whippits? Sure, but less convenient. That’s—No good, yeah. Fun though. Have you—? I’ve tried everything, Patricia.

Jesus! So, Marty and Jesse…? We got on like a house fire. [Groans] They were into petty crime for the thrill of it—Now, Renzo, is arson petty? He did it one fucking time. Everyone overreacted. They got into trouble for fun, and for you it was—? Money. Not a lot. I was too dumb to consider the risks. But, you did other things for money, too? Don’t say it like that. I wasn’t hooking. [Snorts] I worked a lot. I was cutting school to work, getting paid under the table, all of that. Maybe—hear me out—some of it was thrilling for you, too? I won’t tell anyone. [Chuckles] What can I say? Credibility.

I feel like I’m mischaracterizing … I love Marty and Jesse, to this day. Jesse’s daughter is your godchild, right? Yeah. Marty went back to Petunia in … ‘88? Jesse and I had better luck, or maybe we were just more desperate. Either way, my point is that delinquents get a bad rap—With good reason! Sure, okay. Both of them were deeper and more complicated than that. You’re not an outlier. No. We’re a dime a dozen. No one gives them the chances you got. Uh huh. So, we bonded over that—feeling down and out, like I said, but also the fact that we loved music. Marty’s family had money, so they’d bought him a nice bass guitar. But, Jesse’s mind … He’s so fucking creative. He wasn’t a reader, but I could tell him about something I’d been chewing on, and he’d have a song inspired by it within the hour. He has an incredible voice, too. He does.

I guess it’s not surprising that you guys did what you did. There was nothing for us at home, you know? Packing up and heading out west didn’t feel like a risk. And your mom understood that? Better than anyone. I know people judged her—shit, I judge her, too—but I always knew she was trying. That’s sweet. Is it? I mean, I think so … She met my dad at a bus stop three weeks after she arrived in the country and made the mistake of getting off at his stop. That’s it. That was her crime. Well, I’m sure she’s doing better now, huh? She lives in a nicer house in a nicer city, but that doesn’t cure depression, now does it? I suppose not. There was this woman whose lawn I’d cut all the time … A real bitch, but she was extra nice because she felt bad for me. Hated my mother. I think she was just jealous because my dad was her high school sweetheart. Isn’t that just how it goes? Damn foreigner stealing a real catch from her. [Scoffs] Sticky fingers when she invited me inside for lemonade—cigs and quarters from her purse, Valium from the cabinet, that kind of thing. [Laughs] Casual. It was pretty brazen, honestly. Fucking dumb kid.

Alright, so, you come out here with Marty and Jesse to make music, and now you’re a serious actor with a name and a big career ahead of you. How’d that happen? It was completely accidental. While we waited for a record deal, I did odd jobs, like auto work—you know, in a body shop. It was decent. Had you worked on cars before that? So, I got familiar, uh … [Chuckles] We’ve established I was a rascal. We could get under the hood of a parked car and make a few dollars off parts. I can get you in so much trouble, Renzo! [Laughs]

Don’t tell anyone, come on! I was a kid. Have a heart. I guess it paid off. But, alright, body work? What’s the connection? It’s kind of convoluted. When business was slow, the guy I worked for loaned his employees out to another mechanic. This guy, long story short, brought me along to assist him on a movie set. I guess he was a known quantity? Everyone knows the right guy! That’s everyone’s explanation for where they end up. Me, too. Uh huh. I don’t know why they let me do it, but—Somehow it worked out. Yeah, it did. Right place, right time.

You’re in the spot. How did you get into it, though? This is embarrassing as hell but, fuck it, I’ll be honest. Please. Don’t stop now. [Chuckles] I got a shot because I’d been chatting up this girl who, as it turns out, was the director’s kid—or, in fact, she approached me. I had no idea who she was or why she was there. Of course she did! That’s not surprising, is it? I think I was the most disinterested person there. I don’t know. Anyway, we talked a couple times, then—out of the blue—someone asked me if I wanted to hop into a scene, say a line, ten seconds flat. She did that for you? I don’t know what she did. No one mentioned her. Maybe she thought you looked like a movie star. [Snorts] Fuck. I hope not. Did you want to do it? I wanted to make music. I wanted to finish reading my book. I wanted … I mean, I said yeah. Can’t decline that. Makes a good story, right? What happened with her—? Oh, hell. Sorry! Moving on, for now. [Groans]

I got a call several weeks later about an audition. How did that feel? Bizarre. We’d done a demo for a producer once, but this was different. Were you excited? I was terrified. But, I went. Didn’t get that part, although everyone was perfectly nice to me. How disappointing. You always remember your first … But, hey, you have to look at it this way: I didn’t want to be an actor. I thought it was cool, but it felt like … ? Go ahead, give me a good metaphor. Like when you’ve been craving your favorite food, but then someone offers you a helping of something different, new, appetizing. How’s that? Passable. C-plus. [Laughs] Fuck you, Pat.

Okay, so the road didn’t end there. No, it didn’t. I got another call, and that one went well. This was for … Sugar Sweet? That’s the one. Cornball, but I love that movie. Never seen it. What! How is that possible? You were in it. You went to the premiere screening. There are pictures. Saw my first scene, excused myself to go piss, didn’t come back until the applause had started. Wow. Everyone has opinions about that movie these days—very contentious, whether or not Alicia was in the wrong when she left me and stole my lifelong dream. What do you think? Me, Renzo? Good for her. I thought it was kind of bitchy. It’s peculiar how many women say that. I wonder why … ! Billy’s so dreamy. Please, ask me about something else, Pat. So, this romantic comedy is your launching pad. It leads to the television show. The television show blows up immediately. Walk me through what that felt like?

Also terrifying. I really cannot emphasize enough that I didn’t want attention. I wanted money and time to support my music, and acting seemed like a good way to do that. Just didn’t account for the side effects. Like fame? Uh huh. I was a nobody in Sugar Sweet, and the pay was shit, but it felt like a miraculously good deal at the time. What it did is put me in the running for more serious work. I think, even then, sometimes the casting folks were hesitant to take a risk on someone with no experience whatsoever, even if they had—A spark? Talent? Sure. It was unsettling, the idea that I was some kind of “natural,” and I compensated by working really hard. Well, you’ve established yourself as a hard worker. Sure. I guess they saw that—the improvement, in addition to the fact that I had a resume to speak of by then. Or, eh, they saw that you were pretty. Right, of course, you don’t need talent if you have Teen Mag’s favorite cheekbones. [Snickers] I joined a cast with other people who had very little experience, and we bonded over that. I just didn’t expect to be … What, the center of attention? That, yeah.

You know what’s fucking weird? Huh? Signing your name on a picture of your own face that belongs to someone else. That they’re going to take it home and pin it to their fucking wall or frame it on their bedside table. Someone’s kid treating you like their school crush, blushing and shit while they’re asking for you to do it. That does seem like a strange experience. Over and over again. Teenyboppers, goddamn. You were in the magazines for them. I read a couple interviews. No the fuck I was not. I did not do those. No? What they do is take quotes from actual, consented conversations and stitch them together for their own use. It’s legal. That’s fascinating. Maybe I should try that. Less work. [Laughs] Yeah, alright, flush your “exclusive access” privilege right down the toilet.

