#so you might just end up getting drafts as far back as may

[poisonedspider]

People, posting about how long they'll wait for a reply before dropping the thread. Me:

[emphistic]

"I'm Lactose Intolerant"

Things Reader Should Acknowledge: I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS ALREADY BECAUSE I FORGOT TO SAVE IT AS A DRAFT, i have yet to get the hang of tumblr, yuuji hasnt been born yet, the itadori parents neglect their children so grandpa takes care of them, waaaaaay later is when yuuji is born, sukuna gets his tattoos when he is older

Prologue: As summer nears its end, and autumn takes its place, you find yourself in quite the situation. A new family has arrived in the neighborhood, and your parents have tasked you with greeting your new neighbors. A wacky grandpa, a gloomy tween. Seriously, could things get any worse?

A/N: Sukuna is 10 years old, while reader is 9 years old. However, Sukuna was held back a grade, so guess who is joining your class this year? *cue the confetti*

Please REFRAIN from REPOSTING MY WORK (REBLOGS ARE EXEMPTED FROM THIS RULE)

PS: i know little kids shouldnt be walking the streets alone, but lets just pretend the world is a better place

Chores are boring. Errands, on the other hand? Well, not so much.

You shielded your eyes from the rays of the sun as you walked down the street, avoiding the cracks on the pavement. The sky bled as the sun set and the songs of the birds started to come to a halt. It was a typical Saturday, help get the groceries, head home, and assist with dinner as much as possible. However, what wasn't typical was the fact that there was a moving company's truck blocking your way home.

Wow, there's definitely a better way to go about this, you sigh. Mindlessly, you kick a pebble aside and tighten your grip on your tote bag as your stride continues.

Several men in navy colored uniforms carry boxes as another man, who you estimate is a septuagenarian, surveys the workers from the front lawn of his new house. The man, who you also assume is your new neighbor, has his hands clasped behind his back and wears a green wool sweater.

Deciding to be polite, you clear your throat, neaten up your braids, and slowly approach the man, cautious as you try not to give him a heart attack. At nine years old, one may not know much, but one might know that killing your elderly neighbor is a pretty wack first impression.

The man looks quite surprised to see you approach, and even raises a white brow.

Okay, maybe this is a bad idea, you think as your palms start to sweat. You go through several introductions through your mind just to go with the most lame one.

"Hello, sir. My name is Y/N L/N. I'm your . . . uhh, new neighbor," you cringed at yourself before holding out a hand to the man.

"Ah, wasn't expecting to meet my neighbors on the first day here. I am Mr. Itadori, pleasure to meet you," his voice sounded like that of an old man's, yet, it had such a warm, cozy feel to it. He took your hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Likewise," you say, after a few seconds of silence.

"Should a girl, — pardon my rudeness — as young as you, be walking out here alone at this time?"

"Aha, my parents trust this neighborhood enough. And anyway, I was only getting groceries from the store, it's not too far from this block actually." You pointed a finger in the direction of said store.

"Wow, you must be pretty responsible for your parents to be sending you out for groceries, huh? Good to know some children in this neighborhood help out their families," Mr. Itadori turned to face a boy, probably not much older than you, who was carrying boxes into the house when he put emphasis on the word "some".

The boy had pink unruly hair, that was slicked back and spiky. You held back a giggle at the sight.

"Grandpa, I'm literally moving furniture into the house. What are you looking at me for?" The boy grumbled, but he didn't stop as he moved the boxes.

"I never said you didn't help out. I was just simply telling Y/N here, about how some children help out their families. No need to get upset now, Sukuna." Mr. Itadori gave a small chuckle, before abruptly turning to face you.

"Oh, right! How rude of me, I haven't introduced you to my grandson."

"Oh, no worries. You guys are probably busy—" You began, before being cut off.

"Nonsense! Sukuna! Come here, boy."

Sukuna muttered something, and dropped off a box by the front of the house before moving over to you and his grandpa.

Now that the boy was closer, you could make out his red eyes, and the frown on his face. Looking back at Mr. Itadori, you noticed he did not share the same qualities as his grandson, and instead had brown eyes.

"What are you waiting for? Introduce yourself!" Mr. Itadori lightly pushed Sukuna closer to you.

The taller boy stared at you for what seemed like forever, before averting his eyes to the ground and keeping them there. "Name's Sukuna."

"Y/N. But I think your grandpa already mentioned that," you tried to lighten the mood.

You swear you heard him say something along the lines of "pretty name" under his breath, but before you could ask, Sukuna retreated to his boxes. His grandpa looked displeased at that. Actually, that's quite an understatement. He looked furious with Sukuna, but he didn't do anything other than sigh and bid you adieu and good night.

You slowly walked back to your house, your arrival being a little later than usual, which your parents questioned you about, to which you explained that there was a truck in your way.

When it was time for bed, you did as you usually did. Showered, changed into your pajamas and watched a movie before cleaning up and preparing to actually go to bed. As you moved to close your window blinds, you noticed something you hadn't seen in a long time — considering no one's occupied the house next door since it was put on sale — there was a window right across from yours, and the light was on.

You didn't plan on becoming a creep at such a young age, but due to curiosity, you didn't peel your eyes away from the window. It surprised you to see that the room across from yours was a bedroom belonging to none other then Sukuna. When you saw the pink spikes of his hair come near the window, you quickly shut the blinds.

The next morning, your mom shook you awake.

You groaned, "Mom. . . What is it?"

"We have new neighbors, honey! I've already started prepping for baking an apple pie for them—" You let her ramble on while you were still half-awake.

Oh, right . . . you never mentioned your meeting with the Itadoris. Now you have to introduce yourself to them, yet again.

"—I just need you to grab a few ingredients for me, if you don't mind."

"Sure, Mom. No problem." You stretched out your arms and yawned.

"Perfect! I'll let you get ready then. I'll give the list on your way out." Then, your mom got up, and shut the door.

You yawned again and rubbed your forehead. This was definitely going to be an interesting day, to say the least.

You met your mom downstairs and she instructed you on the ingredients you needed to purchase. "Uh huh, got it. Thanks. Bye, Mom!

Still half-asleep, you slowly slipped on your sneakers and headed out through the door. The sun warmed your face, yet sent a chill down your spine.

Apples and lemon.

Apples. . .

And lemons.

You hummed to yourself as you walked down the street, passing by the Itadori house.

Apples and lemons—

"Gah!" A little rock got in your way, and you were about to faceplant onto the sidewalk when you felt a firm hand on your shoulder reel you back upward.

You turned to see who your savior was, and cocked your head to the side in surprise.

"Sukuna? What are you doing out here?"

"No 'thanks for saving me, Sukuna'? Also, contrary to your belief, other people in this neighborhood get out the house too, y'know?"

You scoffed, jutting out your bottom lip, "Thanks."

Sukuna held a smug look on his face.

"So . . . you gonna take your hand off my shoulder, or should I do that tor you?"

He looked taken aback, and swiftly returned his hand to his hoodie pocket. "I have to go get groceries. My grandpa sent me, because our house is basically empty?" Sukuna acted as if that was common knowledge.

"What did you have for dinner last night, then?"

"Ordered in."

You mumbled, "Figured."

"Anyway, Grandpa told me you know where the closest grocery store is? I need . . . directions."

"Oh! Right," you scratched the back of your neck. "I'm actually heading there right now. You can come with." If Sukuna didn't want to go with you, he certainly didn't show it (surprisingly).

"So you're actually going to turn this way, down here, across this weird looking house or something — I actually don't even know if it has someone living in it — then go in front of this—"

"Stop talking, and maybe we'll get there faster," Sukuna muttered.

You turned around to face him; he had his hands in his pocket and wore a bored look on his face. You huffed.

"Go have someone else show you the way, then. Y'know, I was actually trying to be nice to you and all. I'm even showing you the shortcut. And now look at how you're treating me." You turned away from him.

"'Trying to be nice'? Please. You haven't asked me how day was going. 'Trying to be nice' my ass."

You ignored his use profanity at such a young age, and you came to a skidding halt; Sukuna even bumped into your back when you stopped abruptly.

"What is your problem!? So what if I haven't asked you how your day was going? SO WHAT? You haven't asked me either. If you don't like me just leave. me. alone!"

"People are so uptight these days," Sukuna shrugged.

"Uptight? UPTIGHT? Please, be my guest, and show me how I'm the uptight one here." You couldn't believe this dude. He's the only other kid in this neighborhood — besides your sibling — and he refuses to be cooperative, kind, nonetheless, a decent person.

The rest of the walk to the grocery store happened in silence. And believe me, the silence was loooouuuuddd. You wholeheartedly believed Sukuna would leave, but he didn't. Which made you even more mad.

The bell above the door chimed when you stepped in the store, out of pettiness, you didn't even hold the door for Sukuna. He scoffed at that, and you turned around to face him. "Well, here you are. The grocery store. Happy now?"

"I'm never happy."

Wow, he must've been dropped on the head as a baby, because he certainly did not get the personality from his grandpa.

You walked through the aisles one by one and searched for the items your mother requested.

Apples and lemons.

You didn't even bother placing them in a bag, insisting on carrying them yourself. Meanwhile, Sukuna was still trailing behind you, much like a lost puppy. His groceries were all in a bag, and he looked ready to pay, but he was still behind you.

Finally, you got sick of his weirdness, and peered over your shoulder to get a look of his face, which was frowning, "Why are you following me?"

He looked like he was pondering, thinking of a way to answer your question. "Girls shouldn't be walking around alone. Especially you."

"Ugh, there you go again. Always thinking you're better than everyone else. And, whaddya mean 'especially me,' huh? You don't think I can handle myself? Are you here to protect me or something? Swooping in to save the day, my knight in shining armor? Seriously, Sukuna."

He groaned, and dragged his free hand down his face, "I came from a not so safe neighborhood. Can't you see I'm just trying to look out for you? If some man came up and harassed you, and I was shopping in some other aisle, would you blame me too?" His voice softened on the last part.

"Forget it, you're right. I'm wrong," you sighed and walked to the register.

When you got home, your mom ushered you inside and hurried to start on the apple pie. You bit your nails as she worked, and she quickly took notice of that.

"Something wrong, sweetie?"

You shook your head, and mouthed a simple "no".

While you were upstairs reading a book, you heard the beeping of the oven, signaling the completion of the baking process. Before you could even put down your book, your mother called out to you from downstairs.

She welcomed you in the kitchen and took great care in wrapping the freshly baked pie in tinfoil and sending you off to the Itadori house. But before that happened, however, she made you memorize your speech, reminding you to inform your next door neighbors of who originally made the pie. And with a soft pat on the back from your mom, you were off.

It was a quarter past 12 o'clock when you finally found the courage to knock on your neighbor's front door. You heard a "coming!" from inside the house, and returned your hand to its side.

Loud footsteps came closer until finally the door was flung open. You were greeted by the sight of Mr. Itadori in a fluffy red robe, and equally fluffy slippers.

"Ah! Y/N. What a pleasant surprise to see you here."

You stuttered a bit, "Hi, Mr. Itadori. My mom and I wanted to formally introduce ourselves, and welcome you to the neighborhood — I didn't mention our very much brief meeting yesterday."

"Oh wow! You can tell your mother I appreciate her kind welcome." He turned his head into the house, and called for, "Sukuna! Come here, boy."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to be a bother—"

"Agh, you children. Always the same. Nonsense, Y/N. Utter nonsense."

Sukuna stood behind his grandpa in record time, his speed surprised you. "What's she doing here?" He sneered. You offered him a glare in return while Mr. Itadori was oblivious.

"Don't be rude to our kind neighbor. She's here to formally introduce herself."

"Again?"

"Yes. Again."

"Whatever."

Your eyes flickered back and forth between the Itadoris' banter. "I've brought some apple pie — my mom baked it."

Mr. Itadori's eyes lightened up as you presented the tinfoil covered dish to him. "It smells delicious! You really didn't have to, my dear."

"It was no big deal, I promise," you laughed (nervously).

"I will put this on the counter, one second," Mr. Itadori walked away, leaving you and Sukuna alone. The taller boy crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway.

"Apple pie? Really? Are you trying to kill me and my grandpa? I'm lactose intolerant. We're lactose intolerant. He just didn't want to seem rude, so he's putting it away."

"Oh. . . uhh, I didn't know that—"

"I can tell. You didn't think to ask first? How considerate of you, Y/N."

You stumbled on your words.

"I'm just messing with you. Apple pie is his absolute favorite."

Your jaw dropped six feet, before you came back to your senses and rolled your eyes, "Did you have to scare me like that?"

He laughed aloud, "Duh. Shoulda seen the look on your face. Priceless!" He continued to laugh, while your expression remained stoic, trying not to laugh as well. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he was actually funny.

When his laughter subsided, he cocked his head to the side. "What's with the face? Girls don't know how to joke around or something?"

You frowned.

Mr. Itadori returned to the both of you and patted his grandson on the back. "Well! Thank you again, Y/N. Tell your family I say thanks and appreciate their kindness."

"Of course. I'll be going now." You waved to Mr. Itadori — feigning ignorance to Sukuna — and walked back to your house next door.

When Sukuna and his grandpa sat at their newly assembled dining table, they both couldn't believe how good the apple pie tasted. Sukuna even asked for a second slice.

Mr. Itadori broke the silence, "So, school starts tomorrow."

Sukuna glanced at his elder, and raised a brow.

"Since you don't know anyone else at your new school, you can ask Y/N for help. She'll be in your grade anyway."

Sukuna sighed, "Grandpa, why are girls so difficult?"

"Ohoho," Mr. Itadori's laughter boomed throughout the house. "You're a funny one, Sukuna," and he ruffled his grandson's unruly hair, messing it up more.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: Tuesday! Ugh.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It’s nearly midnight in Norway by the time you’re free of the airport. The train station isn’t far; it’s part of the airport. You wait on a bench between the rails as your boarding is two hours away. You sit with your luggage and mope. This new land only adds to the gloom clinging to you. 

You shiver as a draft flows down the tunnel. Not only is grey and grim, but it’s cold. It’s almost June but the weather is more akin to the cusp of winter and spring back home.  

Your weeks of research couldn’t prepare you for the real things. All that anticipation could never compare to that moment of desolation; alone in this far land, away from everything you knew. Everything around you is new and foreign and unwelcoming. 

When the train pulls up, you wait in queue with the other passengers. Some are native, speaking in lilted English or indecipherable Norwegian. Duolingo hasn’t done much for you as you catch only scraps of pronouns and verbs. Others are new arrivals like yourself but they seem much more certain of themselves. You feel utterly lost. 

You show your ticket and board. You tuck your bag away with the larger pieces kept at the front of the carriage and hug your carry-on in your lap. You stare out the window as the train begins to roll on the tracks, screeching as it pulls out into the black night of this strange land. 

The subtle rumble of the locomotive lulls you into a half-sleep. Your head is wrought with the ache of your building hangover and twisted visions of the life left behind. You hear Steve’s final goodbye, you feel the hug that was snugger on your end than his, and you feel the razor of Peggy’s spiteful eye. Even in a stupour, you can’t forget it. You hope Sam is right and that it will fade with time, yet you fear it might all be gone for good. 

You wake as the automated voice announces your stop as the next one. You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes. You’re trying to be optimistic. Just focus on work. That’s what this is all about. Everyone keeps saying it and you haven’t heard any of them. This is a great opportunity. What you’ve been hoping for all these years. How did you forget that?  

You disembark and drag your bag behind your heavy feet. You’re exhausted but you still have a trek to go. Everything looks so different than back home. Small differences but enough to reinforce your displacement. 

You find the rental car kiosk at the other end of the station and show your reservation. Work is paying for that too. Apparently, you’ll need it to get to the site. Another harbinger of desolation. 

You hook up your phone to the built-in bluetooth and tap the address already saved in your maps. The app takes a moment to recenter and finally, you’re off. You wonder if you should even be driving. You’re definitely not drunk anymore but you’re barely awake. 

It’s only an hours ride across the city, just along the ridges that look off onto the coast. It’s beautiful. You can see that even through your melancholy.  

The morning rises as you get your key to the blue paneled townhouse. You should try to stay up to reset your clock but you’re jet lagged to the bone. The moment the door is locked, you let your bags fall to the floor and stumble through to the first piece of furniture you see. You collapse face first onto the couch, unable to feel the impact as you plummet into a deep sleep. 

Time, space, and all your pain disappears. There is only the endless void of fatigue. Your mind is too tired to summon nightmares or nonsensical visions. Your body is so drained that even your brain is empty. 

You wake on your arm, fingers tingling painfully as your shoulder muscles burn. You hiss and sit up. The bend of your fingers and a shaky attempt to move your elbow make you whine. Ugh. You rub feeling back into the limb as you lean against the back of the couch. 

You look around, finally able to take it all in. The house is neat and sleek. White plaster and pale wood finishes. The couch you sit on is a sectional and there’s a match ottoman across from you. The TV mounted on the wall reflects the shadow of the archway behind you and the tall lamp in the corner and the stone and marble ornaments. 

You rise, wobbling on your legs, and put your arms out to get your bearings. You meander through the townhouse. You can hardly admire the furnished interior as it underlines your loneliness. All this space for just you. 

There’s a kitchen at the rear of the house, a large wooden island standing center to a fridge with a glass door and polished counters carved in granite. The tiles are pristinely placed diamonds in hexagons and a large window looks out into the rain-soaked yard. It’s night again, or maybe that’s what the daylight looks like here. 

Upstairs, there’s a bedroom and a bathroom. A full tub and separate shower, two sinks set into a sparkling counter, and a wall of mirrors above them. It truly is a dream but why doesn’t it feel like it? 