But, look, I’m not disparaging the fans wholesale. That’d be unfair. And, ouch, ungrateful? Yeah. The initial couple years were fucking insane, but I was with people I liked, and a lot of the fans we actually met were … Normal? Uh huh. Not a hysterical, handsy, screaming blob. You got grabbed? Groped, Pat. Oh boy. We don’t like grabass, I guess. Well, hold on now, just not like that—You keep sidetracking me. What kind of interviewer are you? I’m having fun with my buddy! Sue me. [Chuckles] You got it, baby. What was I saying? The fans? Yeah. The ones we met one-on-one were cool, usually. They had deep thoughts about the show, you know? Ideas about the characters, the plots—filled in holes in the shitty writing. No offense to Jack and Reuben, I hope! Don’t print that, Pat.

If I’m being honest, having to answer their questions made me think deeply about the role. That’s stayed with me. I don’t like being walked up on in public, but sometimes it’d go fine. The first time someone came up to me in the wild, her mother looked so fucking apologetic that I decided, “Cool it, don’t be a jackass.” She wanted to talk about the book I was buying. Same thing would happen to Frank, Perry, Vicky. How about the show itself? That was a three year commitment.

It was alright. In retrospect, I understand that television isn’t for respectable actors, which made the transition hard. Harder to have been on a show for teenagers. But, you made that switch in Uspana. So, did that play into the calculus at all? I lucked out, in the sense that the show was co-produced, and I got to do the dubbing for the Uspanian version. I wasn’t a total unknown, even if they thought my Uspanian was shitty. Is it? Losing an accent is hard, in my defense.

When my contract ended, I hit the road. You didn’t think about staying on? I thought about it with horror, yes. [Laughs] You’d keep shit-talking the whole production if I let you. Maybe. So, in Uspana? It was like exhaling for the first time in a while. I did nothing for a couple months. All that hard work, being a beloved TV star … Throw me a bone, Pat. But, anyway, I didn’t even see my mom’s family again for a few weeks—You knew them, though? Yeah, we’d met, during the press trips. Beach life by yourself. Luxury.

You know, I needed to reconnect with myself. That’s how I felt. I felt like I had been an imposter, then I felt like I had to be someone I wasn’t, and now … You could go a different way. A fork in the road, for your career. Your life, really. Right, yeah. I went to Canarís like any good tourist. I had more money than I’d ever had in my life. I had no plans. Sounds like a dream. It was.

Crucially, I was out of my mind most of the time. Kite high. So fucking high. I swear I almost drowned twice, at which point it was politely suggested that I stop using the pool. Did you politely agree? Fuck no. [Laughs] Troublemaking aside, I ended up taking phone calls, making plans with people—Industry people? Yeah. There were people I knew already, but meeting the ones I really wanted to work with happened kind of organically—parties, premieres for other films, cafes. At the Morningstar Cafe in Canarís? Right, exactly. Same way I ended up finding The Den. Someone at the cafe had worked with Karolina Teague, and she took me there one evening after we all got tossed out of some poor son of a bitch’s house. Sounds rowdy. Can’t blame him. It was after midnight. And? Well, it was a lunch that’d started at eleven in the morning, so. [Chuckles]

So, I have a question. You’re pretty consistent—in terms of behavior. “Behavior?” [Snorts] Yeah, okay, I understand. What was that like, with cameras on you? The photographers in Uspana definitely aren’t less aggressive. That’s part of it. I don’t know if I’d call it an epiphany, but I left Canarís for Nakawe with the understanding that I was going to just do what I wanted to do. Oh boy. Within reason, fuck. Reason. Sure, yes. You didn’t feel like a dumb kid anymore. I mean, I guess I have more fun with the camera guys here. They can get away with more, ergo, so can we.

I distinctly recall you got arrested for—I barely touched that guy or his fucking camera. Did him a favor, if I did. Dogshit quality device. [Chuckles] Not sure he saw it that way, but the charges were dropped. I mean, don’t get me wrong, shouldn’t have reacted that way. I kept thinking about my mom seeing those pictures … The one time I got picked up, she backhanded me in the middle of the station, right in front of the cops. Jesus. In the car, she goes, “If you get caught again, I’m going to rip your ears off.” Empty threat, I guess.

The Den—I want to talk about that. Please, let’s. Your first time there? It was with Karolina, like I said, and there was a local band playing that night. They’d wrapped up their set by the time we arrived and were just … jamming on the stage, taking feedback and requests from the people who were still there. Some kind of funky jazz mash-up. I liked it. How did it come to you? It opened in ‘57 as a bar and, at some point, it turned into more of a music venue open to a certain segment of Nakawe. The guy who owned it gave exposure to a lot of people who went on to really do something with their art, and that’s why it ended up being a somewhat exclusive spot. Celebrities already knew it and brought their friends. Uh huh. I could stroll up, and the cameras weren’t with me because they were already there. He got tired of that, I think—He was an older fella, right? Yeah. But, really, he managed other properties, and The Den wasn’t his passion project the way it’s become for me. So, you had the money and took it off his hands.

What goes on in there? [Laughs] Pat, you’ve been inside. Well, not for me! If I’m going to describe it to people who’ll never go inside, what would I say? I mean, it’s a hangout spot. It’s a performance venue. We had, uh, mimes last month. Truly gifted, those people. [Laughs] Really? I don’t come up with all of the ideas myself, but I only agree to the shit I’m interested in. It’s kind of selfish, but I guess I’m lucky to know a lot of people who’ll toss in five dollars to enjoy it. It’s something. Compelling. I mean it. Thanks. That’s not all, though. I mean, you describe it as a “haven.” It’s very private. Some of your regulars are troubled individuals. Damn, Patricia, just say it. I feel like a cop! “Do you condone drug use in your establishment?” nonsense. But, well … I’m not explaining it. Either you—they, whoever the hell—get it or don’t. Come for the music, come to unwind however you like, doesn’t fucking matter to me as long as you’re coming with an invitation. I like to go in the back room, close the door, let the music and noise seep through. Muffled. You don’t really strike me as a partier, frankly. You never have. I wouldn’t argue with that. I like parties, but I don’t need to be at the center. Some do. That’s fine. This place is for us all.

Maybe it works out because of that, that you’re curating this space but not necessarily always in it? What do you mean? Well, you reopened it and then, if memory serves, immediately went off to do a film. The party kept going. You just like to know it’s happening. Alright, sure. That’s true. Knowing it’s there … Yeah. I like it. I was in that back room, thinking about the script, when I decided to do it, actually. Life felt like it was falling into place. It was a good time to take a leap. “’You are going to be a cowboy?’” “’No, I’m going to be a farmer.’” I had that conversation a thousand times. Reporters, man. Hey! Everyone was so surprised. I think they thought the premise was … I don’t know, that it just wasn’t something I would want to do? Or, worse, that the filmmakers wouldn’t want to work with someone like me? Unflattering assumptions, sounds like. Can’t blame them. I had a lot to prove. Still do.

How was six weeks in Texict? Fucking heaven. I loved it. My mother’s from the northwest so, even when I visited family, it wasn’t anywhere close. No reason to visit until we dropped in to do the film. Every day, I woke up happy to be alive. Happy to be doing this job. Gorgeous. I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess it wasn’t just the location, was it?

No, you’re right. I felt like I was really acting—for the first time, seriously. Maybe the cast helped? I’d worked with established actors before. The leads in Sugar Sweet were—well, you know who they were. I learned a ton from them. But, yeah, I guess Sasha was the first person I’d worked alongside who had me sweating. Oh? I wanted to impress her so fucking badly. I wanted to keep up, you know? So talented. So raw. She rips every line out of her chest with her bare hands. Bloodbath of emotion. The premise was new, too. Not a lighthearted romance this time. No. We were young parents of a ill child—stressed as fuck, trying to make life work, struggling separately to be together. Can’t lie, I ate that shit up. So did the critics. Hell yeah.