You amble down stairs and fish out your phone. The battery is at eight percent. You have several texts. All from Sam. You only remember then why you don’t see any from Steve. No, you won’t check. 

You quickly type that you’ve landed safely and set the cell down. You’ll let it die before you plug back in. You need time. You need to get yourself straight. You need to accept that this is all real. You made this choice.  

You’re starting over. It’s a new life and there’s no room for your heart here. 

💟

You have the night to unpack, more than just your luggage. Still, there are things you can’t let out. Not yet. As much as the blade twists in your chest, taking it out will mean a deluge you can’t quell. For now, you just won’t think about it. 

You sleep a few more hours and wake just before six. You have your bag ready to go for the day. You tie on your boots and pull on a lined jacket before braving the Norwegian summer. You lock the door behind you and yawn into the brisk air. 

Before you head for the site, you stop at a cafe you see along the way. You get an egg biscuit and a coffee with extra espresso. You’re sure to add on a snack to eat between your work. 

You drive towards the greater mountains and turn onto the road that angles up the side. You follow the curved ledge as the GPS guides you through the car speakers. The drive is two hours up, maybe a bit quicker on the way down. Suddenly, a ping sounds from the system and you glance at the screen; ‘signal lost’. Shoot. It’s okay. You think you’re almost there. 

You pull over, not that there’s much space to do so. You have the physical maps you’ll use for the work itself. You find yourself amid the lines and symbols and memorise the path forward. You continue on cautiously, reassured as you’re met with a sign that delineates the site. The plot has already been closed off with a fence. 

‘Grant land. No trespassing.’ 

You park just outside the fencing and grab your bag and your breakfast. You sit on the hood and eat as you look over the muddy site. You read the grant report. It’s here they think there was a settlement. Not a very big one but an important one.  

The rock wall hugs the site in an almost perfect basin as the slick land is barren of almost any growth. You’ll start with gridding it all out, both with string and on paper. You clap your hands off and get up to begin. The process will keep your distracted. 

You put your earbud in and set to task. You pause to sip coffee and mark the paper between planting the stakes and the string the twine to divvy it all up in squares. You watch where you put each step, the mud sucking at your treads. A wet site is never an easy one. 

It takes the first day just to prep for digging and you don’t even think you’re done. You’re tired and achy and ready to go home. It’ll take you nearly three hours back by your guess. The night will be a short one as you figure you’ll need to head out earlier, especially if you hope to take advantage of the fleeting sunlight. 

As you get back to the townhouse, it’s night again. You walk down to a fish restaurant just a block away. The faces are friendly and the food is good, but it all seems so bland. You eat and go back to your accommodation. Not home, just a place to lay your head. 

You check your phone. Back amid the world of the living, you have a dozen messages; Sam, Bucky, your mom, Arturo. You respond to each of them in turn, assuring them that all is well. You don’t have the energy for much more. 

Yet it isn’t up to you. Your phone chimes at you as you near the bed, sitting on the edge as you answer. You know with Sam that ignoring him will only make him worse. 

“Hey,” you answer with an unrestrained yawn. 

“Yo, how ya feeling?” he asks. 

“Erm, tired,” you lean forward, crossing and arm over your knees. “How are things there?” 

“Eh, usual. So, uh, did that paradise punch knock you on your ass too or am I getting old?” He chuckles. 

“Heh, yeah, no I’m feeling it still,” you mutter. 

“Mm, it’s late there...” he says, “sorry, if I’m keeping you up.” 

“No, it’s fine. Just... a lot of driving.” 

“Oh? You worked today?” 

“Wanted to get a head start,” you shrug as you play with the fold of your pajamas across your knee. 

“How is it? Is it bleak? Cold? Are the men gruff?” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess. Grey. Bit chilly but it’s not bad around noon,” you say dully, “haven’t seen much of the locals. With how long it takes me to get up the mountain...” 

“Oh, a mountain,” he echoes enthusiastically, “that’s exciting.” 

“I guess. Eats away the day.” 

“I’m sure,” he agrees glumly, “hey, don’t forget to treat yourself. Take a weekend off and hit that spa.” 

“I will. I just got here.” 

“Well, we all miss you,” he says. “Bucky especially. We got in a huge blow out the other day over the string in his hoodie.” 

“Of course you did,” you can’t help but laugh. 

“Really, I didn’t do anything. I was trying to fix it and it just... slipped inside, I don’t know. I don’t think it was about the string,” he snickers. “Probably having to deal with Steve and his--” Sam stops himself, “sorry.” 

“What? No, it’s fine. Really. I came out here to get away but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist.” 

“I know but you’re tryna forget him. Like you should,” Sam insists. “And he’ll realise soon enough what he missed out on all these years. And you need to do the same. Go out, explore, enjoy it. You’ll need to have some good stories to bring back to us here, we’re dying of boredom without you.” 

“Yeah, uh, I’ll try,” you grumble, “anyway, I gotta head out early for the dig so I should let you go.” 

“Right, of course,” he agrees, “don’t be a stranger.” 

“I won’t. Promise.” 

“Night,” he says. 

You return a ‘good night’ and hang up. You toss your phone onto the pillow and heave as you clutch your head. You hate this. Why did you come all this way just to suffer? You should have just stuck it out. Sat on the sidelines like you always did and just swallow it all down. This is worse. Being so alone.  

There’s no going back. Not now. So you just need to get through this and after... after you’ll just have to face Mr. and Mrs. Rogers with a fake smile and broken heart. 

💟

The next week goes by much like your first days there. You wake up, drive up the mountain, plot, dig, clean up, and drive back. You sleep almost as soon as you sit down. You don’t have time to mull over what you left behind, not as you catalogue every bone and bead you come across. 

You check in with Arturo when you can, just to confirm that everything is going according to plan. Often, you’re asleep when anyone else calls. You wake up to notifications from your mom and Sam and even Bucky. You should call them back but you just can’t. You can’t put on a fake voice for them. Not yet. 

You take a day off. Only after Arturo insists. You know you should. You may as well have a proper grocery shop. You can’t keep living off the cafe and fish shop.  

The shop feels more like a market. You pick through produce and meats, and get what’s easy. You’ll cook it all and package it up so you can just heat it up later. Some muffins to eat on your way up the mountain and maybe a few protein bars. 

As you trawl the grocery store aisles, you pull out your phone. You have a pile of unread notifications from Insta. You don’t often check it anyway but your curious and a little homesick. 

You see your mom’s post about her trip to the vineyard with her book club pals and Sam’s story with a very agitated looking Bucky. That makes you laugh. You scroll by some crafting videos and the pages you follow of castle curators living your aspirational goals. 

Then you stop. You pull the cart still and go rigid as you stare at the screen. The image of Steve and Peggy burns into your retinas like a blinding light. It’s there engagement announcement. He has her in his arms, kissing her, as she holds out her hand to the camera to show off the diamond. 

You can’t breathe. Your chest is on fire and your ears are ringing. It’s like salt in the wound and you don’t doubt it's intentional, at least on Peggy’s part.  

Your hands shake as you grip the phone tightly and tap on Steve’s username. You ignore the rest of his profile and the pictures you know will only add to the turmoil brewing in your stomach. You hit the button in the corner and tap again and again. ‘You are about to block ‘starsnstripes18, are you sure’. Yes and yes! 

You lock the screen and drop the phone into your purse, nestled into the basket of the cart. You grasp the bar and push the cart forward, steadying your steps with it. You look between the shelves and exhale. 

You need to go cold turkey. No more Steve, no more Peggy, no more New York. You stood still so long, it feels good to run away from it all. 

[empty-movement]

OLD SCHOOL ANIMATION NERDS, I SUMMON THEE TO ASSIST

Hey! Vanna here! So I recently, in a rage at the loss of the end-of-series lot of production materials, bought a cheaper lot I had been curious about, and I kinda struck animation history gold with it! Try as I might to pull the whole context together, I need y'alls help accurately naming and identifying what I have!!! There are MANY MORE of these, all from the same episode, an Utena one, a LOT of Nanami, and a group shot even, all following this similar formula. But let's be honest, Vanna and Yasha wanted that sweet Touga smugness. Analysis and questions below the cut! These aren't ALL the sheets, there are ones for the face shape and sleeve also but to demonstrate. Also, fucking amazingly, I also have the storyboards for this episode, so I can even tell you the shot number is 287 ISNT THAT COOL

So Utena fans. You may or may not know, but episodes 6 and 8 had very chaotic productions, and did end up getting swapped in the end. Per Ikuhara's directory commentary in the Nozomi Blu-ray:

He makes explicit reference here to Akemi Hayashi, credited as the animation director for the episode. I can't recall where I saw it now, but I know the difficulty of drawing Touga on model is mentioned somewhere in all the production stuff I have.

Now. Here's the problem. I DON'T FUCKING KNOW WHAT THEISIWEUGWEYGF what do I callll these. My understanding is the the douga is the final line art, transferred onto the cel, and that is the only thing that you call a douga. A douga is the 1:1 match to its cels in a sequence. With an anime like Utena, it's pretty often going to be included with the cel, if you obtain one. These are douga, the final line art that creates the animation, scans donated by JadeSabre and edited into sequence. The frames are numbered in the top right, and there are no notes or anything drawn on the sheets.

Now. That is NOT what I have above. So none of these materials are douga, they are...genga? Help? (This will get wild with Nanami, where I even have a green sketch that is clearly like, VERY FIRST draft of the shot...)

What I have are the key frames, to my understanding. Meaning these represent a point much earlier in the production process. On first glance, the white sheets are significantly cleaner, but they are also so far off model they're flying along with the Voyager probes in interstellar space. They're very capably drawn, don't get me wrong, but they're clearly done by someone who is not on the Dorito face bandwagon. This is apparently pretty common? You get your initial key frame sketches (genga??) made, and then the animation direction (Hayashi??) grades your work by making messier, but more on model versions of the shots. These are the yellow 'correction' genga?

The douga of this shot are likely with the cels. There are 11 distinct cels of Touga's face (others for the sleeve), guided by the 4 key frame sketches I have here. Looked at individually, I can even see where the filled in frames struggle a bit more to be on model than the key ones, even in the final product.

So clearly, what I have are some pretty early process materials where there was a bit of a back and forth about how to draw the characters. The others I have are similar corrections, but this is the absolute most drastic one. It's like they said 'just do it like kinda shoujo and we'll iron it out later.'

The question I have is...can I safely assume these yellow correction sheets are actually Akemi Hayashi originals? Or would there have been another person in this process doing this correction work instead? Would there be a way to know who drew the original ?genga? That may not be possible to ascertain, but it would be really cool to try, since this episode was a Chaos Production, since I have the actual storyboard for it, since I now have a neat piece of context about what the Chaos might have meant. This shot always stuck out to me in the first arc, because it's true that for a lot of the first arc, Touga and Saionji look....far more like the first drafts here. The strict adherence to the Hasegawa style gets enforced later in the series, but this is an example of the exchange that needed to occur to get folks on board with what was a pretty unique art style.

PS. This is torture, the shape of these means I actually need to make two scans of each one and stitch them together, which is nervewracking when you want them to overlap properly and also you don't want to wreck your toilet paper ass production materials pressing them into the scanner bed. Also several are fucking taped together and lemme tell you, 25 year old 'clear tape' don't stay clear and don't stay sticky.

Basically, any context or knowledge anyone can impart I would appreciate a lot! I know I've got something really cool here, but I am struggling to get much clear information about it, because Google is broken.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Actions Speak

"Be Silent."

Those were the first words commanded to me by the High Dragon Prince of the South. He did not want to hear me. Did not want to see me. To even be forced to endure, my obnoxious, insignificant, human presence. Any more then he absolutely had too. If it weren't for the fact that I had magic? He likely would have preferred to have me killed.

Just like the others.

I was a prisoner of war. One, which? I had no choice but to take part in. Had been drafted, by the humans. Only to be captured, by the dragons. All I had wanted? From my second chance at life? Was to live quietly. Study magic. Enjoy what I could not, before. Instead? I got warfare. Fear. The constant threat of death.

They needed me to open confidential human intelligence. Reverse engineer defenses and weapons. My safety and quality of life? Depended entirely on my compliance. And? If those reports and devices happened to be trapped to hell 'n back? By Mages FAR more skilled then myself?

Do it anyway. You are replaceable. Either you succeed... or you die.

You... hah... y-you really...

Really can say, I guess, n-now I know...? That...

That you really DO learn faster, under fire. Enduring pain curses. Fighting lethal curses, for your very life. Fire and drowning attacks. Lightning. Wind spells meant to choke the life of out of me, by sucking out all the air from my lungs. They... they really were creative, weren't they? My old colleagues.

Yes, sadistic, in ways I had never imagined. But also? Very, very creative.

I had the scars to prove it now.

All the while, as commanded, I did not talk. Did not DARE. Still do not. Even as I am shoved around. Dragged from tent to tent, building to building. Hurried along, like an inconvenience. A faulty, inefficient, piece of machinery, that dares eat their food and breathe their air. Slow and lagging, but sadly? Oh, sadly. They could not find better.

But I endure. Survive. I do not talk, so I can not offer. I give them nothing more then they demand. Malicious compliance. Nothing more, nothing less, then EXACTLY as you commanded, oh Wardens mine. My Keepers, foul and wretched. The holders of my chains. Someday... someday, this war will end. Or I will die, my luck running out, at long, long last.

And I?

I Will Be Free.

Once, long before this all, I had heard rumors. They say that talented humans, magically gifted humans, tended to be kept as glorified, pampered little pets, in the Vampiric lands. It... it sounds nice, now. To worry for nothing. To be protected. Adored and provided for, like some exquisite house cat, lounging in the sun. I could study again. Find someone nice.

....I worry.

You see, I... I think...

I may be breaking, around the edges of myself. Hairline fractures, born of stress. It's the isolation. Surrounded as I am. None of them are human, none of them will talk to me, at me. Anything at all. They follow the lead of their Prince. And he? Oh, he has made his distain for humanity clear.

Which begs the question. Why is he here?

Or rather, why am I? Dragged, from the ratty little cloth hovel they call "my tent", by the worn and patched to incoherence cloak I now wear, straight to the central command tent. Where the Prince is. The generals. The beating heart of the army itself. Dumped on the ground at his feet, I was fully expecting that to be it. That this would be the day.

They had found a better, less worn down, mage. A stronger one. A more obedient one. My services would no longer be... required.

I sat there. In the dirt. Eyes locked on his feet and waited. Palms splayed against the floor. Why bother fight? If I did THAT, they'd use me as "an example" for the NEXT mage. No. No, better to go quick. I had been reborn once. T-there was a possibility... however small... it... it might? Happen again?

Please, Gods. Please Gods, let it happen again.

But no. I was told, with judgment in his voice, by some general, to "get up". Ha! As though they were not directly responsible for my beaten down state. How dare. How DARE he judge me? I owed them nothing. Refused to die, in some short sighted tantrum of honor or pride.

I would LIVE, damn it. I MUST live. For how ever long I could. I wanted to be free again. To read and travel, do magic for magics sake. Never... NEVER see another dragon again.

Perhaps that was hateful. But damn it... I... I was so tired.

Nonetheless, I stood. Looked at no one and said nothing. Just an empty, ragged cloak with flesh inside. I am not here. I do not suffer. Unfocus your eyes and be far away. Yes, that's right, I tell myself, far... far away. It's like meditation. Just... ride the flow of magic. Do not call it. Merely observe. Let the colors drag you in. Be washed away. Far, far away.

I hear and do not hear, there. See and do not see. They can not touch me, can not hurt me, there is nothing and everything, in the Magics. It is... so... so BeAuTiFuL.

No wonder so many are lost. Drift and never come back.

I play a dangerous game, here.

But they can not hurt me.

No one can.

In here.

No answer comes then. But I am expected to work. Perhaps it is a show? Or they wish to verify, that I am indeed, doing what they keep me alive for. Nonetheless, I sit, in the corner, silent as I got to work. As old colleagues try to stop my heart, freeze my blood, rupture my organs. As burns roar over my skin and lightning crackles against canvas walls.

I do not scream. That would be too close to "speaking". I am not fool enough to give them an excuse. There is a belt I can bite. I use it often. Will have to salvage another, as this one is falling to pieces. That and a silencing spell? My screaming is muted.

Getting better at healing magic, I think. Either I have learned to numb the pain or I may have nerve damage. I doubt, now, that I will ever win awards. For my beauty. Too many scars. My arms are a wreck. My hands a travesty. It is nothing short of a miracle, that I have not LOST any fingers, to this.

Why am I here? Why? Why?

At least in my little hovel, I can curl up and weep. Emote. Can take breaks between bouts of pain and battles of magic. But here? Like a machine, stacks are dumped before me, and I am expected to perform. Do or die, human. We can always find another.

Through it all, haunting golden eyes watch. My pain, my exhaustion, all observed, giving away nothing, by that impassive royal face. I don't know what he WANTS.

Finally, after weeks of considering me, he decides to tell me. Comes to some conclusion, no input required. Why would it be? Of course. He is a High Prince. His power is great, his honor and name without equal. Why would he need MY input on anything.

"Did I know," he asked me, voice ponderous and musing, "That of all the mages his people have captured... I had lived the longest?"

I had not. But it did not suprise me.

He sat, considering me, splayed back in his chair like it was a throne, every bit the picture of a royal. A portrait of the man he was born to be. But the distain... the distain? Had... lessened. Not gone. Never gone. Gods, no. We peons were beneath him. Especially I, a mere human. But? Apparently I was not longer quite so wretched.

Our dear High Prince decided I should get a better tent. A new cloak. Actual medical supplies. What wonders.