Every nomination felt surreal. The recognition was incredible. Validating. Sasha and some of the others swept up. I was just honored to be up there with them, honestly. Okay, well, let’s talk about Sasha. Do we have to? Yes. Indulge me! [Grumbling] I mean, all I can really say at this point is that I was obsessed, and it wasn’t until it was over that I had the clarity of mind to really wonder, hm, “Was I in love with Sasha, my coworker, or was I in love with Sasha playing Lucy, my wife?” That seems like an occupational hazard. I wouldn’t describe it that way. You take sensitive, delusional, beautiful people, pay them to get vulnerable and intimate with each other … It’s special, even if it’s … Not genuine? No, it is that. It’s not real, but it is genuine. How else can you say, “Well, our schedules don’t line up anymore, but I’ll have this scar of our initials forever?” You do not! No, I don’t. The letter S is really hard to cut without fucking up. Not a sober man’s idea. No.

Since I have you on the topic—hey, no, absolutely not—I’m obligated to ask if there’s anyone in your life right now. How’s that? Women’s magazines can snap this up and stitch it together for themselves. This is a public service. Patricia … Yes, Lorencio?

Look, I know you do your research. I do. I’m very good at it, too. What’s that like, princess pus—Pat. Pat, I’m begging you—Are you obsessed? The letter L is easier, I bet. It is. Would you go with another L or an R?

I’m not talking about this—not for you to print, anyway. Well, talk to me as a friend, then? I’m not just professionally nosy. We’re friends? Who else calls me Pat and gets away with it? You haven’t been Trish in a long time, it’s true … [Sighs] Fuck. Someone can be precious, right? Lovable. You can hold them in your hands and think, “This person matters to me. They’re special. I like to be around them; I like to listen to them; I want their affection.” You can really, genuinely cherish someone.

But? Maybe you find their life to be completely fucking repellent. Unbearable. … Damn.

There’s parallels, though, right? I mean, fame is fame, there’s got to be value in relatability, and—There’s an open mic going on downstairs in the hotel bar right this minute. Let’s take a break, Pat, what do you say? Let’s just go watch some of it. I’ll let you print dick measurements and my deepest, darkest secrets if you say yes. [Laughs] Well, if that’s on the table—

[youcouldmakealife]

COTT 36: outtakes

Today's chapter was originally almost a full 1k longer, as James got downright Holden-esque in his rambling (he gets over-explain-y when unsettled, and yearning is very destabilizing, especially on top of his general roadie overwhelm.).

I cut it because it's, you know, almost 1k of rambling reminiscence, but if you are interested, here is James' Vending Machine Adventures, That Time James Forgot His Passport and James' Feelings About Family Ties and Cracked Pepper.

On face licking and vending machine stalking:

Nor something he plans on ever doing, yearning aside, as he is not a canine.

But then, James would have also said that he was above loitering around a vending machine at midnight, trying to look like he was having trouble making a decision to avoid arousing suspicion.

Every time he heard footsteps coming down the hall he would resignedly pull out his wallet for effect, already knowing it wasn’t Holden.

At some point James must have learned what Holden’s walk sounds like. He’s not sure when that happened, but he can’t say he’s surprised either, given the intensity of focus he’s aimed Holden’s way over the past several weeks, researching him like an opponent, a play, a — the comparisons break down at some point, Holden unlike anything James has been preoccupied with before.

After the first few disappointments, James handled two more passerby — one a harassed looking member of the hotel staff, who paid him no attention, the other a teammate who unfortunately took James’ presence as an invitation to socialize — before he finally gave up, buying a bottle of water so he didn’t return to his room empty handed.

He’s not sure why he bothered — it’s not like was expecting to have to explain himself to anyone. Maybe so he didn’t have to admit, even to himself, that he’d been waiting for Holden, though it was probably a little late for that, because he knew that was precisely what he was doing.

He didn’t even end up drinking that water. He forget it in hotel mini-bar. He’d like to think someone drank it, but most likely, they just threw it out, which makes him feel dimly guilty about the waste. He reminds himself how many bottles of water they must sell at every hockey game, but that only makes him feel worse, so he watches highlights on his phone until his head clears, a clean sheet of ice again.

On Passport Snafus and Secret Safes:

Holden waves his passport at him triumphantly from his spot in line, and James rolls his eyes.

He forgot his own passport once — just once — early in his career. The team has photocopies, in case someone’s is lost or stolen, and apparently that was an acceptable substitute. At least, they let him into Canada, but rather than risk trouble on the way home — as a citizen, they have to let him in, passport or no, but he doubts they’re required to make it a comfortable process — his super let a staff member into his apartment with his permission. She sent it to them via same-day courier, and it arrived in Toronto almost as soon as they did.

James had been storing his passport in his underwear drawer at the time. He’d figured that way he’d never forget where it was, and he was right, but it didn’t prevent him from forgetting it entirely. For years he couldn’t look at her. Was genuinely relieved when she was promoted to a more senior position, one that involved significantly less interaction with the players.

His underwear drawer has simply been an underwear drawer ever since. His passport’s in his coat pocket now, of course, but when he gets home, it will go back into a hollowed out calculus textbook that Finn bought for him after the Passport Incident.

That book has been sitting on his shelf, concealing his passport for years without incident, up until last week, when Holden got his hands on it. He’d been skimming James’ shelves, making comments about the players whose autobiographies were present, snide and otherwise, but when he came across the calculus textbook he immediately reached out like he was magnetized, laughing when he flipped it open to find James’ passport, birth certificate, all the papers he couldn’t afford to lose. James would have been offended, but it wasn’t a laugh of amusement, more of discovery, of delight. Apparently, he’s able to identify that by sound too.

When James asked how he knew it was something worth investigating, Holden pointed out it was the only thing that didn’t involve hockey in the hockey room. James does have to admit that was an oversight on his part, and a concern if he is ever robbed. But then, if he is, everything of worth he owns is in that room, almost all of it irreplaceable. Losing his passport would be the least of his problems.

Even so, he likes it as a hiding space, so he’s considering hollowing out a hockey book instead. A bad one, one of the ones that barely discuss hockey, so busy offering braggadocio and salacious details, so he won’t feel so guilty about it.

Until then, he’s not particularly worried about Holden stealing his passport from its default hiding place. He’s far more concerned about him misplacing his own, or forgetting it again.

On the Ericksons and Schneiders sitting together during games:

His father said it made sense to, since he and Finn were almost always on the ice at the same time and besides, the Schneiders didn’t talk during play, like some parents did. It makes James uncomfortable, them knowing one another, socializing independently of him, but at the same time, it’s a relief they get along.

On dinner add-ons:

James demurs cracked pepper, parmesan, while the Schneiders load up on both — he likes both, but not enough to ask a stranger to lean into his personal space, over his plate, cranking their little machine unbearably slowly until he tells them to stop.

[vermillioncrown]

@rozaceous and I are truly blessed to have you as a reader, @sunshinerotting

(replying to your post “@vermillioncrown 🫡”)

have been thinking abt your porn for like a day these thoughts are still out of order lol: needed to get (thrown) off to get back solid footing. love sex as reassurance + a tool to communicate devotion in a way not traditionally expressed w sex. also of course they were each others’ first fuck. societal ideas about virginity aside and disregarded this really was the only way to get themselves back stable. new and finished facet of their intimacy. been woven together this was just another thread

We're so happy that the purpose of the sex in this outtake was interpreted the way we intended! While Korvin does say "disruption" and articulate his thoughts behind his intent, reassurance and devotion was up to us to convey it through the scene rather than explicit dialogue or narration. It is quite difficult to portray consensual sex outside the dichotomy of romantic love vs lust because no matter what anyone says, even aroaces, we live in a society that socializes us to associate sex with certain ideas.

On average, our trained instinct guides us to those ideas. It's queer to have a different expression, and that different expression also illustrates how disconnected Allie and Korvin are from society due to their circumstances. It's also a very vulnerable act---even if we disregard the emotions (looking at some aroace talk online smh bc it's still an act with regard towards your partner, I should fucking hope, and that's still emotional vulnerability), it's still physically vulnerable. So, yes, we can take "virginity" to be instead first person they let into their shells, past their skin, in the literal sense.

​like he HAD to scatter her to get her to snap back into it and she clearly needed a mark of him inside her like. the creampies were grounding. it’s a metaphor. and also hot. fear i did not pay enough attention to the clothes thing 😔 was too busy thinking “there’s no way these two have fucked anyone before. why are they good at this” which. it was never going to be bad w them. they wouldn’t have let it personal level i found the aspecs boning to be comforting. u guys get it.

He also wants proof he is able to affect her in that he matters to her, he is considered in her choices. She wants proof that he'll trust her, that he won't leave, that his words and actions are aligned, and that she's safe for him. The creampies are everything you say 🤭 Nothing between them, complete trust at the moment and continuing forward, and hah. Oh, you'll love the contrast with the TimKorv outtake 🙂

Don't worry about the clothes thing---it's a pretty deep read. Allie and Korvin are very conscientious about their presentation, because presentation is armor. Tim notices their outfits, that they take things out to dry-cleaning, the difference between the twins' choice of outfits during the Cold War. And, of course, clothes are socioeconomic class signals, which both twins would mind, having a billionaire-in-law and going through Rich Gothamite Hell. They both treat each other's clothes with a lot of care compared to their own as an act of devotion and proof of knowing each other well (barring Korvin's tank top bc Allie was out of patience by then, but their mood was light enough to balance it out).

HAHAHAHA so like, we can't get away with talking about the "skill issue" (lack thereof) without being personal. They're SIs so. Both Roz and I agree (and I have anecdotal proof) that a mindful, solicitous partner that is inexperienced can fare better than a self-centered partner with experience. And we both read a lot of smut (par for the course with fanfic), I have a very vivid kinetic imagination and have done a lot of physical activity requiring fine motor control and body awareness, Roz's livelihood is Knowing Bodies and How They Move. And people should explore themselves and extrapolate from there.

The very high bar is a combination of ^^ the above, their immediate need to reconcile and demonstrate devotion, and their comfort with each other. They knew this was the one and only time---gotta bring the A-game. You're right in that it was never going to be bad with them.

And thank you, it means a lot to us. We want more aspec boning, we want it to be sold, not told to us. Glad you feel that we nailed it.

it IS narratively coherent it makes so much sense for them it’s another threshold to walk through it was a natural move and i love that they’re done with it and it’s comfortable. that’s such a novelty. and her getting the snacks in case he changed his mind. there’s care everywhere there’s intimacy everywhere and we knew that but i could feel the bubble start to reassert itself as soon as they get to the motel. i love when sex isn’t about sex. talking bodies fr. it’s 2 am im defo forgetting smth

For a 2am thought, this is pretty comprehensive. Written sex is rarely about the sex, or it's rarely just about the sex. Obviously, we wanted it hot and sexy but like. Character study. It's a 15k character study.

shower scene was very funny and so was them making fun of dick unprompted. 2 virgins having improbably banger sex. gotta blame batman

That's the thing with neither of them ever suspecting there's another transmigrator. You think you're cheating with prior life experience/knowledge, but the other person is just exceptional like the rest of the batfam, duh. Right? ...?

DPNF from Tim's pov is biased against Dick. The twins love Dick, he's an essential part of their lives, it's an automatic reach to mock him lol.

Oh, final thing with difference between Allie being more hung-up than Korvin over the improbable virgin killing at sex---differences between continued female socialization versus 2.0 male socialization. Allie and her circumstances make her more self-conscious, the whole thing with women always self-monitoring how they are perceived.

Korvin doesn't have female socialization in his second life that ^ guides towards that, but he's very strange for a guy that looks masculine enough because his first life was as a woman, albeit one that existed and was rewarded in predominantly male spaces as an exception. So, he has different hangups which manifests in the rabid squirrel piloting the 6'4" fuccboi currently entertaining you all.

Gender!

[satureja13]

Outtakes

Pic above: It seems Agatha is also a big fan of Lou ;)

Pics below: Jack and Lou were peacefully riding to the Pub, when Lunatic ran off.

Back to the Arena where Noxee still was (with Greg of course! Poor Jack ^^')

Siawa had 'called' (from outside the Game) to ask Jack if everything is ok :3 aouww They are so worried after what happened in Jack's first playtest.

And Vampire Prince Caleb wasn't feeling well with all those furry Werewolves around ö.Ö' Prince Caleb: "Why are we even here?" Queen Noxee: "That's what royals do apparently. Show up at all kind of nonsense events to please our subjects or whatsoever. Smile!"

Haha and then adult Jack passed by!

Vlad: "Can I have my money now?"

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest 🕹️ 'Therapy Game' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

hi can i ask if you have a list of fics of everlark being together before going into the games?

Hello Anon!

Thank you for this ask! Below is a list of fics I could find for Together Before the 74th Games Fics. Hopefully some of these are new to you! Happy Reading!

74th Hunger Games Challenge: We Always Were-jamiesommers (ao3) or (ff) Summary: In this A/U story Katniss and Peeta go into the Games as a couple. It is based on the book, the movie, and a hell of a lot of my imagination. Since it is written in multiple POV's you'll be able to see what was happening in District 12 during the Tribute Parade, and what was going on at the Capitol during the Games. The Sequels are Catching Fire: Rekindling and Mockingjay: Broken Wings. There are also rated M outtakes for those two stories. I do hope you enjoy. Courage-mamabear623 (ao3) or (ff) Summary: "Today is the day," Peeta thought. Of course, he'd been saying that for the past ten years and it hadn't happened yet. Peeta strikes up the nerve to talk to Katniss before the 74th Annual Hunger Games. AU. Hope (or Lack Thereof)-BleedtoLoveHer (ff) Summary: Oneshot AU in which Katniss and Peeta are a couple before the Games. The same names are called during the reaping ceremony, but volunteers are not permitted. In Another Life-infinitegraces (ao3) or (tumblr) Summary: “I can’t imagine having all that responsibility on my shoulders.” My First Date with Katniss Everdeen-holymfwickee (ff) Summary: AU. Take a deep breath. Wipe the sweat off your hands. Don't let her scowl make you nervous. You're only talking to the girl you've been in love with your entire life. No More Owed-Enna Energe (ff) Summary: Katniss knows she owes the boy with the bread, and she hates the obligation. But now she has a chance to repay her debt. Occurs pre-Hunger Games. our little fires-brimay (ao3) Summary: Pale as a ghost, Peeta climbs the steps. It’s so silent in the Square that I hear the wood creak. The tears are streaming down his face now. Curling his hands into fists along his sides, he takes his place next to me. Finally, reality sinks in, crushing me. I’m not going to wake up. They want me to kill the boy with the bread. They want me to kill the boy I love. (or: The Hunger Games but Katniss and Peeta are a couple when they are reaped.) the sharp knife of a short life-atetheredmind (ao3) Summary: When Katniss’ mother dies, she finds an unlikely friend in the baker’s son. A look at Katniss’ life in D12 had her father lived. AU.  The Volunteer-DustWriter (ff) Summary: Katniss thought she knew the baker's son, but when Peeta is left without a father, Katniss finds she knew very little at all. He's not what she expected, but she wants to know more about the boy who changed her life. Upside-Down Cake-aimmyarrowshigh (ao3) or (ff) Summary: How a boy from the Seam and the baker's daughter healed old wounds, baked bread, and found poison berries in District Twelve.