It made me nervous. What cost, did these things come with? What expectation? Loyalty? I had offered none and never will. That would quickly become a problem. Still, I kept my head down. Always, always, keep your head down. Let the dragons die, for their stupid fucking war.

No longer replaceable. I discovered.

In the next big attack, as there was ALWAYS a next one, I wasn't evacuated last. As attacks fell. But FIRST, as the soilders were arriving. I was... was "essential personal". Shoved in an evac cart with the fancy strategists.

They started deliberately capturing mage supplies. Books and spell papers, chalks and high quality inks. Not just to disarm their opponents. Oh no. But to give to ME. I had... I had NEVER gotten supplies. The last time I had actually, truely, desperately, needed ink? I had been forced to use my own blood.

My hands actually shook. Touching such richs now. It overwhelmed, after so long, with nothing. I... I had healing books. Could actually look things up!

Curling up, before the piles of crates they dumped in front of my little tent, I didn't care, if they saw me cry. On my knees like an acolyte before the alter. Finally. FINALLY! Answers, armaments, and supplies. Relief, after so long? Was rain on desert sands. Burned skin left tender and screaming, to the cleansing mercy, of the softly weeping skies.

This, too, the High Prince saw.

No where to store them, of course. A gift given then taken away. Held just out of reach. Just long enough to give hope. All the better to torment you with it. Oh where we would we store, your useless little trinkets, human?

But I refuse to play the game. Fine. Take them. Take it all.

I need nothing.

Retreat into the Magics. They can not hurt me. I am not here. Far, far away. I am far, far away.

The High Prince, lounging and watchful, seems to have decided. No. The human things will go to him, actually, not to the fire. He watches with strange, considering eyes. In fact? I will make my self useful. Show my gratefulness. He is using valuable storage space on me, so I am to come before him and study. Prove it is worth it.

Is he not gracious? Now press your face to the dirt in thanks, human. Bow and scrape. Be glad, be honored, that your Liege is so kind.

He does not disagree, as they tell me these things. Why would he? They are his due. I think... I think I hate him. Hate them all. But the pull of books, of proper supplies, is simply too powerful. Back to that wretched tent I go. Under the staring eyes that dissect me so. Finally, I can heal my aching body.

He watchs me. As I study, improve, learn and grow. As old books are taken from me, shipped away somewhere, beyond my reaching, and new ones arrive. I desperately make notes. Hope those notes will be enough. Work and suffer and bleed. Somewhere, in the camp, I sense others.

The come and go. Bright lights that flare and then dim. Struggling and struggling, before finally going out. Some faster then others. The objects and messages they have me working on now? Are truely nasty. Again and again, I see the crests of Nobel houses and royal seals. How powerful, I wonder, have I become? Or is it simply... specialized?

A gift, for not dying.

Over the camp walls, I have begun to recognize the surroundings. The mountains and the valleys. The trees, in bloom. It seems wrong, that the world should be so beautiful, as everything is ending. The nation I grew up in, is falling. But... but we passed Heartriver two weeks back. And THAT? Was well within the border.

And from HERE... I can see the school.

The University of Magics. All I had ever wished, was to return. But... but not like this, never like this. I'm... gods. Oh Gods, I'm sorry. For my weakness. For not choosing to die. For not running at all, before it all began. I should have. But... but I was a coward. And now everyone else, must pay the price.

I stand outside my pathetic little tent and watch the horizon smoke. Burn.

Dragons are so very, very fond of fire.

Far away... j-just go far away... the Magic will always take you. Is always kind. Towards the tent I go. I remind myself, as I force myself to move, one step in front of the other? That if the worst comes to worst? I can just... Let Go. Go DEEP. So deep that no one and nothing can ever find me again. So far away, my body forgets I ever lived at all.

Just... just a soul. Floating along like a jellyfish, in the beautiful Allthings. The light and void, the far away and gone. I-It wouldn't even hurt. Just be like... like letting go of a balloon. I could be that balloon. Disappear into endless starlight...

But... BUT! I wont.. I can't! Not yet. Not until every other path has burned. Last resort. Only, ONLY, as a last resort.

(I refuse to acknowledge... how comforting the knowledge is. That I have a plan at all. A way out.)

Entering the tent, I head for "my table". At the High Prince' feet like a dog. A lovely little carpet, comfortable little pillows, a low table to work on. It would... honestly? It would be a lovely place setting. A delightful workstation. If it were not the context. The obvious, blatant, demeaning context.

Sit at his feet and behave. Be good and you're rewarded, be bad and you're punished. Brought little treats at HIS command? Sit on a pillow, on the floor, as they talk over your head? Ha ha... I? I half expected to one day show up to find someone holding a fucking collar.

If they fucking tried? I was going to set everything on FIRE. Even I, had limits.

However, it was just the Prince and I. Uncomfortable, but I could ignore him. Walking for my humiliating little seat, I noticed him watching me. Slowed. Why... why was he watching me? Awkwardly I paused. Did NOT want to be kneeling in front of a man that was staring that intently at me. Especially not so closely to a man, staring like that. The vibes were... off.

"Did you know, pet, that we actually have several rather old alliances amoung the Vampiric Royal Houses?" He said, breaking the strange silence.

'Pet, huh? Good to know he's at least fucking AWARE. I did NOT consent to that!' I seethe, in my head.

"It's been bothering me, you see. Your wretched state." He continues, completely unbothered that he might as well be talking to a statue. I stare, seethe, would give a limb at this point, to set him on fire. "You've suffered unbearably and I've done nothing to correct it, even though I could. We needed you for the war effort, you see, but now? Now, pet, we're nearly done. And I can finally care for you properly."

"Reward you, properly." The bastard says, calm and oh so reasonable, as though I had anything to do with him willingly.

"Honestly, it's long over due. The second I realized I wanted you as Mine, I should have stepped up to care for you properly. Officially. But, sadly, it would have been a conflict of interest. An abuse of power. Now, however? Now I can finally call on our allies for their support. Get you the medical assistance you so badly require."

A pleased smile stole across his face as he considered me.

"You'll make a lovely vampire. It was selfish of me, to cheat you of the years turning you sooner would have given you, but I'm sure you'll forgive me with time. Our people needed us. I can swear to you now, pet, you will forever remain my favorite, even if I take a Queen."

Horror was like a gut punch, deliver by a fighter jet. I felt immediately and intensely sick. W-what? Frozen so completely I nearly forgot to breathe, I looked for ANY sign he may be joking. Exaggerating. But... but no. W-WHAT?? How. WHEN? At what point, in my torment? In my UTTER SILENCE? Did this man "fall in love"?!

H-How can you LOVE a women you've never-?! No. No, I KNEW how.

You decide you like the IDEA of them. The shape of their body. You project onto them your OWN narrative and decide it is a love story. Fuck. FUCK!! I was... this was... no no NO! I REFUSED. Like HELL was I could to live, trapped for DECADES if not CENTURIES, the pretty little war bride of a tyrant!

The High Prince gets up and walkes towards me. Sweeps me into terrifyingly powerful arms. When he smiles? There are fangs. Deadly and hardly the comfort he thinks they are. We are a laughable contrast. Richs and rags, power and prisoner, royal and the woman who might just burn the world to escape. Shit. SHIT. I was scared of him before.

And that's BEFORE he decided he loved me.

[alexsoenomel]

Camping Shenanigans

Summary: You like both brothers and you decide to go camping for Sam's birthday.

Pairing: Sam x Reader x Dean Winchester

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI , implied smut, kissing, fluff

Word count: 4.9k

Note: Not beta read. It has been sitting in my drafts for months. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

"Camping? Are you serious?" 

"Yes, Dean, it's my birthday," Sam answered. 

"It was my idea," you chimed in as Dean shot you a death stare. "Kinda," You added.

***

It wasn't actually your idea. You just asked Sam a simple question:

“What’s something you always wanted to do but never had a chance to do it?”

He said camping. 

"Why do you ask?"

"Your birthday is coming soon!" You told him and stuffed your face with some scrambled eggs you decided to have that morning.

"So?" Sam was a bit confused. He never really cared much about his birthday. 

"Let's do something fun for your birthday. Every year is the same; Dean celebrates his birthdays hammered and dodging STDs like bullets, my birthdays are depressing because I'm always broke or sad or both, and yours��it's like you don't have birthdays." 

"So,do you wanna go camping for my birthday?" 

"Yes! And we can celebrate in nature with lots of alcohol." 

"I mean sure, but Dean's gonna –"

"Oh fuck what Dean says he's coming too."

***

"Kinda?!"

"It will be fun Dean, besides spending time in nature will be good for you," Sam said.

"Actually, concerning amount of booze and chicks with daddy issues are the only two things that are good for me, not this!" He still kept protesting.

"You're going, Dean!" Sam told him. 

"Fine, but if a snake bites me, I'm shaving your head!" 

"Yeah, yeah! Pack a bag, we're going tomorrow morning!"

"TOMORROW MORNING?!" Dean’s voice went an octave higher.

"Yeah, and I'm driving!" Sam smirked. 

"Not a chance," Dean simply said before taking a sip of beer. 

You and Sam found a wonderful campsite in Greenheart National Park in Wyoming and decided to book it, long before telling Dean. Two nights under the stars in the middle of nowhere sounded wonderful, but Dean still wasn't impressed. Even after telling him, it wasn't a traditional campsite – it had toilets, outdoor showers and all-inclusive breakfast, lunch and dinner – he still wasn't impressed. Dean being Dean - he was protesting and whining, right until you actually sat in his car and he started the engine. He didn't like the idea, but it was Sam's birthday tomorrow and he would go to the ends of the Earth for his little brother. 

The drive was long and seemed endless. Between trying to get comfortable, taking a nap, listening to music and eating snacks because of boredom, you couldn’t wait to spend time in nature and watch the stars. Sam was visibly excited, asking Dean every two hours where you were, explaining how to set up a tent, telling fun statistics about bear attacks which made Dean a bit uneasy. Sam’s inner child was slowly healing and yours was just happy to tag along. Dean's on the other hand…his inner child just wanted to get back to bed.

“This is going to be fun!” You laughed. “Dean, get ready to fight bears!” 

“Shut your mouth!” 

*****

After approximately 13 hours you finally arrived, far away from civilization. Everything was green, the sky was blue and the air was fresh. It was almost 9pm and even though it was May, it was a bit chilly.

"You will all get your tents, feel free to set up anywhere you like, but please don't go far away from the station," The bold man was speaking, aka the owner. He was a middle-aged man, very athletic and taller than Sam. Nice obnoxious smile too. "Dinner is in an hour and if anyone has to shower, showers and toilets are behind the gazebo. We will start the bonfire at 11pm if you wanna join. I'm making some good ol' homemade chips. Hope you enjoy your stay and please if you have any questions, concerns, I'm here."

"He seems nice," You whispered.

"Yeah, and bold," Dean added, clearly trying to sound funny. He tried and failed.

“He might be bold, but next to him you’re just a scrawny little bitch,” you clapped back, hoping it would sting him. 

“Ouch!” It did. 

Sam laughed.

*****

“So, do you want to share a tent?” You asked the brothers as they shared a look of concern. 

“Well…” Sam started, but was unable to finish his thought.

“Mmm..” Dean too.

They didn’t like the idea, so naturally you decided to go with it and ask the owner to give you the biggest tent he could find. “For the three of you?” The guy asked, pointing a finger at Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup. You were the last one to get your tent. Some people already found their spot and set up theirs.  

“Yes, the biggest one please. I don’t wanna be suffocated by these two.” 

The guy chuckled. “Roger that!” He then went into the storage room and started rummaging through his things. After a minute he came back holding a large black bag. “Here you go!” He said and tossed it to Sam. “That will do!” He also gave you three sleeping bags and you were off.

“Thank you so much!” You said. 

****

You found your spot far away from people next to a pine tree that was sticking out from the rest of the forest that was behind you. The hill was beautiful, grass perfectly cut, the sky covered in stars like freckles scattered all over, while the air felt colder than an hour ago.

“I have no idea what I’m doing!” Dean said, trying to see which part of the tent goes where, while you used the flashlight on your phone to guide him. 

“Let me!” Sam said and gathered all the poles in one pile. He read a thing or two about different types of tents and recognized you got the one with a porch aka ‘the fancy one’. 

“Well happy birthday Sammy!” You told him. “Congratulations on being one year closer to death!”

“Wow (Y/N), you sure know how to make a man feel like crap!” Dean scoffed. 

“What’re you talking about Dean? I praise him all the time. Both of you!”

“Yeah, praise my ass!”

“You do have a great ass!” You winked at him. Dean just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms looking offended. 

Sam laughed at your joke. “Thank you, but it’s not midnight yet!”  ***

An hour later, Sam finally set up the tent and Dean was already on his second beer. This campsite was known for having unlimited amounts of booze and Dean was one happy camper when he found that out. Meanwhile Sam was really proud of himself for setting up his first tent. It was spacious and brand new. When you put the sleeping bags in, you realized you were going to get squished by the brothers. The tent was big, but not big enough.

You liked that idea, considering your long history of liking both of them and not being able to decide. It had been over ten years and you still couldn’t decide. They both had qualities you desired in a man and were special in their own way. Sam’s height and intelligence made you want to climb him like a tree and never get down, while Dean’s perfect smile and snarky humor made you want to make him whimper under you. They were childhood friends and lived across the street, and since your parents liked to hang out you would see them almost every weekend.

Once they moved across the country you still stayed in touch - texted and called every once in a while, but your heart was aching for them. You missed them dearly. It all fell into place once you saw Sam one random Monday morning on campus at Stanford and your shenanigans started again. Dean decided more education was too much for his brain, so he opened a small music store in San Diego and was doing surprisingly well. You started hanging out again, going to pubs, having movie nights, game nights…

You and Sam would also visit Dean and everything seemed to make sense once again. You were like three peas in a pod – same but slightly different.

Over the years you learned how to ignore your feelings and push those thoughts away, and yet sometimes you'd catch your stomach flipping every time they would bring up past relationships or flings. They both didn't want to settle down, and while you liked the idea of it, you were picky and hadn’t found someone who was worthy of you to settle down with.

"Shower and alcohol?" You asked Sam, since Dean had already showered and was now on his third beer.

"Yes please."

Showering in nature was a first for you. You thought you were going to freeze but surprisingly even though you did, it felt amazing on your skin. You enjoyed the wind making you shiver. 

“How was it, Sam?” You said, stepping out of the shower in nothing but a towel. Sam actually took the time and got dressed in the wooden shower cabin.

“Cold.” He answered, his voice shivering. His wet hair was slick back, a blue shirt accentuating his muscles, while the gray sweatpants he wore particularly outlined his cock, making it hard to focus.

The things I’d do to that man are ungodly and borderline illegal.

SNAP OUT OF IT!

“And refreshing,” You added. 

“You should get dressed before you get sick.” 

“Okay, mother!” You rolled your eyes and went back to the tent.

Anything for you, handsome!

***

Dinner was delicious – Dutch oven mac and cheese. Everybody got one big full plate and it was better than you could imagine; very salty and cheesy.

It was nice to sit and look at the bonfire while eating your favorite childhood meal but soon you just wanted to get away from the people and loud noise. You stuck around for a few minutes, watching the fire and chatting with a few nice girls you met while waiting for dinner before your social battery completely died. You excused yourself and left. You weren’t in the mood for small talk anymore – Sam and Dean were a lot better at it than you and they were a lot more social too. You decided to watch from afar and sit on the porch swing that was looking directly at the bonfire surrounded by people having a great time. You were sipping your beer watching the fire go wild as the bold guy threw a few branches, making it stable enough to actually start making his homemade chips in the skillet. You felt like a kid again. The beer was just enough to relax you even though the taste wasn't the best. The stars decided to shine that night, while the crescent moon was too shy to show its whole face.

“Having fun over there?” You heard a familiar voice and saw a shadow of a person approaching you. It was Dean. 

“Yeah, just don’t feel like talking to people,” you told him. 

He sat down next to you and put his beer bottle next to yours. You exchanged looks in semi- complete darkness and made a toast. 

“Cheers!”

“Happy birthday to Sam!” You said, looking at Sam who was talking to a guy much shorter than him.

“I swear it was yesterday he was learning how to walk,” Dean told you. 

“You sound like my mother,” You chuckled.

Your mind was getting tired and since the swing was made out of wood, you were struggling to get comfortable. Your head decided to rest on his shoulder as you took a sip of your beer, eyes still on Sam. Your hands wrapped around his arm as you lifted your legs on the swing. His arm was firm and he smelled too good for your own good – something between leather and pines surrounding you. He seemed to be tense though, or at least that was what you thought.

“Dean, I don’t bite, unless you want me to! Relax!”

You couldn’t see but he just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I’m relaxed!” 

“Well damn, you have been working out then!” You decided to compliment him. As much as you loved roasting him, making him feel good was also important to you. 

“Not so bad for a scrawny little bitch, huh?” 

“Shut up!”

***

The night was growing cold and you were getting tired. You didn't know the time, since your phone was back in the tent, but one thing you knew – it was time to go to sleep. The Winchesters were having a great time lingering in the crowd so you decided to leave them to have their fun and go to sleep. 

"Guys, I'm gonna go hit the sack!" You shouted from afar, since you saw, they were talking to someone – a man you didn't know and didn't want to know.

"Are you sure, (Y/N)?" Sam asked.

"Yeah I'm tired! Good night, guys!" 

"Good night!" They said in sync.