If anyone knows of a fic like this, please reblog, reply, or send an ask with fics fitting this idea and I’ll add it here!

As always, if you have any questions, comments, or suggestions, please feel free to shoot me an ask!

Updated 9/17/24 @5:35pm

Thank you @safefromheartbreak

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

I Choose You

Gale x Single Mom!Tav, Gale x OC, Gale x Gwen, Gale POV, Hurt/Comfort, Light Smut

Summary: Gale knows the end is coming, sooner rather than later. The only question now is, whose will is stronger? A goddess or the woman laying in his arms.

Based on prompt from @kaldurcalm: “forever mine” kisses

Warning: Thoughts about Death, Nudity, brief descriptions of PiV Sex

A/N: This kinda got away from me. It’s a little spicer than my usual fair, but hopefully you all still like it. If you want the run down on Gwen, I’ve got the basics here.

Word Count: 1.5K

Gale couldn’t sleep. Nobody would blame him. The specter of death would keep any man staring at the ceiling. A second unconscious sacrificed a second of one’s sight, smell, speech, even the simple awareness of every intake and outtake of breath which felt so precious to him now.

He was luckier than most in that regard. He at least had someone other than himself to place all these weighted attentions on.

Gwen laid sound asleep in his arms, her head resting peacefully against his chest. He took the time to just look at her, taking everything in from the curve of her cheek to the sporadic strands of white peeking through her dark red hair. Laugh lines touched the corners of her mouth. There were just the hints of freckles across her nose. She had a small bump just below the tip of her left ear. He suppressed the urge to kiss that ear, contenting himself to simply take it in, cataloging every detail.

If they had the time, he’d conduct a more thorough examination. Their time in the field had been a start, but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. It had been so long since he had been with someone wholly in his own body, he had forgotten all the detailed sensations the material plane could provide.

The taste of her skin was addicting, made more potent with every bead of sweat he worked down her body. Her breasts fit perfectly in his hands. She had a scar on her right knee and was slightly ticklish around the waist. She wasn’t loud when she came, but the breathy moan of his name whispered warm and real against his ear was a sound he could spend the rest of his life chasing. Of course, that really wasn’t saying much these days.

“You should be sleeping.”

He blinked, his fingers pausing in their absent minded pacing up and down her bare back. Gwen only smiled, her eyes clearly tired but still crinkled at the edges in genuine amusement.

“Sorry,” he said, softly. “Did I wake you?”

“Clearly, but I’ve woken to worse.”

She shifted forward then, pressing a breath of a kiss to his jaw line.

Even that simple touch was enough to remind him of his own naked state and how perfectly their limbs were already wrapped together.

He hand moved up, curling into the thick strands of her hair, tilting her head back to allow for a proper kiss. She smiled against his mouth, her nails scraping deliciously against his skin. Without even thinking he grabbed the back of her thigh pulling her closer so she was straddling his hips. He wasn’t as young as he once was, but he’d be damned to all nine hells if he wasn’t going to savor every moment he had left to have this woman in any way she’d let him.

She pulled away, bracing her hands on his chest. Her lips were beautifully full, wet and swollen from his kisses. He let his hands wander, moving up and down her thighs, across her belly and to the swell of her breasts.

Every part of her was so soft and inviting. Her eyes closed, a small hum of pleasure coming from her chest as he continued to touch her.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was as close to a purr he’d ever gotten from her, save for the odd wild magic surge.

“Thank you,” he whispered, unable to keep it inside him any longer.

She looked down at him, her expression caught between surprise and the daze of pleasure.

Her eyes were green, the purest green he’d ever seen. No hints of brown or gold. Simply a difference in shading, forest green around the edges before fading to something paler towards the center. Although, that black of her pupils were much wider now.

“For what?” she asked.

“For being with me.” His hands moved up her body, allowing his thumb to brush against her nipple before moving further to caress her neck. “For letting me touch you like this.” Her breath hitched, her hips rolling instinctually against him. He could feel his cock harden against her sex. She was the single most intoxicating creature he’d ever beheld.

“I could never have dreamed my last nights would be spent like this,” he confessed.

She stopped then, her body becoming still as her eyes blinked clear. His hands were still on her, but she paid them no mind. Her attentions were solely on him.

“No,” she said, so plainly it took him aback.

“No?”

“No,” she repeated. “These aren’t your last night.”

It wasn’t a statement one was meant to argue with. He couldn’t imagine most people would. It was how she had found herself as the leader of their party. Her will would be done. This time, however, another’s will came above hers.

“Gwen—“

“And don’t “Gwen” me,” she said sternly. She leaned forward, bracing herself on the bed as her other hand cupped his cheek to ensure he didn’t look away. “You’re not dying. We’re going to find another way.”

Gods above, as if he couldn’t love her more. She spoke with such clarity of purpose, he almost believed it was true.

“I’m open to ideas,” he said.

Her expression remained firm, but her silence was telling. It was a valiant effort.

He leaned into her touch, placing his hand over hers.

“I want to live,” he assured, gently. “Believe me, I want to live, but my life cannot be more valued than the countless that will lose theirs to the Absolute.”

“That’s assuming Mystra is right,” she countered. “Are you going to look me in the eye and tell me the gods are infallible?”

His lips parted to speak, but he fell short. Even the most diametrically opposed religious scholars could agree the gods, every god, had their flaws. He was certainly aware of Mystra’s, perhaps more than many could boast, even if he had been blind to them for so long. The fact of it made him falter. Just how much had his worship blinded him?

Gwen’s eyes softened, as her nose brushed against his.

“You told me you were in love with me,” she said, her voice gentle. “Were you telling me the truth?”

His grip tightened around her, a sudden twist of guilt settling in his stomach. “If I’ve made you doubt that for even a second, clearly I’ve been doing something wrong,” he said, firmly.

“And would you let me sacrifice myself on the word of a god?”

He shook his head. “That’s different.”

“How?”

Again he found himself at a loss. There are so many things he could say. There were the logical reasons: the fact she was a mother with a daughter relying on her, her position as the leader of their merry band, her prowess as a caster which would be too useful to lose in the coming battles. None of these sprang to his mind. His only thought was his own selfish desires. He loved her. He didn’t want her to go.

She seemed to understand, as her thumb traced soft reassuring circles against his skin.

“I’m no goddess. I can’t claim to know every possible outcome to every possible scenario. I only know that I love you. And I’m not letting you go, not for anything. You’re not going to die.”

She kissed him then, her touch just as true as her words. He was hers and nothing, not even the will of a god, could take him from her.

He sank into the kiss, surrendering to her without a thought of protest. This was so much more than the possessive nature of a goddess. It held a desperation only mortals could feel, a need that acted as a drug in his veins. Her time on this earth had a limit and she chose to spend those precious seconds with him.

She loved him.

He pressed her tighter against him before flipping them both over so she laid beneath him.

He couldn’t wait another moment. Taking his cock in his hand he guided himself into her tight heat. Pure pleasure and a sense of rightness pulsed through his veins as he sunk deeper, pressing hungry opened mouthed kisses against her lips.

“Gale,” she gasped. Her legs wrapped tight around his waist, her fingers tangling in his hair and nails digging into his back.

Fuck, he needed this. He needed her.

Without another word he set a hard pace, pushing a strangled moan from her throat. He didn’t stop. Nothing short of her command could make him.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’m yours. I’m all yours.”

It was the only thing he could say. Those three sentences repeated again and again in different orders, all declared in shaking breaths against her skin. Only when she brought his lips to hers did he finally fall silent.

“Then don’t leave me,” she pleaded. “Love me. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t have the words. All of them became lost as he kissed her with a passion that would defy the gods.

Of all the people in the world to love, she chose him. And Mystra be damned, he chose her. He would always choose her.

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

Asylum Outtakes: Ageless Ancient and Historical Scourge of Spellcasters? Yes.

Simply cannot figure out that when one fucks around with Rory, one also indeed finds out - every single time? Also yes.

So these two were enjoying a rare ceasefire over chess when he spontaneously started insulting her. Naturally they sojourned outside and she once again kicked his pasty white arse.

Then poor ole Raj was coming home from work, and Vlad (who gets a refresh every night from 1 to 4 am, thanks to drinking forbidden fruit blood, and therefore does not need to sup, at all) decided that he wanted a snack.

Guess who was nearby? Guess who decided "not today, Satan," sped over and autonomously queued a supernatural smackdown?

Which got canceled, I think because it was a popular first season on Netflix Vlad was midfeast? So then Rory sat on the bench and looked at him dead-eyed the whole time, like "you know how this is going down, right? You know what's going to happen next? I'll make you an ex-vampire, that's what's happening next."

Of course, water is wet and Rory won the fight.

Right as the possession hour hit, so then he ran around for the next three hours looking as below.

Alas, there's no option for Rory to carry Raj home, but I'm sure he was unbothered for the rest of the night.

(The symbols are because usually before midnight, I start up the 'self care' club - which just tells them to sleep, clean and repair objects. Essentially 'go piss, girl' options. It does not tell them to throw down with vampires who have a shaky idea of consent when it comes to blood drinking and this was all Rory xD)

[c-c-cherry]

Hi! An outtake/warmup scene? May we see it? Please?

Area Hysteria outtake

word count: 3165

Yessireeeee! When I was playing around with how to start the last "arc" I was considering going a few minutes into the past through Serizawa's pov but in the end it just didn't fit (though I did take a few lines from this to put in the real thing). It's quite a hefty word count to up and cut so I'm happy to share it :)

****

It took three nurses and a security guard to pry Shigeo off Reigen.

It was almost magnificent, watching a fourteen-year-old manage to take on four adults at once. The look on his face was less than aggressive, but desperation had a way of making people do unusual things. Serizawa knew that most of all.

In reality, it all happened very quickly. Serizawa sat nervously in the chair next to Reigen's hospital bed, hoping Shigeo's power would be enough to get their friend out of his own head. Katsuya had the easy part. Sit, guard the kid, and make sure nothing happened to anyone's body while they were gone.

When a nurse came to check on them, he had to explain why Kageyama would possibly be crumpled at the bedside of his master. Of course he wasn't unconscious. He remembered pulling the lie right from under the seat of his pants. Everything had just been…very hard for him to take in. That's all.

Serizawa was starting to realize how bendable the rules could be in a place like the ICU. When loved ones were looking to be in their final moments, most etiquette appeared to fly out of the window.

When Dimple exploded back into his view, it felt like an hour and a day had passed in one instant. 

"God dammit!" The spirit had never been so angry before in his presence. Serizawa recalled how he got up from his chair, noticing how neither Shigeo nor Reigen had moved a muscle across the room. He remembered staring up at Dimple without anything helpful to say.

"Send me back!" Dimple spat, waving his arms around as if to get his attention, "The asshole kicked me out! What the hell are you waiting for?" 

The harsh squeak of the metal chair against the floor filled the room. Serizawa could feel a long coil of dread swirling in his chest. "Is Kageyama still in there?"

"There's no time for this!" He snapped back. His voice was so urgent it felt like it could break through the non-psychic plane at any moment. "You've gotta get me back there before Shigeo–"

Serizawa didn't need to hear anymore. He couldn't imagine the look on the other children's faces if he were to go back empty-handed. And if Shigeo didn't return with him, Serizawa would never forgive himself. Channelling whatever he had left of his powers, the man watched Dimple disappear again. With one hand focusing on giving Dimple the power he needed to get back in there, his other hand flew over to Shigeo's unconscious frame. 

His pulse was still there. Good. Looking over at the equipment monitoring Reigen—who looked less and less like he was "just asleep"—his vitals remained the same. 

Despite this, Serizawa couldn't sit back in his chair. He paced to keep up his stamina, back and forth between the chair and the bed, then the door and the wall. It was times like these that he wished he had his umbrella again, something to channel the power into. Something to help him aim steadier than his trembling hands. 

He prayed it was working. Dimple hadn't returned yet, which meant it had to be working. Although…Serizawa could feel his aura beginning to dwindle. He'd gotten rest—sure—but not enough of it. The constant stream of power began to lighten his head. He suddenly felt a little too breathless. Wherever Dimple was, he was taking everything he possibly could. He considered pressing one hand against the wall or calling the other two waiting in the hall to help finish the job. 

Something else happened before he could follow through.

It had only been a handful of minutes since Dimple last left before he returned again, glowing brighter thanks to the influx of power still leaking out of Serizawa's hands. The man thought to open his mouth and ask if things had failed despite everything they'd done to secure their victory. Instead, Shigeo gasped, his eyes flying open and his head swivelling upright like a reanimated body.

Serizawa lurched forward. "Kageyama! Are you—" 

Another strangled sound brought his gaze from Shigeo to the hospital bed, where Reigen began to convulse, arms electrified and body acting like he'd never taken a manual breath before this moment. Every device in the room began to go off as Reigen's eyes flew open, staring wildly around the room. His hands trembled with every minuscule move as he grabbed at his chest through his hospital gown.

"You did it," Serizawa breathed out in disbelief. Dimple looked just as excited from all the adrenaline, resisting the urge to celebrate until all the immediate chaos died. He stepped forward carefully, though Reigen's brightened, painful gaze seemed to stare right through him and everything else in that room aside from the figure hunched over in front of him.

Shigeo's shoulders didn't shake. Unlike the last few days, when his body looked ready to crumble or fly away with the wind, the boy stood wide-eyed and unmoving, grasping Reigen's other hand. 

"Master," he called out hopefully, his voice louder than the beeping machines or the laboured breaths of everyone else standing witness, "That's really you, isn't it?"

It sounded so gentle and sincere, yet despite all of that, it still became the most overpowering thing in the room. Shigeo had a way of getting others to listen. Despite his soft-spoken nature and the quietness of that voice, there wasn't a soul who would dare ask him to repeat himself. 

Even Reigen. 