You snuggled up in your sleeping bag, shivering from the cold and realized; since you were sleeping on the ground you won't be able to get one hundred percent comfortable so the only logical thing was to take melatonin for sleep. That magic pill could make any surface feel like clouds and on top of that made you actually have nice dreams, since you didn't dream as much.

You took one pill and chugged a good amount of water. You were out in about 45 minutes.

***

Sam's lips were on your neck, kissing, biting, making you shiver; while Dean's lips went lower and lower. You didn't know which name to moan first, hell, you didn't know where you were, but it was blissful and a whole lot of sinful.

Dean's lips reached your panties and before he moved them to the side, he placed a kiss making you squirm. Sam's large hands were playing with your breasts while he couldn't separate his lips from your neck.

As soon as Dean's tongue touched your throbbing clit, you arched your back in pleasure. He was slow, and with the combination of Sam's rough kisses, your body was overwhelmed and feeling nothing but intense pleasure.

"Dean!" You whispered. “Dean!”

"(Y/N)?" Dean mumbled, his eyes half open, even though he couldn't see shit. 

"Sam! Fuck!" This time, a whisper, sounding more like a light moan of his brother's name.

"You kiddin'?" He was now fully awake and fully aware you were in fact not trying to wake him up.

"So good!" 

"I'll be damned!" He whispered, not really sure what to do. Sam wasn't saying a word so he figured he was in a coma since he had too many beers a few hours ago. You were squished between them but somehow ended up being closer to Dean so he decided to snap you back to reality.

"(Y/N)!" He whispered, this time a little bit louder. "Wake the hell up!" He said, trying to shake you to wake you up.

"Huh, what?" You finally mumbled as he violently pulled you back to reality. It took you a couple of seconds to realize it was, all in fact, just a dream.

"You snore like a buzzsaw!" He lied.

"Oh sorry!" 

And without saying anything else, you both went to sleep. It took Dean a couple of minutes though, since he couldn't stop thinking about what he heard.

Dirty girl. 

Was the last thing he thought before passing out.

****

The next morning you woke up well rested but in pain. Your body felt stiff until you stretched and actually got out of the tent. It was cold during the night, the air was fresh, but with the first rays of the sun came the heat, and you weren’t awoken by the sound of your alarm, it was the heat and stuffy air. When you looked at your phone, it was almost eight in the morning and time for breakfast. You were alone in the tent, Sam and Dean were already up. You got your toothbrush and toothpaste and went to do your business. You couldn't stop thinking about the damn dream. It was too vivid for your own good. The way Dean kissed you with his perfect full lips, Sam’s hands on your hot skin, their moans, groans and big girthy co-

“Good morning, princess,” you heard Dean say as you waited in line to get your breakfast sandwich, still sleepy. He wasn’t a morning person whatsoever so hearing him sound this jolly was strange. 

“Morning,” you didn’t even bother to look at him as you turned around and went to find a place to sit. People were already chatting, having their morning coffees and enjoying the fresh air, while you struggled to exist. It was too early to think, too early to speak and too early to be a human. 

Dean followed you after he poured himself another cup of freshly made black coffee. 

You lazily opened your sandwich from the wrapper and took a first bite; ham, cheese, ketchup, lettuce…usual stuff. It was a little dry for your taste buds, but it wasn’t bad. 

“How did you sleep?” Dean asked, sitting next to you. 

“Like a baby,” You mumbled, chewing. You could feel his eyes on you, as you turned to look at him, he was indeed staring back at you with a little smirk on his face. “What?” 

“Oh I bet you slept real good,” he teased. His deep and raspy voice was too close to your left ear, sending shivers down your spine, all over your body. You ignored it.

“What are you implying, Winchester?” You asked, genuinely confused, not really thinking about…oh. OH! You remembered. The dream. Maybe he heard you mumbling in your sleep. Do I sleep talk? You still played dumb.

“Dream a little dream of me and Sammy, eh?” His smirk was still there, you knew he wasn’t going to let it go. 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” You replied. “Where’s Sam?” 

“He went Dora the explorer around the park.” 

Sam was both night and day. He enjoyed both darkness and light. The darkness was for reading and the light was for hiking and jogging.

After you finished breakfast, you poured yourself a cup of coffee that was now lukewarm. It still tasted like coffee when it touched your lips and still gave you that kick you needed. 

Dean was still keeping you company for some reason, he was close, too close and kind of getting on your nerves. You had a feeling he wanted to ask you something but swallowed all the words in the English language. You assumed what he was curious about, you just didn’t want to embarrass yourself. We are our egos after all, and in time we learn how to tame that part of ourselves and not let it control us. You weren’t going to blush and get flustered in front of Dean Winchester.

“What’s the plan for today?” You asked. 

“Did you dream about sleeping with me and Sam?” Dean evidently didn’t register your question. And he finally found the words. You choked on your coffee not expecting to be hit with a question. You didn’t expect that kind of question.

“You did!” He said as his face lit up in a second. 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” 

He was a child. A man-child. He wasn’t going to let it go, not until you confessed. Sighing in frustration, you calmly put down your coffee-stained mug and looked him in the eyes. They were beautiful, greener than the forest around you.

“I did,” you confessed. 

“Yeah, I know I heard you,” he smiled, showing off his perfect teeth. He was beautiful but you still wanted to punch him in the face. 

“Can I drink my coffee in peace now, please?” 

“Yes, you may, sinner.”

The embarrassment you felt disappeared as soon as you saw Sam coming back from his little, to quote Dean, ‘Dora the Explorer’ adventure, all sweaty and ready for a shower. You weren’t embarrassed, you were horny. 

“Morning!” 

“Morning Sam!” You spoke. 

“Sleep well?” 

“Oh yeah, you bet she did!” Dean told him. You rolled your eyes.

Sam gave him a confused look not getting the joke. He doesn’t know.

“Awful, your brother kept making happy noises all night,” you lied. Figured you would get back at him for being a dick. Dean’s mouth slightly opened. 

“Dude, gross!” Sam’s reaction was more than welcome considering Dean hadn’t stopped annoying you ever since you had a bite of that dry sandwich. Once he left to shower, you turned to his older brother. 

“Don’t fuck with me!”

***

The day was cloudy and cold. Some people were playing board games and listening to music, some were reading their favorite books, while others went to explore the national park. You immersed yourself in the book you were currently reading, while Sam and Dean played Monopoly under the kitchen gazebo that wasn’t just a kitchen, it had a space for everything; space where you could sit and relax, a table, and two couches placed right across each other. A multipurpose gazebo: kitchen, dining room and a living room. Well, Sam was teaching Dean how to play and Dean was losing and cursing every few minutes.

“You were never good with money, Dean!” You chuckled, eyes still on the page you were reading.

“And you’re loud!” He sassed. You lifted your head to look at him and he just gave you a wink. You knew damn well why.

You elected to ignore it. 

Soon enough, it was lunch time: delicious goulash and for dessert, a slice of apple pie. 

“Warrior food!” Dean said, stuffing his mouth. 

He wasn’t wrong. The food was fresh and absolutely delicious. 

“Do you guys want to play volleyball after we eat?” Sam asked. 

“You’re joking?” Dean lifted his eyebrow. “I don’t do sports and I especially don’t do sports after lunch.”

“Grandpa!” You said and told Sam to count you in. 

 A few minutes later, the bald, good-looking dude came to say there was going to be another party, from 7pm to when everybody goes to sleep. He also said there was going to be lots and lots of alcohol considering it was a goodbye party. Dean was excited, you were too busy reading your book and Sam finally bankrupted his older brother. 

You ended up playing volleyball with Sam for almost two hours. He asked the bald guy if they had any volleyballs after lunch and the guy was more than happy to be of service. There was a small chunk of land which they turned into a volleyball court, far away from people who were hanging out around the gazebo and far away from Dean who decided to take a nap after eating too many slices of pie.

“Are you enjoying your birthday so far, Sammy?” You asked as you served him the ball which, he slammed a little too hard and it flew across your head. 

“Oops!” He said with an awkward smile. “Best one so far!” 

“Told you!” You raised your voice going a few steps away from the court to get the ball.

As you were playing and growing tired, you couldn't help but notice how tight his black t-shirt was, perfectly hugging his body as he started to sweat. His hair still a little damp, slick back and tucked behind his ears, his lower lip between his teeth trying to concentrate on the ball in the sky – the man was simply gorgeous. It was hard to concentrate on the damn game when your mind wandered.

How does his lips taste? Does he have a big dick? Probably. The man is huge. FOCUS! 

So many questions and no wins.

After losing 3:0, you decided to take a shower and get ready for the party. You were in the mood to drink and not get nervous around both brothers.

It was getting cold, so after a quick cold shower, you decided to wear your favorite pair of gray sweats and a very old Led Zeppelin hoodie your dad gave you a long time ago.

People already started drinking by the time you finished getting ready. 

"Hey, nice hoodie you got there!" Dean commented as soon as he saw you. One of the things you absolutely adored about Dean was his awesome music taste. You were both old schools. 

"You've seen me in this at least a hundred times Dean!" You chuckled. 

"And every time I'm going to tell you how awesome it is," he said proudly. "Where's Sam?" 

"Showering." 

"Again?" 

"Yeah, you know Dean, after physical activity you get all sweaty and gross," you told him and took a paper cup filled with red wine from the table under the gazebo. Suddenly, the familiar melody of Toxic by Britney Spears blasted through the speakers.

"It was sweaty and gross alright," Dean joked and like always, you rolled your eyes, and took a sip of the wine. It wasn't too sweet and definitely was cheap considering how watered down it was.

***

After three cups, you grabbed your fourth one as your vision started to blur. Your thoughts were scrambled, between being nervous because of Dean's annoying teasing, and not giving a flying fuck about anything and just wanting to let loose, but there was a sense of tranquility in them. You loved the idea of him knowing your dirty thoughts, and you loved even more watching Sam being simultaneously confused and stunning while listening to you two bicker. The alcohol wasn't helping you. The undying need to be in a delicious Winchester sandwich only grew stronger with each sip…

You saw Sam coming from the toilet after the shower and something in you snapped. You swallowed nervously before chugging the rest of the wine and decided to toss all the fucks you had out the window. 

“Hey, handsome!” You said, seeing his face change from content to a little nervous. You'd never called him that. 

“Hey!” Was all he could muster.

“In the mood for a drink?” 

“Sure,” he said. “But only one, and I'm out. I’m tired.” 

“Okie dokie.”

Sam's drink of choice was beer. Dean was somewhere in the crowd, nowhere in your sight. Perfect.

“Cheers!” He said. No matter how big or small his smile was, his dimples would always show on his cheeks and you found it adorable. He was adorable and his lips were much more kissable after almost four cups of wine. 

“Cheers,” you smiled back. “To you Sammy!” 

“I didn't tell you but you're a solid volleyball player.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “A solid player? Really? You won 3:0.” 

“Well, yeah because you're short, and for some reason your focus was nonexistent but your serve was excellent.” 

“I'm short?” You weren't offended by any means, he was in fact much taller than you, but still surprised he said it so bluntly. 

“Short and sweet?” He corrected himself with an awkward smile before taking another sip of his beer. 

“Sweeter than sugar, sugar,” you didn't know where that came from. It sounded kind of lame, you thought, so you quickly changed the subject. “And my focus was nonexistent because of your sorry ass.” You said before playfully tapping him on his shoulder.

“Me?” 

Something about the innocence of that man made you absolutely feral. You had a feeling he wasn't so innocent behind closed doors. The idea of his lips on yours didn't want to leave your mind as your eyes couldn't stop staring at him with pure, drunken adoration. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You wanted to speak but something told you to not use a single word of the English language. Instead, you pulled him by his black hoodie and crashed your lips on his. Surprisingly, he didn't pull away, his body was stiff for a few seconds before letting go and deepening the kiss, making you balance yourself on your tiptoes. You felt him cup your left cheek with his free hand as you bit his lower lip, earning a moan from him. His nose crashed against yours, tasting alcohol mainly from your lips, Sam felt his cock getting hard. It hit him that he was wearing gray sweatpants so naturally that was a sign to pull away. People around you were too busy singing ABBA songs to give a fuck. 

“Well…” Sam said, not knowing where his thoughts were as he instinctively looked down and saw the outline of his cock. “Crap.” 

Your gaze followed and you were happy it did. He was big, bigger than you'd imagined.

"Sammy, is that a gun or you're just happy to see me?” You winked. That was horrible. 

“Shut up,” he sassed back, giving you a bitch face he would always give to Dean.

He covered his groin with his hands, looking around awkwardly to see if anyone was looking. Of course they weren't. Everybody was either drunk or high or both. 

Suddenly Sam's gaze was fixed behind you as he visibly clenched his jaw. You turned around and of course it was Dean.

“Oh there you are!” You said with enthusiasm and kissed him, pulling him closer by his jacket. 

Sam was stunned, while you could feel Dean smiling before kissing you back and letting you put your tongue in his mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and enjoyed the softness of his puffy lips on yours. He was a lot gentler than Sam – more innocence but still the same amount of passion. 

When you finally broke away, your drunk self just mumbled, “You two are irresistible.” 

Sam was still visibly confused while Dean couldn't stop smiling. 

[nmakii]

ALL BECAUSE I LIKED A BOY?

— watching your life falling into catastrophe before your eyes. all because of a boy, because of oikawa tooru.

— fem!reader, oikawa lowk just plot device, vent draft 🤨, its me im reader, nonfiction 🤣, reader highk whipped

a/n: dawg… just had liek the WORST day at school tfff my whole lunch table dropped me can’t believe i wasted ingredients on a bitch that cant even return my chinese textbook 😒

oikawa tooru has a lot of fans. even that might be an understatement. but, it’s true nonetheless. even you’ve fallen for that cheeky loser’s spell.

in your defense, there are many things to love about him; how funny he is, how much he cares, how devoted he is, not to even mention his looks.

so, yes, you may have fallen for him. a lot of girls have.

“but it’s different this time. we have the chemistry. if he wasn’t so busy with training, if i’d be able to run into him again and hang out with him, then i’m sure he’d feel the same way.” you tell your friends over lunch. one of them scoffs. “suuuure, keep telling yourself that. i watched that latest game he played in, there were at least 10 other girls who were thinking the same thing.”

“you don’t get it, you just don’t get it! we have so many mutual friends, it’s almost as if we were meant to meet, y’know?” you explain, sounding almost desperate as your heart stirs thinking about him.

and, among the many exploits you did to impress him, you started doing volleyball. “s/o-chann! what are you doing here?” oikawa walks over to you, new kneepads in hand. “oh— hey! just buying some things.” you explain to him, handing the cashier some money as they wrap up your new volleyball. “what about you?”

“ahh, just getting some new gear since mine is getting pretty old… i never knew you did volleyball!” he notices things quickly. “well, yeah… i just have a lot on my plate, so i don’t do it as often anymore.” you tell him. “really noww? well, we should play together, okay?” he offers, a competitive edge in his voice.

oh my god. this is your chance to hang out with him. sure, this was what you were hoping for, but not right now… what if you fail to serve so miserably that he ends up laughing at you? but, again, it’s hanging out with him!

“sure! i’m down to play!” you quickly recover from your anxious thoughts. “erm— while we’re both here, you wanna hang out for a while?” you ask, words falling out of your lips without your own accord. “aww, no can dooo… i’m here with iwa-chan, and he’s gonna get mad at me if i bring a girl back with meee…” he pouts. “next time though! i won’t go easy on you!” he laughs before waving you goodbye.

next time.

that meant he wanted to see you. right?

“ughhh, enough about oikawaaaaa… he’s not even that cute, you’re far too good for him.” your friend frowns. you do talk about him too much, but what’s there not to love? all that could spill from your mouth were words of love for him. she was probably sick of it, your whole class was probably sick of it. so many people knew of your crush on him, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he knew and decided to just ignore it.

you couldn’t help it, you just loved him so much.

but, nothing ever came out of it.

he continued with his life, and you moved on with your’s.

soon enough, all the love in your heart for him was drained from his lack of reciprocation. you couldn’t blame him, he has so many fans, it wouldn’t be fair to pay attention to just one.

but still, even if he never got to be your boyfriend, you still got a best friend.

“agh!! s/o-chan, don’t, i look ugly right nowww!” oikawa whines as he runs away from your phone camera, nimbly maneuvering himself through the convenience store’s thin aisles. “come back ‘kawa!” you catch up to him, pulling on his arm so he couldn’t run away and snapping a blurry photo of his face.

“noo, s/o-chan, don’t post it!!” oikawa shakes his head in distress, trying to grab your phone. “too late!” you laugh, hitting post on your new story, oikawa tagged. oikawa falls on top of your body, trying to grab your phone. “delete!” he demands, trying to reach for the phone you held up in the air while keeping you stuck on the ground.

you laugh at his feeble attempts, politely waving hello to one of your classmates walking into the store. “get up!! you’re so embarrassing, ‘kawa!” you try to push him off.

it was a good day, a really good day.

even without that romantic chemistry, there was definitely something between you two. and, everyone could feel it; the way conversation just flowed so naturally between you two when you were simply being yourselves, it was like breathing after drowning for so long.

it was like laughing for the first time. you’ve never gasped for air so much as you did when you were with him.

just friends now, nothing more. and, that’s okay.

the next day, you’d walked into school, still happy from the fun you had after school yesterday. when you overheard someone’s conversation.

‘you know, s/o from class 3-3 is lowkey… so loud. all she talks about is boys. it’s like she thinks she’s someone special.’ you hear someone snicker.

‘her hair is so bad… it’s like… why would she go out looking like that?’ you hear from the long haired brunette in front of you, turning her head to look at you not so subtly.

‘she thinks she’s so funny… she needs to learn when to shut up…’

where did all this come from?

you frown as you try to get along with your day. it’s still alright though, even if most of the school population is against you, you still have your friends.

“s/o, we took a vote and most of us don’t want to eat lunch with you anymore.” your friend tells you, if you can still even call her your friend. the shock can barely even register before you nod. “oh. alright then.” you take your things to eat on one of the benches at school.

“ah! s/o-chan, what are you doing hereee?” oikawa sees you, staring daggers into the gardens. “huh? oh, i…it’s nothing…” you mumble. “don’t you have your own lunch table? why’re you here all aloneeee?” he asks.

and that’s when it finally sank in.

“i just wanted a change of scenery today, i’m okay.” you assure him, using all your willpower to hide the tears that threaten to fall out. oikawa frowns, feeling as if there’s something else, but decides not to pursue it. “hmm, okayyyy… well, if that’s all, i guess there’s no problem. i’m gonna go eat now then!” oikawa waves goodbye, on his way to iwaizumi’s table.

and when he’s finally gone, is when you finally let all the tears fall. this is such a stupid thing to cry about… being kicked out of a lunch table? there are so many other problems you could cry about…

you go to the bathroom to splash some water on your face, eyes all puffy from crying. when you get back to your classroom, you see two of your friends, or… ex-friends. it’s just for a split second, but they run out the other side of the classroom, trying to avoid you.

what was all this even for? because of being friends with a boy you liked? you never even dated, so what harm was done?

you’re so many things; smart, athletic, quite awfully pretty as well. you have your own interests, hobbies, and likes. why do you have to be reduced to liking oikawa? sure, you did talk about him an awful lot, but never recently.

“why did everything go wrong?

all because i liked a boy?”

[mit0bee]

hello!! I've read some of your works, and I just want to say that I LOVE THEM SOO MUCHHDBRJFH and, may I request Malleus, Vil, and Rook with Lily of the valley? Thank you!! 💞

AHHHHHHAIOFHAWOIFH TYSM!! I totally didnt get to this like 5 months later i swear

Meloras Bouquet

Stuff you should read: Vil's might be a little OOC oopsies, Established relationship (Vil, Leona) old post!!!

Characters: Malleus Draconia, Vil Schnoenheit

Flowers:

Lily of the Valley - Napping together

MALLEUS DRACONIA

It wasn't supposed to happen but a little midnight stroll with him ended up becoming a “hey wanna come over to ramshackle for a slumber party”

and ofc he said yes he would bend over backwards for you

So cue to the walk to ramshackle (or to the mirror thingies?) and he is so excited. if he had a tail it would be wagging

Once you get there, he's practically beaming with excitement

He wants to be elegant about it though so he's being chill (trying to)

Originally, he was supposed to sleep in his own bed, the slumber party went into the late hours of the night, and you fell asleep.

On his shoulder. while watching like. harry potter or something

He was ranting about the gargoyles and how accurate they were, and you hit the snooze button on accident

He didn't even notice until you were already far too gone on his shoulder

He decided to carry you to your bed from the living room, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead like Lilia did with him when he was young

“Goodnight, Child of Man. Sweet Dreams.”

If you either wake up and pull him into bed, or find him on the couch at midnight and invite him into your bed, he'll accept with obvious, not very hidden excitement.

VIL SCHNOENHEIT

After hanging out with Epel for the majority of the afternoon in the botanical gardens, all you wanted was to visit your dear boyfriend, Vil

But you forgot to acknowledge the dirt staining your face and clothes from your adventures, so when you came into Vil's room, not only were you staining his carpet, but you also looked like a zombie!

Whatever he was doing before, you now had his full attention. He wasn't afraid to get his hands a little dirty.

So now hes helping you wipe your face off, letting you use his shower, putting on a protective face mask to defend against major acne from all the dirt.

He gave you one of his very few well-worn hoodies (he has like. 2 that are well worn.) and a pair of his pyjama pants while he takes your dirty clothes to the washer a few doors down.

Little did he know, when you take your s/o, surround them in you, and then leave them in your room for even a few minutes after a labour-filled day? you get an s/o snoozing on your bed, curled up in your blankets.

He was a little surprised to come back to that, but all in all quite flattered that you felt so comfortable

He checked the time (sleeping too much could cause coarse skin! or something) and once he confirmed it was a proper time to go to bed, he quickly got under the covers with you, his hands finding purchase on your waist.

That was probably one of the quickest times he's fallen asleep

This has been ROTTING in my drafts for months and I probably wont finish it so here you go 😭

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

m.list

@mit0bee 's work, please do not steal!

[syndrossi]

resonant ch26 dvd commentary

That's right, it's a series now!

Favorite line:

“They will return soon enough,” he told the tiny dragons, feeling a kindred dismay that his sons had gone riding with someone other than him. “Until then, you must content yourselves with me.”

It's not my favorite chapter, and doesn't have any real bangers, but this was a fun little exchange. The mental image of Qelebrys and Shadow perched on Daemon's shoulders, all three of them wearing a glum/pouting expression, is very cute.

Favorite detail:

Carrying the theme that Daemon noticed when he took Rhaegar and Jon on Caraxes to and from the Giant's Toe, where Rhaegar is drawn to the beauty of the world when he's up high on a dragon, while Jon is looking at those ships below and pondering their significance. It's just as much reflective of their life experience as personality. Jon without the burdens he carries of having been a leader, responsible for administering multiple wars, might be able to afford to look upward or forward, rather than downward at the world encroaching in.

Favorite dynamic:

We had a few barbs traded with Cole, but it was fairly tame. Rhaenys and Daemon are my favorite dynamic again, in part because I enjoy writing people giving advice that makes sense to them but isn't necessarily the most healthy. No one character is an infinite font of wisdom, existing to dispense it to our heroes. Everyone has their own faults, flaws, self-interest, etc, and their advice is colored by it.

I'm talking, of course, about Rhaenys basically telling Daemon to suck it up, give up on having a good relationship with his brother founded on mutual understanding, and resign himself to the fact that his brother prefers a version of Daemon that isn't real, with all the edges filed off. Daemon does in fact know his brother better than Rhaenys, so it's actually not the best advice in this situation!

But it doesn't mean he didn't need to hear some version of "suck it up and figure out an approach," because he's been reactive/passive so far with Viserys. (Some of that is out of fear, to be fair.) But he can't afford to be afraid/not take risks, Rhaenys believes. Not with so much at stake.

(Rhaenys is not without her own self-interest, either.)

And Rhaenys has a better grasp on Otto than Daemon. She's not wrong about what he fears. So that was also good context for Daemon, if he pays it heed. But the conversation doesn't leave Daemon in a great place at the end, sadly.

"Quick" hitters:

I mentioned this before, but there were three separate scenes written for and removed from this chapter, including one that was up in the draft I saved on AO3 and then removed this morning before I posted it.

I think I figured out my real issue with this chapter, and it comes down to using the wrong lens during the Dragonpit parts. We're focused in tightly on Daemon and Rhaenys's conversation, which is fine/fair, but we pull back too much for the kids and hatchlings interactions. It would have been nice to perhaps get the actual introduction of the dragons as dialogue rather than exposition, and focus in a bit more on Jon during the final naming.

The chapter feels very self-indulgent and filler-y, which may be while I feel guilty about writing it. Not that you can't write those things, but I always feel like they fit better in side-stories.

Jon naming Shadow was added into this chapter after the fact. I'd decided on the name a while ago and kept trying to find the perfect moment for it, only for it to not really materialize. Jon making it a game the baby cousins could join in on ended up feeling right.

I kept going back and forth between the Valyrian and Common versions of "Shadow," but at the end of the day, Jon has a theme.

I really liked Harrenkos for a name ("suitably long" in Valyrian), given that Shadow is a longer boi than most.

With Laenor and Rhaenys about to be gone, and Rhaenyra in Dragonstone, the poor Velaryon boys are about to be on their own (with their nurses) for a while, poor lambs. We'll see if Daemon invites them over for supper a few times. That's a lot of kids to wrangle by himself!

I'd been holding onto this, but I don't think it's something I'll end up doing later on in the story, so I'll go ahead and share one of the deleted, incomplete scenes. Originally, there was going to be an attack on the carriage on the way back, but Daemon being up in the air on Caraxes made it a really poor choice on the part of their attackers (and the attack itself a little too obvious not to have the place swarmed with Goldcloaks), so I scrapped it.

Apologies to Rhaegar, who was going to get a hero moment and possibly his first kill (though I didn't get that far).

x~x~x

The hatchlings were exhausted after their exciting day, each settling on their laps to nap for the carriage ride back to the Red Keep. Jace soon followed their example, nodding off against Princess Rhaenys’s side twice before she rearranged him so that he could rest his head on her lap.

Jon had enjoyed their day out, but he did feel a sting of regret at not being able to accomplish either of the things he had wanted to today: gaining an audience with King Viserys, and speaking to their father about the candle. There was always tonight for the latter—or tomorrow. But he hated the thought of it continuing its efforts to torment Rhaegar, especially since they were now separated in the afternoon.

“Did you hear anything today?” he whispered to Rhaegar.

“Not in the yard,” his brother said, which was not a no.

The bumpiness of the ride down the sloped path leading from the Dragonpit gave way to the cobblestone of the Street of the Sisters. The sun had set, and the sky was halfway to twilight, leaving the interior of the carriage dark. Jon tuned his senses to hearing to distract from the unpleasant odor of Flea Bottom, which the street passed through briefly.

It was quieter than he remembered. Even the slums of King’s Landing had their equivalent of markets, and plenty of peddlers hawking their wares. He sat up straighter in his seat as the carriage slowed, and the strong scent of burning wood wafted through the window. He could hear the low murmur of their two Kingsguard ahead of the horses.

Jon glanced at Rhaegar, who met his gaze with a tense frown as their hatchlings stirred on their laps. Princess Rhaenys meanwhile was gently shaking Jace awake, turning to glance behind at the window. A glow was visible now, lighting up the area, and calls began to ring out from further away. Jon stood on his seat to get a better view; up ahead, he could see buildings aflame on either side of the street, and what looked to have once been a wagon burning in their path.

“Can we go around?” Jon heard Ser Erryk—or Arryk—say in a low tone to the carriage driver.

“Only if you fancy going deeper into Flea Bottom,” the man said.

“Turn back,” the Kingsguard ordered. “We will return to the Dragonpit.”

Smoke was beginning to drift through the window, stinging his eyes, and the shouts were growing louder. Jon reached carefully for his knife, which was strapped against his leg beneath his pants, though he did not yet slide it free. It was possible that whatever fire had broken out along their path was entirely accidental, but if so, it was extraordinarily convenient timing.

The clack of horseshoes on cobblestone was just audible over the din as one of the Kingsguard pulled alongside them. “My princess, remain within. We will turn and head back to the Dragonpit until the fires are put out.”

The tension in the knight’s voice told Jon that he too believed it to be no coincidence. The street was still narrow at this point, which meant two very long minutes of horse and carriage maneuvering to turn back north.

Too long.

The horrible scream of a wounded horse pierced through the din, and through the haze of the smoke still spilling in through the window, Jon could make out the shaft of an arrow embedded in its flank. Two clanking noises followed, the noise familiar to Jon—the clatter arrows deflected by a shield.

“Ser Erryk,” Princess Rhaenys called out tensely, holding Jace tightly to her side. Their young cousin was wide awake now, eyes large with fear.

There came another two loud thuds, this time above them, and Jon could see the point of an arrow splitting through the wood of the roof, and another a foot away from it.

“They are trying to set the carriage aflame, princess,” the knight said. By the sounds of it, he had drawn up along the side of the carriage opposite from where the first two arrows had come. “You and the children may need to leave it, if the fire catches.”

Jon could hear the agony of indecision in his voice. The carriage afforded protection from arrows, but the longer they remained within, the longer whoever was attacking it could get into position for—whatever it was they were after.

Us? Jon wondered. So far, none of the arrows had been aimed at the body of the carriage, but even so, he dragged Rhaegar several inches further from the wall. The other Cargyll brother joined his twin on the safe side of the carriage.

“There are at least four with bows,” he said. “They do not yet approach.”

The horse’s screams were quieting, which Jon knew meant another obstruction on the road. The smoke was growing thicker, enough to make Jace cough, and a glance upward revealed a darkening of the wood of the roof.

“Jon.” Rhaegar’s voice was low but urgent, his face set with tension. He extended a hand toward Jon. “Give me the knife.”

His first instinct was to deny the request, the notion of being unarmed in the chaos nearly unthinkable, but his arm was still injured. Rhaegar might lack Jon’s experience in a real melee, but he stood a better chance of defending them.

[end scene]

[aritamargarita]

ATTITUDE || 002

we are so back its not even funny.…chat put W’s and 1’s in the chat. also if u catch this on ao3 im trying to fix the spacing it just ruined everything omg. (I FIXED IT)

WITH NEW RESURGENCE of WCW wrestlers, the WWF has a brand new problem on their hands. Under pressure, Vince decides to create the Invasion pay-per-view, an entire show dedicated to WWF vs WCW. In turn, Shane initiates your undercover plan. Oh, and Trish Stratus also gives you a proper thank you for helping her out. Lita isn't too welcoming, though. Matt isn’t either..

All of you had heard the announcement of Invasion just this morning. Supposedly, you and your team would fight the WWF next month, culminating in a winner-takes-all match.

You figure Shane was making his calls to let everyone know. You wouldn't be surprised if you were the first to know it, but it's unbelievable. Is the WWF challenging you guys? The answer is yes, but you know they will lose that battle.

This may have been the beginning of the end for that company, and nothing brings you more joy than seeing it crumble beneath your feet. Vince must've felt incredibly pressured by WCW. Dare you say, he felt threatened if he was going as far as making an entire show dedicated to this.

Supposedly, no one knew the entire card yet. The only thing Shane knew was that one of those matches would be Team WWF vs. Team WCW and that he needed extra time to prep everyone for it.

There's an inevitable group meeting to be called; you're sure of it. You don't mind being there one bit. You have to ensure your fellow wrestlers are pumped up with a pep talk before going out there.

Hell, you might even have your own match! So exciting. The only person you could think of them pitting you against is Lita, which you didn't mind at all.

"[Name], your hands are shaking."

Torrie's speaking pulls you out of your thoughts, and you bring up your hands to look at them.

You are shaking, and you find it incredibly hard to stop, as much as you try to will your body to.

"Ooh, you are!" She exclaims, looking over you again. "Like, really bad."

The black leathery couch creaks as you shift in your spot. You two were hanging out backstage at the next show, just as Shane requested.

There's gotta be something else you could do instead of sitting around like this. You wish you could run some interference, but as of tonight, you're trying to get into Team WWF's good graces.

You grimace at the thought. That is NOT your company, nor will it ever be. It even feels wrong to think that you belong to them.

You try to twist and turn one of your hands, but you're still jittering. "Sorry." You quickly apologize. "No idea why I can't stop."

When Torrie says absolutely nothing, you turn over to her. It's like she's examining you, but the awed look on her face is starting to agitate you.

She exhaled sharply and pointed a finger at you with a smile. "I get it now! You're nervous!" She exclaims.

"No," You're quickly denying it. "I'm cold, that's all. There's a draft in this room. I don't know how you're not cold with what you're wearing." You motion to her red jumpsuit cut in possibly the most revealing way ever.

"What's wrong with this?" She asks, looking down at herself. "If we want to get contracts, we'll have to make some sacrifices."

The first thing you say is: "…Ew." And although you mutter out an apology, you still find the implication gross.

 "Anyway," Torrie moves on. "You know there's nothing to worry about. Shane has everything under control!"

"Under control?" You jump out of your seat. "Invasion is next month! We have no idea what they're gonna put on the card. I don't think any of us has control over it, WWF does!"

Whenever you get wound up like that, Torrie would always back off to let you cool off. You'd generally sort it by your lonesome. But with how you're acting this go-around, it seemed like you need her intervention today.

"It's okay! That's why we're here." She reminded. She stands up to look you right in the eye. "To figure out what they're up to."

At first, you don't say anything. All you do is look back at Torrie. She gives you an expectant look, and you suck your teeth in response.

"I know." You say. "It's—"

You two are startled by the door slamming open, nearly falling off its hinges. You can hear Vince McMahon's voice from the outside, which makes you stand on guard.

Two men enter the room instead. They look around, turn the room upside down, move chairs, and look behind some plants.

Could Vince not come in himself? Too cowardly to come in? What a pansy.

A camera follows in right behind them, and you get the notion that you're on live TV. You can't hear it, but the crowd cheers at you and Torrie's appearance.

Torrie instinctively hides behind you. In turn, you do your best to stand strong. You try not to show your nervousness, crossing your arms so that you can hide your hands.

The two men in here were still turning the entire room upside down in search of something. You're not happy that these guys are ruining your "unassigned-assigned" room.

"Excuse me! Are you looking for something?" You finally say.

They freeze in tandem, and one looks at you in realization. They didn't care about your presence at all, huh? "Get in here!" One of the men yells out. "That's the girl with Booker T!"

With those words, Vince McMahon himself storms right into the room. You push Torrie even further behind you when he enters.

"Where the hell is Booker T?!" He gives the room a once over and then turns toward you. "You! You would know! Where is he?!"

"…. He's not here." You answer. The sound of shuffling makes you turn your head to the right. One of the men decided to toss your bag across the floor. "Hey! Watch it, that's mine! What the hell is wrong with you?" 

He slowly turns around. "What?"

"You heard me! "Whoever this guy was, your patience was already running thin. "Don't you have any manners? Pick it up!"

"I'm not picking that damn thing up." He says. Now that you get a better look at him, he looks exactly like the figure you saw at WWF New York.