“M….mg..h…” A series of strangled syllables came out instead. The hand that wasn't crushed by Shigeo's weight used up most of his energy, all to give the boy a loose-fitting hug. Reigen placed his hand shakily on the kid's back, fingers digging into his shirt as if to prove he was truly there in front of him.

Shigeo leaned forward and attempted to wrap his other arm around Reigen's waist, barrelling his head into the man's stomach. It looked like it hurt.

Reigen's eyes went glassy for a moment before coming again, seemingly confused by all the wires hooked up to his body. He was brought slightly at ease by Shigeo squeezing him as hard as he could, although the man was struggling to make sense of where he was. The oxygen mask was already slipping off his face as he attempted to reorient himself, and Serizawa watched with disbelief as the man took a weak hand and pulled it off almost entirely. 

Two nurses came rushing into the room right when Reigen attempted to rip the IV out of his arm.

The feeling of awe that Reigen was even able to move his arms after being unconscious mere seconds ago quickly shattered as the presence of others flooded the room. One nurse adjusted the technology hooked up to Reigen, and the other approached him head-on, trying to pull Shigeo off him. Both of them looked more surprised than Serizawa felt. He didn't think that was possible. 

"Move aside, please," the second nurse lightly pulled on the boy's arm. Reigen stared up at her, confused and breathing heavily but still silent. "We need room to examine the patient."

Reigen seemed to understand without fully understanding, and he stopped clawing at his IV to instead cling onto Shigeo. Both of them looked tired. Both of them looked scared.

"Both of them need to be out," the first nurse gestured to another young man in scrubs who had just entered the doorway. "This is unexpected. He's woken up."

Serizawa realized they were talking about him and Shigeo. Two nurses grabbed the boy's arms now. Neither he nor Reigen would budge, and Serizawa suddenly found himself being ushered out of the room by another pair of arms. 

"Wait," he contributed to the chaos, the beeping, the arguing, "Wait, please. I can't leave without—"

Shigeo's arms were being held back by two members of staff, and Serizawa wanted to slap himself for feeling so useless. He stood there like lard, only being pushed to step forward as he heard the heartbreaking cry that ripped out of Shigeo. 

"Let me go," he muttered, head held down. Serizawa could tell he was struggling not to let his powers take over to escape the restraint. "Please let me go." 

"Don't hurt him," Serizawa said as the man who had tried to usher him out of the room applied some kind of restraining technique to Shigeo. "They've both been through enough." 

Shigeo's eyes glowed red as they tried to drag him out of the room. Reigen's eyes had gone hazy again, and his arm attempted to grapple onto something no longer there.

"I'm here to protect the patient," the security guard replied, tightening his grip as Shigeo tried to push through it. Serizawa knew he couldn't argue with that. 

"I understand that, but—" He accepted the tug on his arm, letting a nurse walk him closer to the door as the others began to work. The light in Shigeo's eyes seemed to deepen before cutting off entirely. The boy went limp in the arms of the guard before springing back to mechanical life. 

"Alright, alright! No more fighting. I'll leave." The voice that came out of Shigeo's mouth didn't sound like him at all. It felt like two voices, with the kid's being pushed out to replace something more alien. "Show me to the door. I can walk out myself." 

Serizawa walked numbly to the door, watching as the guard dropped his grip on Shigeo and kept a hand on his back. Reluctantly, they walked toward the door. Only when Shigeo looked up at him did Serizawa recognize the red circles appearing faintly on his cheeks. 

So it's Dimple, then. He'd forgotten Dimple was even in the room as he dealt with the chaos that followed Reigen's awakening. Shigeo had a grimace plastered to his face, one that left the moment Dimple wriggled his way out of the boy's body. The nurses shut the door behind them, and they were left in the waiting room, security finally leaving them to stand numbly in the hallway. 

Shigeo grabbed Dimple by the wisp of his head when they were left alone.

"Why did you do that?" The boy sounded heartbroken, his grip weakening enough for the spirit to escape, flying higher than both of them until his head reached the hospital ceiling. "I didn't ask you to possess me."

"The fact that I could even do it without your permission proves how weak you are right now. That mindscape stuff took a lot out of you. I was doing you a favour," Dimple crossed his arms, gesturing to the door. "You aren't thinking straight, Shigeo. You can't fight a team of nurses and expect not to get thrown out."

Shigeo looked like he wanted to protest, but instead, he balled his fists and pressed them against the sides of his head. He looked ready to pass out.

"But I want to see him."

"I know, kid. I know. You'll see him," the spirit floated closer now that the risk of being decimated was minimal. "You've gotta think of the good things. You brought him back from the brink! Reigen just needs to get looked at. Then we can see him, alright?"

"What if I go back in and he's not there again?" 

Not there again. The kid must have meant unconscious, but they knew what it would have implicated. Shigeo was worried that Reigen would fall back into his own mind again. Or succumb to whatever injuries he still had after being rescued.

He was worried Reigen wouldn't keep holding on.

Serizawa exchanged a concerned look with Dimple. Neither of them was sure what exactly to do as a mountain of tears began flowing down his cheeks, gathering at his chin before dribbling to the floor. 

"He's overtired," Dimple finally muttered in his ear, "This is pretty overwhelming stuff. I can't even begin to tell you the shit we found along the way to him."

Shigeo tried to cover his mouth when he couldn't control himself. The person at the front desk looked sympathetic as the boy wiped his tears with the corner of his other sleeve. Dimple sighed. 

"Hey—look. I'll head in there and make sure Reigen is okay. Just like last time," the spirit was trying to bargain with him again. "Remember last time? I didn't lie to you, did I? He ended up being okay under my watch. He'll be okay again."

They both watched as the gears began turning in Shigeo's head. After a moment, he nodded, uttering a broken thank you. Dimple gave him a small salute as he disappeared through the hospital door.

The silence between the remaining two would have been deafening if not for the small sobs Shigeo could barely keep at bay. It was starting to wear them both down. Despite the excitement and relief that came with Reigen's return, the fact that Shigeo—that none of them could see him yet was heartbreaking.

Serizawa couldn't take feeling useless anymore as he touched the boy's shoulder. The warmth garnered his attention momentarily, as if he were expecting someone else to be there instead. Such a disappointing look made the lump in Serizawa's throat grow even bigger. He felt like a child again. Or maybe the man he was before he met these people.

"I'm sorry," he uttered out. Shigeo held his gaze for too long. Serizawa felt his eyes start to water. "I'm sorry, Kageyama." I know. I can't say the things Reigen could be saying right now. I'm proud of you. I'm okay. I'll see you soon. "I—I want him here, too."

After all this time, he just wanted Reigen back. He wanted stability and routine. He wanted to skip any kind of recovery process and have things go back to the way they were a few days ago when nothing was amiss. He knew Shigeo wanted that, too. 

Serizawa stood off to the side and pressed an arm over his eyes. He couldn't believe he was going to cry in front of Shigeo. It felt so selfish.

"I'm—" He cleared his throat and tried to make it sound like his voice wasn't inches from breaking. "I'm going to call the others up."

Three people in white coats entered the room while they waited outside and spoke to Teruki and Ritsu on the phone. One of them came out to shake Shigeo's hand, saying words Serizawa couldn't register as he tried to peer through the small door window and see what they were missing.

"He looks like he's going to recover rather quickly, but its always hard to guarantee," was what he did manage to catch. "If I'm being honest, this whole healing process has been a miracle to witness. In all my years of specialization, I've never met a man with more resilience to keep living. Humans are magnificent sometimes, aren't they? Full of surprises."