If your memory serves you correctly, this is Stone Cold Steve Austin. Who just threw your very expensive bag on the floor?

The other guy with medals around his neck leans down and picks it up instead. "Here you go." He reaches it out toward you.

"Kurt, what the hell are you doing?!" He yelled. "She's a WCW girl! You [Name]?"

"Oh." Kurt falters, then drops your bag right onto the floor. Again.

"That's me, yeah." Though you confirm your identity, you feel exasperated. The crowd can't help but laugh. "…Please." You beg. "STOP DROPPING MY BAG." You kneel to pick it up and gently place it on the couch behind you. This time, they won't throw it around as if it had no value.

After that whole debacle, the question remains. "Well, where is he?" Vince asks. You narrow your eyes at him.

It takes everything, and you mean everything, not to insult him. It's all too easy to beat everyone up with a makeshift weapon and leave with Torrie for the rest of the night.

"You didn't hear me before? I said, I don't know." You repeat. "Maybe you should open up your ears, ol—"

"W-We don't know, Mr. McMahon!" Torrie cuts you off quickly. It's for the best. "You see, we're so glad you came here. Our contracts are expiring, and we were looking for something new."

You're sure that they were suspicious. After you attacked Lita, you weren't sure they'd go through with her idea. Torrie, sure. You already know she'll get in because she wasn't guilty, and newsflash: she's also attractive.

You, you're not sure. Obviously, you're attractive, but you may have ruined your chance by jumping on Lita like that. You decide to decorate your white lie with another.

"I just don't want to be a leader. I was told to do that to Lita, and I feel horrible. I don't want to be involved with WCW." You kick up your act to 100 by forcing tears to spring to your eyes, which sells it more. "Shane may even fire me for talking to you…"

"That's what you get when you deal with those classless WCW folk," Kurt snidely remarked, shaking his head. "Am I right, fellas?"

Vince and Austin look at each other for a moment, then nod their heads. Then, Kurt turns to you with his hand out.

"Hi, [Name]. Nice to meet you. I'm Kurt Angle, Olympic gold medalist." He reaches his hand out for you to shake, and you use your non-wet hand to shake it. Sorry about your bag." 

Guess an apology is a good way to start.

"Hello. It's fine." You shake his hand quickly and then return to your sob story. "I guess you're right. That company is classless." 

Torrie rubs your shoulder. "It's okay. It's okay, [Name]." She then turns to Vince. "Will you consider it?"

He's still not convinced. "And you are…..?"

She fills in the blank for him. "Torrie Wilson. From WCW. We would be so honored to work with you."

'We?' You think. Torrie must've been taking French classes. 

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Seeing as no one's jumping out at them, all three men relax at her words.

"I might be able to tell you where I think he is." When you say that, all three men perk up toward you.

Torrie looks alarmed but quickly calms down in fear of getting caught. You try to reassure her by patting the hand she kept on your shoulder.

"My only request is that you consider hiring us when our contracts go down the drain."

Honestly, you don't know where Booker T is, but you still try to compromise to get in good with them.

"Alright then. I'll do it. But Torrie, it's good to meet you. Very, very good." Vince was clearly trying to make moves on your blonde friend. "Maybe this weekend, dinner?"

Before Torrie can respond, you're quick to answer him. " We," You emphasize, "—can meet you at the show. No dinner, sorry. I don't think we'll be hungry."

Austin is pleased to hear it. "That sounds good. We don't need her. Then we'll go to dinner, Vince. I'll clear my schedule."

Kurt immediately jumps on the bandwagon. "Me too. I'll be there."

Austin shakes his head. "…We don't need you."

You clear your throat, making everyone look at you. "If you wanna know, I'm 99% sure Booker T is somewhere in the locker rooms. He could be looking for you guys like you're looking for him."

You can see them get all hyped up at your reveal, so you hope that was the push so they can get the fuck out of here.

Kurt is the only one who thanks you; he mutters it while vigorously shaking your hand one last time.

And thankfully, it was the push. They weren't sticking around for too long. At the very least, the three bid you and Torrie a quick goodnight and bolted out the door.

It must be important to find him. It's too bad you pointed them in the wrong direction. You knew that he wasn't anywhere near the stadium yet.

The more they looked, the more they wouldn't expect his appearance. They'll think he's not there at all, and the next time they're defenseless…WHAM! They won't see it coming!

God, you need to find a way to top that. Booker T is beating you in that department! You pray that Shane wouldn't actually get rid of you because you weren't performing up to standard.

You've got this. All you have to do is start plotting in your hotel room. You won't ask Shane what he thinks should be done. You'll spring the idea on him instead.

You wipe the crocodile tears, swiping a few fingers under your eye to not smudge the makeup you had on. Torrie walks over to the door and peeks out to ensure they're gone. She gently closes the door behind her afterward.

"When they came in, you looked like you were about to scream." She says.

You snicker. "I wish I could tell you how uncomfortable that entire exchange made me. Starting from pretending I'm something I'm not to that McMahon being around making me gag."

"I could've handled it myself." She starts. "But I still appreciate you saying something. We definitely wouldn't have gotten those contracts if you said anything more than that."

Yes, sometimes you could say some crazy things, but it's not always your intention to! Things tend to slip out of your mouth. You're just speaking your truth…

People have told you before that you like to speak about what's on your mind. Whether that was bad or good was always left to your interpretation.

"Pretty much. Anyway, we should split up." You suggest. "I'm going to try to apologize to Lita. Maybe I can find other people in the meantime."

"Oooh, you're finally deciding to make friends! Now you don't need to bother me and Stacy anymore." Torrie teased.

"I'm not gonna be friends with anyone in here!" You clarify. Seriously, you wouldn't be caught dead hanging with someone from here. "Besides, you guys love me and would get jealous of seeing me with anyone else."

She smiles at you. "Hmm, we get jealous? I'll have to get back to you on that."

You try to stay in your itty bitty circle for the most part, but you have no qualms about hanging out with coworkers.

Now, people from the WWF? No way. You don't think they could replicate the charm that the others had. Sure, people like Sting would stare creepily at you as you played chess. That was neat, but you can't beat him to this day!

You learn things, too. People like Randy Savage would yell at you and tell you to raise your voice to present yourself better. Fun!

And then you had people like Mona, who was friendly and calm. She's given you advice many times. It was a change of pace from the energetic characters you surrounded yourself with. 

You think there's no competition.

You move past Torrie and open the door, peaking your head down the hallway. There is someone not too far away. It's not Kurt, Vince, or Austin. It's someone else.

He's blonde, and he's holding something almost obnoxiously large. From this distance, it's safe to assume it's a trophy.

You retreat into the room. "And just like that, I already see my first target. How about I meet you back here when the show's over?"

"Fine with me." She agreed. "You know, I saw a Friday's on Time Square. Do you want to go after the show? Oh, oh, and who was it at the door?"

"I don't see why not." You don't mind hanging out. Not one bit. "And I think you're asking the wrong person. I can tell he's not a part of our team. He was blonde, and I think he was holding a trophy. No clue who that is. I need Shane to run me down on these people. I only know Trish, Lita, Matt, and the Big Show from him. I think I know the commentators, too?"

Shane was only telling you important information, so you figured these other randoms were less important to be known by you.

"Oooh, he's blonde?" Torrie's got that knowing sound in her voice, and you groan. "That's totally your type, [Name]. Everyone backstage used to say that you loved the blondes."

You look at her incredulously. "You're joking." Because she had to be. Who would even say that? It's not your fault that 80% of your friends had that hair color.

"Hehe. Yeah, I am. Wait, come here! If you want his attention, you've gotta oil up the good bits! Also, I think you need to wear something else!" Torrie exclaimed, dashing over to her bag.

Nuh-uh. No way. Not this time. She will NOT make you her Barbie doll again. You let the woman recommend clothes to you once and now she thinks she's your stylist!

"Torrie, what the hell do you mean oil up?! Leave me alone!" You exclaim. "I've gotta get this guy before he leaves!"

She's got the bottle in her hands, shooting you a pout. "Fine. But can't you lift your shirt just a little so that—"

"If you say anything else, I swear to god I will get you." You threaten, pointing a finger at her.

She backs off, holding her hands up to you. "Touchy!"

Saying nothing else to her, you open the door and walk down the hallway to approach this stranger.

You remember to keep a puzzled look on your face, then look around the room, all confused. The more ditzy you act, the more men will feel inclined to help you.

You let out an aggravated sigh, which is the one thing that caught his attention. He shifts the trophy in his hand to take a better look at you and then takes a few steps back in alarm.

"Woah, rogue WCW woman spotted. Don't attack me." He says. "I'm armed." He holds out the trophy to you warily, then pokes your stomach with one of the tiny metal prongs of the trophy.

"Ow—not a threat!" As plastic as those prongs were, they hurt like hell.  You feign panic, throwing your hands up. "I'm not a threat. I was just looking for someone! I want to tell Lita I'm sorry. Have you seen her?"

He's not sold at all, considering you cracked her head open the other day. "You want to say you're sorry? Listen, I don't care how tempting you are, I won't fall for whatever you've got going on. You're gonna try and take her out!"

This guy may have got the wrong idea. You're not into seducing him. Not yet, anyway.

"Thank you," You accept the compliment. "I, and probably you, have no idea what you're going on about." He may be in his head about you. "I'm only here to make amends because my contract may expire. I'll be out of work and out of a leader spot in no time."

They'd have to pry you from Shane's cold, dead hands. You don't have a choice but to hold onto the lie that your contract is ending soon.

"That sucks." He outright says, using a hand to comb through the top of his hair. "Uh, I mean, I'm sorry to hear that." He genuinely did seem apologetic, so he may be falling for it.

You’re still trying to be nice. "I'm [Name], but with you knowing what I did to Lita, you might already know."

"Yeah," He nods. "People've been talking about you beating up Lita. They're wondering what they're gonna do now. You're kinda gutsy for even showing up tonight. I'm Edge." He feels it's only fitting for him to introduce himself back, but it's easy to see that he's hesitant.

You smile anyway. Your following words are honeyed when you speak them. "Hi, Edge. Good to meet you. I'm gonna remind you that I mean no harm, seriously. After I talk to Lita, I'll even leave the arena. Are you sure you don't know where she is?"

"Lita.." Edge repeats, looking away from you for a second. "She might be with the Hardy Boys. I'm pretty sure."

It's part of a confession, making you think he had been holding back due to his suspicion.

"Hardy Boys, huh? Ah, do you know where catering is?" You ask. "I got so lost, completely forgot how big the Garden is." It's an exaggeration, but you should get some directions while you're at it.

…This is partly because you're hungry too.

Will the WWF's food hold its own against WCW catering? You need to put it to the test. You won't lie; your company had some of the best food by far.

It's not like you could put anything else to the test anyway. You hadn't even gotten a chance to get started on those local circuits because you took the chance and signed up for the Powerplant instead. It may have been too early, but it's gotten you far enough to be handed that beautiful contract.

It's not like you minded, you practically grew up watching it with relatives. Calling home with the exciting news was returned with happiness and playful jealousy.

Edge turns and points down the hallway. "Should it be that way to your left? Could be wrong, so don't come back trying to attack me."

You wave him off. "I won't. I think I'll give you a suplex. How does that sound to you?"

"I think I'd be the one doing that to you, [Name]." He countered. "You look pretty easy to carry."

"Edge! Been lookin' for you, man. Where'd you go?" Another voice makes you turn around to see yet another blonde man with goggles approaching you, and you fight the urge to throw your arms up in exasperation.

Maybe Torrie was right. You're not beating the blonde-lover allegations. You're losing… she's winning!! You hate it!

He looks over toward you, eyeing you up and down. Then he comes closer to Edge, muttering something else. "Who's that?"

"[Name], this is Christian, my brother." Edge introduces. "Christian, this is [Name]."

Brother, huh?

Christian looks between the two of you incredulously, then settles his eyes on Edge. "Wait, this is the chick that—"

The both of you say the end at the very same time. "…smashed Lita's head into the ground." You already knew it was coming. "Yes. That's me."

"Guess it's obvious then." He snickered.

"I may have done it, but it wasn't my intention." For a second, you pause because it was. There's no way it was just a freak accident. "It wasn't my intention to make her my enemy." You correct. "All I wanted to do was say sorry about it. It was all a misunderstanding on my end. Maybe we can work together against WCW."

You're trying your best to present yourself as a charity case towards them, and they, along with the others, are taking the easy bait.

He's not as apologetic as Edge was, but Christian still shakes his finger at you. "Work together, eh? You know what? She could help us, Edge. Those Hardy's, you know we've been feuding since 1999."

He then turns to you. "[Name], it's a big thing."

"What was the last time we won, last month?" Edge asks.

Christian takes a second to think about it and then replies. "Yeah, man. It was us and Rhyno. Eddie tagged along with them. Then we lost to him and Jeff. Remember?"

"Yep. Something happened every time." Edge reminisces about those matches. "We won that first one, sure, but Lita kept getting in the way."

"Exactly." Christian's leading up to something with this. "I hate to say it, but they've got us beat, man. We never got someone to deal with Lita, and she's done that hurricanrana crap to both of us! That's what usually messes us up." Christian continued to explain.

"If we have her…" Edge vigorously nods his head, waving his finger back at him. "I see where you're going with this man."

This was perfect! You swear you'd kiss Christian if you could. He's got you right where you need to be for the most part. A smile grows on Edge's face. "She can get rid of Lita! Dude, you're like, genius level of genius."

Genius level of genius? That’s original.

Christian takes that trophy out of Edge's hands for some reason. He snugly adjusts it in his arms, holding it as if he wouldn't let go.

Neither you nor Edge question it; they are more interested in getting rid of those Hardy Boys once and for all.

Well, you're only partly in on their fantasy. You had no idea how their feud went! The only question you have to ask is, "Are you guys going to be able to get us on the card for that?"

"You don't have to worry about that, [Name]. As the King of the Ring winner, I'll make sure it gets done!" Edge exclaims.

Aha! No wonder he had that trophy. It makes sense, but you're not sure how big of an achievement it was. As long as it got you on the card, you're good.

"Commissioner Regal is a real pain. Are you sure you're gonna be able to do it, dude?" Christian asks. "You know, it's always the Brits. He acts like he's got a stick up his ass."

"Don't worry about it. Me and you will go into his office." Edge pats his shoulder. "We'll get that match in no time."

You're down. "Okay then. You guys tell me when we go. I'll be ready. Edge, you said catering was down that way, right?"

He gives you a thumbs up, and you say goodbye. Maybe you'll see them more in the future, especially since you're teaming up now.

You turn your head behind you and see they're still watching you go. You decide to give them one final wave for real. Before you get to catering, you wait until you're a reasonable distance to pull out your phone and dial Shane up.

It's a quick detour, hitting a sharp left in the hallway. You're met with another room nearby, a gift from whatever god was out there, the janitor's closet.

It would be better to finish the call there, wouldn't it? No curious eyes, no listeners. It'll just be you. 

Your paranoia starts to spike because you're already peeking around the corner to see if anyone's there. The coast may be clear, but you won't take your chances. Closet it is.

You've already got your phone in your hand as you open the door. The only thing that would keep you company now were the cleaning supplies lined up on the shelves. 

You're already dialing Shane up once you close the door behind you. Most of your paranoia has subsided after closing it, and you keep your hand on the doorknob to ensure that no one else opens it to interrupt you.

Your back is turned, but what more should you be afraid of? Those mops and brooms? If anyone saw you going in, you'd say you needed some fresh air alone. Something like that.

"I wasn't expecting any company."

"My god!" You instinctively yell, jumping out of your skin. Goddamn it! Why would anyone be in the dark, in the janitor's closet of all places?! Your hand reaches for the light switch, flipping it on as soon as your fingers land on it. 

Just your luck. You walk into a squatter's home. You turn behind you to see a man sitting before you, slumped over with his curly hair falling in front of his eyes. "[Name], isn't it?"

Your hand is still on the doorknob. Would it be wrong to say you don't think you can leave yet? He knows your name. You're still alert. "Um, maybe. Why in the hell are you in here alone?" Other than being a total creep.

"Doing drugs. You want?"

He offers it to you so casually! You're taken aback, and it takes you a minute to reply. "No!"

"Relax, I'm joking. You're not a cop, are you? All I am here for is the silence. It's the only thing I can ever find peace of mind in." He says. 

You look at him and nod. "Right. Yeah. Okay. Well, this was all an accident. I have a really important call, so I'm gonna have to leave. Although a word of advice, maybe some pink would be good for your decor."

You're turning away from him, but he's saying something else the next thing you know.

"WCW shouldn't be alone in this fight. We need to take this company down. The WWF is fated to fall."

He makes you turn back around curiously. This may not be a squatter after all; he knows about WCW.

"Who exactly are you?"

As soon as you ask that question, the phone picks up. Shane's voice is loudly on the speaker, "Hello, [Name]? Are you alright?"

You immediately hold the phone to your ear. "What? Yeah. I'm fine. Can I call you back?"

"It's good to know it’s actually your name," the man says, setting his hands on his ankles to stand up from his spot. "Don't hang up now. The show's just starting." He comes closer to you, and you're already trying to hit buttons on your phone for some privacy.

"Don't suppose that's Shane McMahon on the phone? Let me talk to him. We're close. Real close." There's supposed to be excitement in his voice, yet it's delivered to you in the most monotone way possible.

"No, you can't talk to him! I mean, it's not Shane!" You try to cover your tracks, holding out your hand to him. "I have to go, so go do your drugs or whatever you were up to."

He doesn't leave you alone, instead reaching over and snatching the phone out of your hands. He lifts the phone in the air so you can't reach it, then turns away.

"Shane, can you hear me?" He asks, pulling the phone closer to his mouth. "Remember me?"

There's silence at first, and then Shane's voice comes from the phone. "Oh! Hey, Scotty! How're you doing?" You're in complete disbelief.

"You know this guy?!" You exclaim. "Shane, are you pranking me right now?!"

"I don't go by that anymore. It's Raven now. I'll be the first to tell you that ECW wants in. We've seen what's been going on."

"ECW as in Extreme Championship Wrestling?" Do they really want in? Any help is good, and it'd be two against one. You're not entirely against the idea. "Wait, give me my phone back! This isn't for you!"

"You're with [Name] right now?"

"Yeah. She's pretty aggressive. It goes to show what kind of women you surround yourself with, Shane." He comments.

"Who in the world told you that?" You ask, ignoring his snide remark. "Are you ECW's leader or something? I bet you don't have as much authority as I do."

"Okay, okay. There's no need to fight, guys." Shane is trying to be a peacemaker, doing his best to ease any tension. "Raven, if you can clue Paul Heyman in, we can discuss this in more detail in person. My invitation is extended to you, but I need to speak with [Name] for now. We can't proceed unless I talk with her first."

Thank god Shane was on your side. You can't fight the cheeky smile as you expectantly hold your hand out.

"Fine. I'll be the person to spread the message to him. The sooner, the better. Besides, no one wants to keep this outdated Nokia anyway." The sarcasm in his voice is the first emotion you've heard from him.

And you groan in response. For the love of god! Everyone needs to leave the Nokia alone! Raven begrudgingly hands it over and turns over to the door.

You'd think he'd say something else to you, but he only gives you one last glance before leaving.

"And stay out!" You yell behind him, slamming your palm onto the door.

"It's a pleasure to hear your voice, [Name]," Shane says. "I'm assuming you didn't just call me for some casual conversation before you were interrupted. What's going on?"

"Right, right. Before, I was so rudely interrupted." You say. "I ran into this guy Edge and his brother, Christian. They wanted me to team up with them to get rid of Lita. I figured it was a good opportunity to get myself out there. I'm also on my way to apologize to her after I finish talking to you. Is that alright?"

"Is what alright? You apologizing? I was the one that recommended you should—"

"No, no, that I'm even here. You called me a part of your dream team. Torrie told them our contracts were expiring soon. I played off that, but any smart person wouldn't get rid of their leader that fast. I don't want them to doubt me." At the end, you let out a sharp sigh.

Thanks to your explanations, no one's questioning you, but it's pretty easy to get caught up in a lie you tell.

"You worry a lot!" He laughs again, and you furrow your brows. "It'll be fine. A lot of those wrestlers aren't smarter than a bag of rocks. Trust me, I know this for a fact. My father's not any smarter. He has no idea what's coming to him, especially with ECW possibly helping us."

Talk about throwing people under the bus. It seems Shane's pretty relentless when it comes to his old employees. You're just glad you're not on the receiving end. Shane's been here longer than you, so you have no choice but to believe him.

However, you still feel hesitant. "Are you really sure?"

"How about this, then. I keep Torrie so she and Stacy can feud with Trish and Lita; you continue to play nice with the WWF since you're already there. You let them think that you're working your way to betray us when, in actuality, you're going to betray them."

Keeping Torrie after she told them that your contracts were expiring? That would be risky, along with you slotting into the roster. But you'll try and conform to it. "Okay, okay." You agree. "I think I can do that."

"Have some faith in me." It's like he can sense your hesitation. "More importantly, have some faith in yourself, [Name]. Was that all?"

The only thing you can do is try. "Yeah, I'll talk to you when I hear anything new."

"Alright then, you take care, [Name]."

Ending the call with those final words, you shove your phone back into your pocket. As much as you want to take a second to breathe, Lita's the next person on your list.

Opening the closet door, you head straight towards the double doors of catering. Oh boy, you hope Lita's in here. If not, you'll have to continue your journey elsewhere. You don't have all night, though.

You're met with a few unfamiliar faces when you open the door. They stare at you in confusion, which quickly turns into alarm. Some people even stand up from their seats.

You come in peace, for now! "Everyone can relax. I want to be on your side now. I came to apologize." You don't even beat around the bush.

Most are suspicious but still get back into their seats. What were they going to do anyway? You could defend yourself with one of these chairs if you needed to.

Scanning the room, you find the woman of the hour looking at you with wide eyes. You immediately approach her. A relieved smile appears on your face as your searching is no longer needed, tossing out your arms. "Lita!"

Just as you call her name, two men protectively stand before her. The only one you knew was Matt, although the other guy had a striking resemblance to him. Siblings, perhaps?

Matt was the one that had enough gall to get in your face. "You've got a lot of nerve showin' up here," Matt started, waving his finger at you. The southern twang in his voice almost makes you giggle. It's so out there.

You do your best to cover it by looking sad instead. "Tell me something I don't know. Sorry, but losing was your fault, though." That's one thing you had to make clear. "Tell me, was it nice when Trish kissed you? Did you even try to push her away?"

You pucker your lips toward him and kiss the air as he huffs at you. Matt is frustrated at your taunt and clenches his fist. What you say is true; you and Lita had your own business. Whatever he did in the ring was his responsibility.

Didn't mean you could tease him so freely about it, though.

He's going to say something else to you, but Lita shakes her head, getting up from her seat and stepping in front of him instead. "No, Matt. Just leave it. It's okay." And then she looks at you directly. "You must be really brave to show up here after what you did, or maybe you're just stupid."

It's the second time you've heard that tonight..

"Never stupid." You'd like to get that straight now. "Only apologetic." And for her to even say that makes you sure about your decision. You're glad you beat her up on Raw.

"I thought attacking you would prove my allegiance to Shane. He ordered it. I did it, but I see how wrong it is and how fucked up WCW is. After thinking about what I did to you, I wanted to come to this show and make things right."

It seems like you're taking a breath when, in actuality, you're trying to get your lies together. "I was sad and idling the halls. I want WCW to crash and burn. I have my allegiance and want it to be with all of you." You make sure to say it loudly enough so others can hear you.

"Well, I don't think any of us trust you." Matt cut in. "Something's not right about you."

"Matt, give the woman a break." The other guy says. "She's tryin' to help us. She apologized for what she did. I'm sure we've made some mistakes, so we could try and give her some credit."

Whoever this guy was with brightly dyed purple hair, you're glad he stepped in. You make a mental note to remember his face if he never introduced himself to you.

No, you won't let that happen. The only person you extend your hand to is him, although your proper introduction is meant for all of them. "I think we should get off on the right foot now. I'm [Name]. I want to be on your side now."

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Lita and Matt share some telepathic looks. All you did was introduce yourself to him!

He reaches out his hand. "Jeff."

Matt's the one who brings Jeff back to Earth, smacking his shoulder. It makes Jeff retract his hand before you can even take it. "The hell are you doin'?! We can't trust her!" It's a whispered shout that you're in clear range of hearing, not that Matt cared.

Jeff shrugs at him, then holds his hands up. "I thought…”

"Hardy meeting," He points toward the door, sounding as stern as they come. "Right now. Lita, you do what you need to do with her."

Jeff slunks over to the door, and Matt is just about to follow, but Lita gives him a parting kiss before he goes. She mutters, "I love you," but Matt's already storming off to deal with Jeff to even reply.

"So, you two are an item after all. It wasn't just jealousy." You comment. The urge to make another Trish jab was strong, but by divine intervention, you didn't say it.

"Yeah. A year, now." She confirms.

That information goes right into the filing cabinet. You give a half-smile to her. "All of you are friends then?"

It's a bit tense between you two, but Lita replies anyway, albeit strained. "Yeah, uh, we're a team. They're brothers. Matt's the oldest."

It makes sense. They looked similar, and Matt used that authoritative tone when telling Jeff to go outside.

Either way, you decide to jump straight to the chase. "I'm gonna take this chance to clear the air while it's just me and you. Lita, I was being honest when I said I wanted to take WCW out. I've gotten so close to Shane McMahon that it would be a shame for all of us to waste this opportunity. Even out of all this, I want a friendly rivalry from you at most."

Friendly, yes, that's what you wanted. It's not like you'll stiff her in the ring or anything.

"Like they always say, it's just business, you know? No hard feelings."

Lita takes a minute to think about it, turning her head away from you and then turning back. "You know what? Fine. No hard feelings. I'll give you another chance, [Name]. But if you screw up again, I can't guarantee that I won't fight you about it."

"That is totally fine. Trust me, I won't mess up again. I'll be there to help you when our goals align." Your professional tone was leaking out...

This is partly thanks to the many creative meetings and other ventures you've had at WCW. Reassurance and composure are two ways to worm your way inside a company. "Is the food any good here, by the way?"

And you can understand if Lita doesn't fully trust you. If you were in her position, you wouldn't trust yourself either.

Lita shrugs. "I mean, yeah. It's alright, I guess. You'd have to try it yourself." You still do think she believes you, despite her dry responses. It's just more progess you need to make.

"Oh my gosh, [Name], right?"

Lita groans and tosses her head up toward the ceiling. Whoever said your name, Lita wasn't happy to see them.

You turn your head over to see Trish. "Could I have a moment?" She clasps her hands together.

It's like Lita gives you the same look she gave Matt, trying to tell you something without using her words. It's difficult for you to understand, so she instead decides to leave you two be.

"Do whatever the hell you want. She's all yours." She'll probably join that Hardy meeting if they're still out there.

The both of you watch her go, and once she's out, Trish gives you her undivided attention. "Lita's always been...catty. I mean, she's been bullying me since my debut! How crueler can you get? I don't understand why she doesn't like me. And here I am, trying to let creative put us together in case we have to go against WCW. Not you now, of course."

"Stacy Keibler. Torrie Wilson." You offer up their names. "Only two they'll probably pit you against. They're all they have now."

On another note, you're trying to understand why Lita disliked Trish that much. Well, it's obvious why she didn't like you, but that's only because you did something to provoke her into it.

As you recall, Trish did end up kissing Matt. It all makes sense now, Lita looking pissed about it as she retaliated. They're an item! It's no wonder Lita wants her out.

You'll let Trish figure out that part by herself some time. "Guess you've gotta get to know her a little better. You're Trish, right?"

"That's me. I'm glad I caught you. I wanted to say thank you. Lita was gonna rough me up some more if you didn't step in when you did." Her fingers move a few strands of hair out of her face. "I feel like I owe you. What do you say to lunch next Wednesday?"

Lunch with Trish? Looks like you're already getting in good with these superstars! "Fine with me."

"I'm sorry about Shane McMahon, by the way." She adds. "We need all the help we can get, and you deserve this spot. Guess all McMahon's are pigs."

All? Like, all of them? Not Shane, at least. Shane's been nothing but pleasant and respectful to you. Unlike your previous boss, Eric Bischoff, who you were sure hated your guts with the way he treated you.

"Oh yeah, probably. I wouldn't be surprised. Even my old boss was a sleazeball." You mention.

You always thought he preferred Stacy to you when booked in certain segments. You and "Miss Hancock" were always set together when possible, but she was always going over most of the time.

At first, you had a time when you resented Stacy, putting a strain on your relationship for months. But you slowly came to terms with the fact that it was never her fault. It was management. You'd bring up your problems to Eric, and he'd dangle your contract over your head. He was quick to tell you that you didn't have to stay. Could head back right to your hotel.

That's something you don't miss.

"Then I guess we've both had some problems with our bosses, huh?" Trish mused. "It's not a very good thing, but it makes me feel better to know I'm not alone."

You're not sure what history she's had with Vince McMahon, but if she was comparing her situation to your own, then she's definitely seen some shit. You'll have to ask her about it over lunch.

Honestly, you're happy she was so sweet. Considering you saved her skin, it was fair, but hospitality goes a long way for you right now.

"Did you want to sit with me? I've got an extra seat right next to me." She uses both of her thumbs to point to her left.

"I don't see why not," You smile. Let me get something to eat first." You're already sauntering off towards the table of different foods as you hear her say, "I'll just be over here then."

You have no idea where to start. To distract yourself for only five seconds, you grab a plate. Then you're already back to square one. What do you want to eat?!

Fruit, muffins, salad, you name it, they've got it. Everything looks appealing, and it's damn near stressing you out.

You make a mental apology to Trish because you're definitely going to be here for quite a while.

as i said on the ao3 ver, i envisioned 90s look raven because that’s probably my favorite iteration of that asshole. and this is actually really fun to write since I can build up relationships 😭 i kinda cringe seeing my old writing but im happy u guys really liked it!! Thanks for reading :D

[writingquestionsanswered]

Outlining has always been a major issue for me. I don't have any idea how to do it properly. It bores me and most of the time I quit halfway. I also don't find any of the outlining methods on the Internet enjoyable. Any tips?

Outlining Isn't Enjoyable

Here are a bunch of things to consider...

1 - "Outlining" Just Means "Planning" - I'm not sure what outlining methods you've seen on the internet, but the truth is, as far as writing goes, outlining really just means "planning." And if you want to plan your story in advance, you can do that via whatever means works for you. Beginning to end written summary, verbal summary in audio notes app, mind map, timeline, scene cards, scene list, chapter summaries, scene summaries, mood boards, academic outline, story structure map, method template, playlist... you could outline your story through interpretive dance if that's what works for you.

2 - Outlining Isn't a Requirement - Like pretty much anything related to process, outlining isn't a requirement. Outlines are mostly done by so-called "planners" who prefer to flesh things out before they start writing. Many writers consider themselves "pantsers" in that they like to "write by the seat of their pants" or "wing it." These writers like to let the story develop organically, as they write. They understand their first draft might be extra messy, but they know it can be cleaned up and refined in the second draft.

3 - Outlining Isn't Really Meant to be "Fun" - If you're a writer who needs to plan your story in advance, and so you need an outline of some sort before you start writing, please know that for the most part, the majority of us aren't always approaching the outlining process with glee in our hearts and ticker tape falling from the sky. I mean, outlining can be fun, but a lot of the time it's just work. It's just something that some of us have to do before we start writing, and it's not particularly grueling or mind numbing work, it's just not the most fun thing we could be doing in that moment.

4 - Is the Problem with Your Story? - If you're a writer who needs to outline your story, but you find yourself bored to ears when you outline--to the extent that you can't even finish your outline--it is worth taking a step back to consider whether the problem isn't with outlining but your story. No matter how excited you might be about elements of your story, if you're boring yourself to tears while planning it or writing it, that may be a sign that something's not working. In other words, if you're bored planning the story, there's a good chance the reader will be bored reading it.

5 - Is the Problem Something Else? - If you're a writer who needs to outline your story, and you're really excited about your story and feel that it all works very well, but you're still getting bored and frustrated with the outlining process, then something else is going on. Things to consider: are you well rested and feeling well when you sit down to outline? Are you nourished and hydrated? Do you feel like you're in a pretty good headspace? Are you in a reasonably comfortable space that's relatively free from distraction? Are there other things competing for your attention? (Social media, texts, friends hanging out in the other room, someplace else you'd rather be, something else you'd rather be doing?) Are there other important tasks you're putting off that need to be done? Is there anything about the story that is difficult for you emotionally right now? Sometimes it's just a matter of trouble-shooting what's going on in your life, your space, and your body/mind before you start working on your outline.

I hope something here clicks with you!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

play with fire

pairing: ethan landry x female!reader

WC: 1.7K

warnings: stabbing, blood mentions. should be it.

summary: intermission to act three

A/N: wrote this in one day so that may explain why it might suck and not make sense at parts. also had this song on repeat as i wrote and was inspire by the ethan edits that used this song. 

@alecmores 💗 (even tho they hate me for this one)

been in the drafts since may 6

masterlist / ethan landry

🎧 play with fire the red means i love you beast

the subway stations of new york were always packed and busy with rushing bodies, but with it being halloween, it was doubled and worse with people wearing costumes. many wearing the ghostface costume, and it felt like they all had eyes watching your little group of friends.

you are stuck near the back with ethan by your side and holding your hand. your group of seven was on the way back to the abandoned theater to lay a trap for ghostface and end this shit before more people die. you just gotta get through the next few stops in a crowded metal tub and hope you aren’t picked off one by one.

you could barely hear anyone over the loud talking and screeching of wheels. the crowds started to get thicker and your hand slowly slipped free from ethan. you stood still as your head swiveled left and right trying to spot his head of curls over the crowd. you pulled your phone from your back pocket and tried calling but you had no signal. with one more look around you finally spotted him with mindy who looked pissed by his mere existence, her guard never dropping around the boy, sticking to the thought of him being a ghostface.

you push past people, saying “excuse me” or “sorry” only a few times before not caring. you saw ethan’s head looking to where you saw mindy stalk towards and then his eyes looked around frantically.

you walked up behind him and grabbed his bicep. he jumped at the touch and turned around, his eyes alert, but melted away once he realized it was just you.

“was wondering where you went.” he pulled you into a hug. an excuse to have you close so as not to be separated again.

“where’s mindy?” ethan jerked his head to the left and you saw mindy who leaned forward and watched the two of you. you waved a hand for her to come back, but she shooed the two of you away. 