That sure sounded like Reigen. He managed to inspire others even while barely alive.

The other espers did what Serizawa couldn't. He could tell they wanted to run down the halls at lightning speed but kept their cool as they approached him and Shigeo in the waiting room. Ritsu didn't hesitate to wrap his brother in a hug. He didn't cry himself but looked pretty close to doing it as Shigeo pressed into him like dead weight. 

Serizawa could tell Ritsu's protectiveness over his brother had replaced his desire to ask about what had happened with Reigen. He decided not to wait for Teru to ask, either. He dried his eyes and attempted to give them a rundown of what had happened, of how Dimple was in there with him, how they wouldn't be able to see him just yet, and most of all, how Reigen was alive. He was there—really there. 

When Teru asked if they were sure, Serizawa could only tell him how he'd seen the man's gaze go from dormant to animated, even if only for a few seconds. Shigeo nodded through tears, and Serizawa watched as Teru's shoulders finally gave way. He leaned into the wall and lowered to his knees with relief.

Everyone looked like they could finally breathe again but needed to catch up on a few days of holding their breaths. Ritsu and Shigeo walked over to a pair of chairs, and Teru raised himself up, still leaning onto the wall for support. He looked up at Serizawa warily, with both relief and horror.

"I thought he was going to die."

Serizawa didn't think anyone had really said that until now. Everyone was too afraid of the possibility to say it out loud. Now that Reigen had truly returned from the dead, thinking about how easily things could have gone awry was easy.

"I think we all had that floating in the back of our heads," Serizawa attempted to joke, stopping when Teru's expression didn't change. 

"No, I–I really thought he was going to die," Teru laughed and pressed an open hand over his face, fingers trying to massage his temples and the bridge of his nose. "I'm always such a downer. I didn't think a plan like this would work without Reigen making sure everything was okay." 

Teru kept trying to suppress the laugh in his chest, and Serizawa couldn't help but smile. He was right, wasn't he? If this were any other circumstance, if Reigen was the one leading a plan like this head-on…would any of them have had a single doubt they would succeed?

"But…Reigen made sure everything went okay, didn't he?" Serizawa couldn't help but propose.

Teru stopped laughing for a moment, letting that statement sink in. Mob and Ritsu poked their heads over to where they were both standing as Teru couldn't control his smile. 

"Yeah. You're right," the blond leaned back against the wall and laughed loud enough to be Reigen's himself. "He made sure everything went okay. What did we have to worry about?"

"Shige?" Ritsu looked over at his brother, who pushed to escape the half-hug. Shigeo didn't smile but inched closer on his chair, staring up at them. He was so quiet that Serizawa had to lean in closer to hear him. 

"Without Master Reigen's help, I wouldn't have gotten him out in one piece." He paused for a moment. "… that's a little funny. Considering it was his own rescue mission."

Ritsu chuckled beside him, accompanying Teru beside him. Serizawa let himself ignore how they were all most likely in some variation of shock. How laughing at a time like this felt right, despite how wrong it might feel any other time. He let himself hang his head back and smile. Everything was okay, wasn't it? It was finally okay to drop their guards and stop hoping Reigen would be alright.

"He's fine before anyone asks." Dimple appeared through the door again and stopped dead in his tracks. "He needs more time to—what the hell is everyone laughing at?"

They could all use some more sleep, couldn't they?

[desertfangs]

if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

I do keep outtakes but usually only longer ones and I just checked for the most recent fics I've posted and I don't think I have any, which is not typical for me. Either that means I just removed some sentences or reworded things, or somehow lost the outtakes.

BUT I was especially looking for Look Right Through since it's a longer fic and while there aren't any outtakes I can find, I do have a false start. When I started this fic, I wanted to do something plotty that would force Armand, Marius, and Daniel to work together to solve a problem. And my first inclination was to have someone show up and ask Daniel for help. It wasn't working so I ended up going in a different direction, where Daniel finds a body in the house instead, but I don't know, I may eventually write use that premise.

Beneath the cut is the first beginning I wrote for what became Look Right Through, complete with Daniel wearing his shabbiest clothes for funsies:

Daniel jolted at the knock on the door. It wasn’t typical for people to come knocking on Trinity Gate’s front door. It wasn’t unheard of—god knew between Armand and Benji, Amazon packages were a regular occurrence—but at eleven o’clock at night, it was a little strange. It got stranger when he reached out with his sense and realized the unexpected visitor was a vampire.He set down his iPad and walked to foyer. The pounding on the door continued, so hard Daniel was worried they’d break the door. He was tempted to tell them to hold their damn horses but instead, crept up to the peephole and looked out. He frowned. The immortal was a woman who appeared to be in her thirties or so—near Daniel’s mortal age—with her messy brown hair in a bob. She was frenzied, looking behind her as if scared she was being pursued. She turned back and pounded on the door again. Daniel hesitated. Trinity Gate was, technically, the official New York Coven House, but he felt strange inviting an unknown immortal inside. Armand was out at some art fundraiser Daniel had managed to avoid going to, purely because Armand knew those people and they knew him to be with his “husband” Louis, who was in Paris. Daniel felt ill-equipped for this and suddenly wished Marius had made good on his promise to come to New York for the summer. He ran his fingers through his short ashen hair and then, after taking a breath, opened the door. The woman looked surprised to see him. Then again, Daniel was probably not what she expected, and it didn’t help that he was currently wearing sweatpants and a David Bowie t-shirt. “I seek protection from the Court,” she said, voice high and full of fear. “Can you help me?” “Yeah, of course,” Daniel said, moving back and gesturing for her to come inside. He poked out his head and looked down the street and out across the street into Central Park. He didn’t see or sense another immortal or anything threatening, but he wasn’t always convinced of the accuracy of his Mind Gift. He shut the door and then, for good measure, locked it, not that the deadbolt would do much against another immortal. Armand had other security measures for that. “What exactly are you seeking protection from?” Daniel asked. The woman was shaking, he realized, and deathly pale. She had marks on her wrists, dark bruises that were fading, but slowly. She hadn’t fed tonight, he gathered, and from what he could tell, she was fairly new in the blood. She looked Daniel over and frowned slightly. “You’re a vampire, so I assume this is the right place.” “Yeah, it is. Sorry. I should have… I’m Daniel. The official Coven Representative is out right now.” Daniel pulled out his phone. “I’ll text him.” Daniel texted “Court Emergency.” And then a second later, realized that could mean anything and Armand was sure to panic if he thought any of those he loved were in danger. “Stranger showed up here, wants our help.” The woman was looking around the foyer, still hugging herself. “What’s your name?” Daniel asked her. He should have asked that first, but he wanted to know what sort of situation he’d just let through the door. “Hadley,” she said, smiling faintly. It didn’t reach her eyes. Daniel’s phone buzzed. “On my way,” was Armand’s only reply. Good. Relief washed over him. He didn’t want to be handling this alone. “And what’s got you so scared?” Daniel asked her. She swallowed and shook her head. “He’s trying to kill me.” Daniel frowned. “Who?” “My maker.” Daniel winced involuntarily. “Why?” Hadley stared at him and did not answer. He figured the sweatpants weren’t exactly giving him an air of authority, but then, his plans for the evening had been to finish the Sunday Crossword on his iPad and maybe boot up the Playstation until Armand got home, at which point he’d hoped to ditch clothes entirely.