“what’s up her ass?” you grumbled. you felt the shake of ethan’s chest from his chuckle and could faintly hear the melody. “still thinks i’m ghostface.” he spoke beside your ear as he rubbed your back.

moving your face away from his chest, you looked up at ethan whose eyes dimmed just a little at the thought of his friend not trusting him. “well i don’t. and mindy is always judging people, it’s the ‘horror expert’ thoughts.” 

ethan flashed a quiet smile, it was there and now it’s gone. you tugged his chin with two fingers before pulling him in for a distracting kiss. as you pulled away you kissed the tip of his nose before turning in his arms, back to his chest. the two of you, plus mindy, just waiting for the next train.

it finally pulled up after a few minutes and you moved with the crowd. mindy continued to stay away from both of you and you narrowed your eyes toward her. “isn’t it best to stick together?” you would have asked her if you could move without someone elbowing your ribs. ethan and you weren’t too far from mindy who leaned against a door as she stared down at her phone. ethan held the metal bar that was attached to the ceiling while you stood in front of his chest with your hand grasping the metal pole beside you.

everyone was swaying with the momentum of the train going and then stopping. some people would get off then more people would crowd the small space. you could barely see mindy at this point and you still had multiple stops to make. you leaned your head on ethan’s chest and focused on his heartbeat, it sped up just a bit and you smiled tenderly.

“i wish you stayed home.” you heard ethan beside your ear. his tone was a bit strained.

with a tilt of your head, you stared into his eyes. his honey-brown, homey eyes. made your insides melt like ice cream on a hot summer day and your legs turn to jelly. “if we stick together, our chances are higher. plus, i can’t leave you. rather get a few cuts and bruises than worry a hole into my floor about your well-being.”

you let your free hand play with ethan’s curls. his eyes closed at the sensation, at your touch. you loved the pull, the power you had over him. the hand moved from his brown tresses and slid to hold his cheek in your palm. pushing up on your tiptoes and dipping your eyes to his lips, ethan closed the distance. he let go of his backpack strap and slipped it around your waist and tugged you in closer.

noses were pressed to cheeks, lips were getting slick with spit and hands were leaving burning touches. you hummed into ethan’s mouth as he got a bit brave and moved his tongue into your mouth. you snaked your arm around his neck and locked him in place, not wanting the moment to end anytime soon.

you saw the flickering of light behind your closed lids and even with your hearing picking bits of ethan’s moans, you could tell no one would hear a thing. releasing the pole, you wrapped your fingers around the sturdy handle and slipped the knife from your pocket slowly. you made sure to keep the weapon concealed as you decided to take a breath.

glistening lips only an inch away, breaths fanning over the skin and smiles beaming, and eyes shining like stars in an open sky. you kept ethan close. “i love you.” you whispered, but knew he heard you.

“i love you too. can’t wait for this to be over.” and ethan moved back in.

you smiled into the kiss as did your boyfriend. it did have to end, but you wish the relationship didn’t. all part of the plan though as you reminded yourself from backing out.

with ethan distracted, you took the plunge and sunk the gleaming knife into his abdomen. you heard his gasp and felt his mouth move. you made sure to keep him enclosed with your arm still tight behind his neck as you swallowed his grunts of pain.

“it’s okay. it’s okay, baby. the worst hasn’t even happened yet. just breathe.” whispered to his ear as you pushed his head onto your shoulder. you felt his arm flex and his hand grabbing the material of your shirt.

“y/n…” your name was a cry from his mouth. the one you kissed just a second ago. you had to shut the sound from your mind. “i wouldn’t scream for help. kinda noisy.” a hard edge to your voice before dropping it and switching back to airy and light.

“you know,” you kept talking to continue the look of a normal couple being sickly in love on the subway, “you were supposed to die in the apartment, but i couldn’t do it. i love you way too much for you to go in a brutal way. plus i wanted to spend our last moments together and in fantasy.” you petted his hair.

you tugged the knife upward, ripping his stomach open. ethan’s groans of pain were muted by the chatter and music playing from a radio. you placed kiss after kiss to his temple. wanting him to know that you cared for him deeply, but the plan always came first.

“i’m sorry, ethan. you weren’t originally part of the plan, but then anika changed her mind. some bullshit about how if her love interest dies, mine should as well.” you rattled away. you made a pass of the car, no one was paying you any mind. not even mindy.

“now,” your voice dropped lower, “you may be wondering, ‘why are y/n and anika ghostface?’ well simply put, boredom… maybe a psychotic.” at the word psychotic, you twisted the knife and you groaned as ethan sank his teeth into your shoulder.

“it’s fine, baby.” nails scraping his scalp, “i know you hate me, i know. and i understand. i would hate me too. i just want you to know,” turning your face closer with your lips brushing the shell of his ear, “our whole relationship… it was one hundred percent real. every kiss, every touch. every word i moaned in bed or shouted when drunk. the whole nine yards.”

your eyes got teary and the people around you got blurry. your heart ached, felt like it was starting to sink to your stomach. while your brain was telling you to man up and finish the job. you slammed your eyes shut and heaved a shaky sigh. you didn’t want the lecture from anika about weakness.

“y/n…” ethan’s breath skated over your neck. you just hummed as you rubbed his shoulder blades. “i’m just… disappointed.” his chest was heaving with each word. “but i still… love you.”

the announcer prepared everyone for the stop. with tears sliding down your cheeks you noticed an empty bench behind the two of you. with ethan leaning on you, you pushed both of your bodies backward until his knees bent and he slumped down. you sat on his lap to cover the knife and blood staining his blue polo.

“i have to meet our friends at the theater. don’t want to be late for the big show.” lips meet his moist forehead. “i have to pull the knife out just before the stop. but if you would just allow me…”

you tilted ethan’s face back to yours. his skin was losing a bit of color and his lips were being stained a light red from the blood pooling in his mouth. “one more kiss?” you dived in before ethan gave a nod or a noise. your smooth lips clashed with his that was beginning to pool with blood. you moaned at the taste and scent. fingers curling tight in his coils.

the loud screeching of wheels was followed by the sway of bodies. and then you heard the swoosh of the doors opening and the thundering of multiple footsteps. you yanked the knife out and pushed off ethan’s lap. joining the swarm of moving bodies and blending into the crowd even though you guessed mindy still wasn’t paying any mind. you couldn’t help the smirk that appeared out of thin air when you thought of the fate she was about to meet at the hands of quinn. you immediately headed out the exit and up the steps.

time for act three.

...

tags: @astrxq

[diagonal-queen]

May i request headcanons of lovesick tecchou? :)

yes you can!

Lovesick Tecchou Headcanons

♡ pairing: Tecchou Suehiro x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: ...read the title bestie

♡ cw: Kinda obsessive and toxic behaviour. Being lovesick is fine but don't hurt anybody!

note: This kind of borders on yandere Tecchou. Sorry if that's not what you wanted T-T and apologies for errors, hope you enjoy x

Tecchou loves very strongly though he may not seem like the type. He can come off as obsessive at times but that's just because he loves you so much <3

He's so extremely protective of you. He wants to be near you whenever he's able to and so most of the time

He gets jealous rather easily whenever you spend time with anybody he considers to be a romantic rival, but he always feels bad about it. He wants to trust that you'll choose him but he can't help his self-doubt.

He makes up any excuse to either have you stay the night at his place, or he stays at yours. Tecchou feels like it's the only way he can keep you safe at all times, and plus he feels lucky to be around you in your most vulnerable state.

He tends to zone out and daydream about your hypothetical future lives together. Jouno can tell when he does this and he's so tired of it.

Tecchou likes to provide subtle but kind acts of service for you. Sharing his food with you, holding open doors, putting a blanket over you when you fall asleep...things like that. He loves the feeling he has when you thank him for that kind of stuff.

While he's working, there are times when he just wants to leave so he can spend time with you. But you're also one of his main motivations as a Hunting Dog, because he knows that in the end he's not only helping the country, but you as well.

His absolute favourite thing in the world is when you two are cuddling one another and he gets to lay his head on your chest while you play with his hair. It makes him feel safe too, and while doing so he likes to pretend that you feel the exact same about him as he does for you.

You're one of the main things Tecchou talks to the other Hunting Dogs about. Jouno listened at first but he's very much started tuning it out by now, as have the rest of the members. You're his biggest distraction.

He's always there for you whenever you're experiencing any troubles, and he'll do everything in his power to fix them for you.

When it comes to your romantic issues though, he can get a little jealous. He'll still listen and console you, but if there's anyone specifically bothering you he is gonna have a word with them.

When I say word, I really do mean word. He might be jealous but he is an honourable and sensible person. If need be he might make a threat or two though, because he just can't help himself. He loves you so much and nobody who would hurt you deserves to be yours.

Tecchou is more than willing to let you borrow his clothes, and in fact he sometimes subtly encourages it. Maybe he left his shirt on your couch or maybe he convinced you not to bring a jacket when the two of you go out, knowing you'll end up needing one and he'll be able to give you his. He thinks you look adorable in his clothes.

He has so many drafted love confessions to you in his Notes app, he's got several playlists dedicated to you, you're his Wi-Fi password. He'll find a way to incorporate you into far too many aspects of his life.

He also memorises almost everything about you. If you tell him something random about yourself, like your favourite food or a bone you've broken before, he'll remember it all. He might also mention it later so you know that he's always listening to you.

Tecchou loves you so much, more than anything. Why don't you love him back?

Taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fedyushka, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl

[self-spaghettification]

ok so i accidentally deleted the draft but a while back an anon asked me basically saying they had read Gone (are the Days) and wanted other good fanfic recs. and this was my response LMAO

hmm !! this may surprise you but i actually don’t consume that much fanfic. partially because i’m picky, partially bc i tend to consume content slowly or bounce around a lot, etc

i will say a general tip is to sort by bookmarks or kudos to get the good stuff and filter by specific tags as well! like i just read mage pride which is the top bookmarked item in the viravos tag and it was definitely worth the hype!!

if you enjoyed gone are the days,

you’d probably like the Professor Next Door by detectiphoenix (also a professor au but high school teachers!) besides that, here are some viravos fanfic i’ve enjoyed, off the top of my head:

(for context i’m not hyper into smut personally or try to find variety/creativity and i’m biased towards certain things lol but)

VIRAVOS FICS I LOVED <3

Mage Pride by luminiex - This is the top bookmarked fic in the viravos tag, and for good reason! While it is written after S2 and has more sympathetic Aaravos than in canon, it is still very well done in my opinion. I also love whatever it takes by them, it’s great if you don’t like smut too! Aaravos and Viren living together in this plane together lives rent free in my head 😭 I also love their fic where Aaravos gets to meet Viren’s family :)

Recidivism by indefensibleselfindulgence/ @iamalivenow - the viren characterization is everything, it takes place in s2 prison era, and it’s very humorous!

The Sound of His Voice by portmanteau_press - very very cool setup/worldbuilding concept i think

Constellation of the Heart by @yurayuramiharin - This fic is one of my absolute favorites and has inspired some of the art I’ve done as well! As someone who loves vintage & goth subculture & IS a baby bat in college I feel like I resonate with it really well! I love the taking of the worldbuilding of the dragon prince recontextualized in a college setting and the way Aaravos was actually an inspiration for Bowie & caused Viren to question his sexuality!! It’s so deliciously perfect but sadly unfinished, but I would say it’s still definitely worth the read! It doesn’t really end on a cliffhanger either, just one of the best burns ever 😁

Touch of a Star by @detectiphoenix - really unique take on what it’s like to touch Aaravos, I adore it sm and think about it everyday too. Fluffy S5 extrapolation/continuation

To Serve or Slaughter by beastlybrooke - viravos recontextualized as vampires like castlevania my other recent fixation? sign me up. it’s interesting how viren’s prejudice towards elves is recast as a prejudice towards vampires, and aaravos’s fight towards the elves and view towards humans i love it everything

honorary mention ficlets:

the stars they lie by rikku - this is short but i really like the way they incorporate virrow and mindgames, as well as enby aaravos :)

Checkmate by @thrandilf is also short and sweet but i adore it, i think about the alternate versions of the s5 trailer sm and even tried writing my own a few times but they never went that far but yeah i love it and they have other fics that are great too

respect his decision by @vestaldestroyer because aaravos didn’t have to revive viren s4 but he did and ughgghhghh while i don’t think he cares that much cause he might have just been using the revival as a way in with claudia and continuation of all that, there’s always that off chance and he doesn’t even realize how attached he is and love is just that huge when you’re that old and powerful, large enough to move mountains and yeah </3

i’d put my own can you stay by @self-spaghettification but that’d seem a bit unfair lol

—

there’s probably others i’ve yet to read or that are cool but i don’t remember or that have some good parts but are kind of iffy imo but those are the only ones i can think of off the top of my head i’m sorry </3

but i’ve also have been compiling a list of fic ratings on a google doc and uhh its not really sharable in any way, but a while ago I also had a website concept where people could share fic ratings like goodreads but for ao3 with some other site inspo in the mix that i spent a few hours sketching out the concept of but idk if i should share but yeah :)

[jupitersrising]

The next chapter of Survival of the Fittest is taking forever so I thought I'd include some fun facts about how the fic has changed over time. Because I like to talk about it but it doesn't feel necessary to put in the end notes.

Spoilers for all chapters of Survival of the Fittest

***

Originally, Yasmina wasn't going to be in a coma-like state until far later in the fic. I had a comphet lesbian storyline planned (which you can see hints of in earlier chapters) before S5 came out. After it felt wrong to go through with since she was confirmed bi, so I moved the other storyline up and gave her another conflict that will affect her soon!

The fic only had 20 planned chapters for the first couple months and was going to end when Ben reunited with the others. But I got so, so much support and love for it that I decided to continue a full series rewrite.

I always knew I wanted a character to lose a limb. But it's changed so much since the beginning. Originally, Kenji was going to lose his leg but that storyline got replaced with his addiction. (A story that I personally think was better for his character.) Then I decided on Darius. Still, he was going to lose his arm at the shoulder, then the elbow, before I finally moved it down to just losing his hand.

Ben was only going to kill Toro in the first draft and never any other dinosaur but as the rewrite got darker I wanted to include the other dinosaurs.

A few things that haven't changed since the first draft of the outline:

Sammy always killed someone, it's a really big part of her character arc throughout the story.

Darius always nearly drowns (though the setting has changed twice since the first outline).

The Beach (tm) scenes between Kenji and Ben. That's been planned since the beginning and some of the sections were written months in advance.

There's more little things too but those ones are the most fun. Most of the mental health issues, family issues, disorders, and injuries were planned since the beginning too.

Ben was really estranged from everyone in the first few drafts and it took him twice as long to interact fully with the others. The introduction of Brooklynn's friendship actually had me switching up the group dynamics a lot.

I have an (short, unfinished) unreleased snippet of Kye and Kenji's relationship before camp. Basically what happened the night he might have died and the fallout of it right up until camp starts.

There's a throw away line about a controversy Brooklynn was in just before camp, if you can remember, this will come back later. I'm so excited about it!

In the worst version of this story, Bumpy was going to die and truly make Ben go feral. Then I decided against any main character death, so no, she won't die. But it was a thought for a while.

Despite spending the so little time together in the show, Brooklynn and Ben's friendship is one of my favorites to write. Along with Sammy and Ben getting closer since Yaz's illness. I intended for Ben and Darius to have the closest friendship but they haven't gotten there yet. There's a lot of stuff they have to work out. (Yaz is still is platonic soulmate tho, don't worry).

Sorry the next update may take a bit to get out but I hope you enjoyed reading some random notes I never included!

[the-s1lly-corner]

Fluff Headcannons for Jason Voorhees

because it just so happens to be a 13th on a friday- to clear things up before i get started, im unfortunately not taking requests for slashers TToTT at least not yet, i might if my rot comes back though side note jason was such a comfort character last year i kinda miss him but im not quite ready to part with my current hyperfixiation heres to hoping writing this doesnt end that rot short

torn between giving him a soft n sweet partner and a partner whos tough and independent (but still loving, of course); because i can truly see him being interested in both. perhaps a caring s/o who can take the initiative is what would work for him. maybe thats because i read so many fics/hcs where jason in a domestic setting is like. trying to be a soft stereotypical house husband though

which he totally would be imo, like sure he's not perfect but you can tell his intentions when hes insisting to clean up the cabin for you

if this is before zombie jason he is so so so fucking warm, best cuddle buddy; post zombie hes cold, though :(

speaking of cuddling hes a cuddle bug, and generally craves loads of physical and verbal affection. now will he outwardly ask? not in the beginning i think, far too shy about it and he doesnt know the best way to ask thanks to his inexperience

"oooooh what if you hold his face and give it kisses" i think, but in the beginning i dont think he would even let you anywhere near his face; and if you're short enough, no where near his head. if this is something you want to do youre going to have to be slow, steady, and reassuring with him. its likely you wont even see his face for years after the relationship is begun unless an accident happens and his mask slips and/or breaks

only knows how to make basic bare bones meals but if you were to teach him and have a means to getting ingredients he's going to be soaking up that information and hes going to be like an eager puppy when you offer to teach him

cooking with your partner and enjoying each others presence >>>>

now lets spoil this man for a minute, since its kinda his day. he keeps a hold on literally every single gift you give him. if its something he can wear he wears it like a badge of honor. if its an object he will make sure its in tip top condition while also being used so its not forgotten.

this may be a little self projection though, but i think he would also be wary of gifts too; not because he doesnt appreciate them. he does. just too much, scared that he's going to lose or break the gift

please give him reassurance that you don't mind otherwise hes going to silently brew over it while holding something as basic as a flower you handed him

flowers

get this man flowers

i always read about jason giving the reader flowers, which i 100% he would do, but can we spoil this man too! i think he would like daises and sunflowers

but maybe thats because when i think those flowers i think nature idk

give this man a dandelion RIGHT NOW!!! let him experience the childhood that was stolen from him

this was originally gonna be longer but its like 8am and i need to do things this morning and im too stubborn to save drafts/i know ill forget to finish this but happy friday the 13th