#sometimes things are not clicking but for far more complicated reasons than just wanting to be other

[antsday]

in the palm of your hand

[i was re-reading @habken's incredible scammers to lovers au and wrote this short fic. I really love their work and couldn't help myself lmaoo. anyways i hope you all enjoy!!!]

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“Hi! Can I help you with- oh,” says the angel from the IT department, spinny chair swiveling to a stop. “It’s you again.”

The first week Katsuki had come in, Deku had been relatively understanding and chipper- bright and sunny and shit. More personal than the strained smile and forced cheer that most customer service workers spoke with- of course I’ll fix your laptop, no problem, just leave it to me. 

Now, about three weeks later he looks at Katsuki like he’s just bitten into a lemon. As in, like Katsuki had come into the IT department, looked Deku in the eye, bit into a lemon, and then made a puckered up face and writhed in discomfort and then showed up with another lemon the next day, rinse and repeat for nearly a month. A complicated mix of intrigue and confusion and mild horror at this endless display of masochism.

Which is fair; there really is no other way to look at a top ten Pro Hero who repeatedly comes in to have his laptop fixed and won’t admit under penalty of death that it was because he clicked a pop-up in hopes of having a proper conversation with a dreamy IT guy. Not that Dreamy IT guy in question knows about all of that, but whatever. If Katsuki was in Deku’s position, he would also be worried about the fact that the safety and integrity of the public was left in the hands of guys who can’t stop getting scammed by obvious pop-up ads. 

“Your laptop’s broken again?” Deku says incredulously, as if reading Katsuki’s mind. His voice is really nice, even when he sounds confused as shit. Smooth and soft like- like a satin pillowcase. Or something. Whatever. It’s not like they pay him to be good with words. 

Then again, it’s not like they pay him to (unsuccessfully) flirt with the guy he’s normally supposed to see once a month max, but here he was. 

“Yeah,” says Katsuki, like he said two days ago, and then three days before that, and for the past month. It’s easier to say than I got a pop-up ad for a BL manga and I am ninety percent sure the twink on the cover was just a recolor of Sasuke Uchiha and I clicked it because I’m a fucking dumbass and I needed an excuse to keep coming in here and gazing into your dreamy-ass eyes. If you even care. 

He’s surprised Deku’s even asking. He’s been consistently coming in here for exactly the same reason: his laptop ‘mysteriously’ got a virus and now he needs it fixed. He’ll be back to pick it up soon, no, he’s not getting a new laptop, no, he’s not sure what happened, no, he’s not going to install some fancy-ass ad-blocker because he doesn’t want to (and it would get rid of his excuse), and Deku’s never asked this but yes, he would love to go get dinner sometime, he’s free today and tomorrow and the day after that and the rest of his life, forever, actually- 

“...Did you,” Deku begins, like he’s searching for the right words. “Uh. Do you have any idea what could have happened? Any idea at all?” 

I gazed into the dead-eyed stare of poorly-recolored Sasuke’s green eyes and thought of you because your eyes are also green, and less unnerving to look at, and the more I thought about that the more my mouse moved away from the ‘x’ button and the next thing I know, I have a virus and my desire to carnally hold your hand has overpowered any other logical thought. That’s what happened. 

“No,” Katsuki says belatedly. “Fuck. Look, can you fix it or not?” 

“Of course,” says Deku. He’s still got that little furrow in his brow. Katsuki wants to bite at it like taffy- which, is a weird fucking thing to think, scratch that- “Just- give it over, and I’ll be sure to have it ready for you in a little while.”

“Cool.” He holds out his laptop. It’s reminiscent of when he was four and showing off the cool rhinoceros beetle he caught to his mom. He’s internally beaming with pride at his success so far, and Deku’s got that same baffled, borderline horrified expression that his mom did. 

Although, that particular interaction ended with the thing flying out of his hands and into his mom’s cardigan and with him getting yelled at, so, maybe it’s not the ideal scenario to compare this to.

 But this encounter will end differently. He’s got a grip on the rhinoceros beetle, now. He just has to play his cards right. 

“So,” he says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks so Deku won’t see how fucking sweaty they are. “You’ll have it ready by lunch tomorrow?” 

Deku takes the laptop and tilts his head. “Uh. Yeah, I will. In fact, I can get it to you earlier than that-”

“I’ll be busy for the rest of the day,” Katsuki lies. All his incident reports are done, and he’s got the night shift on patrol tomorrow. “You’re done by 2 tomorrow, right?”

“...Yes?”

“Great. Look, I have to stop at that fucking- crepe place, down the street, right,” he says, praying to every God there is that he looks cool and casual and not like a ‘Deranged Goblin Man’, as the Hero Times described him a few months ago. “So. When you get off work you should meet me there. At the crepe place. Tomorrow. At two pm.”

He doesn’t know what’s worse- the fact that he’s really doing this, being reduced to the same sort of emotional sap he would have made fun of only five years ago; or the fact that Present Mic’s lessons on subtlety and hidden meanings in text were actually good for something. 

Look at him, effortlessly weaving together words to create sentences with underlying motives. He’s like a modern-day Shakespeare. He’s golden. He’s killing it. Bakugou Katsuki, master of words. He’s on cloud-fucking-nine. He’s-

…aaaaand Deku isn’t responding. 

Deku blinks. He opens his mouth. Closes it. He sets the laptop down, staring up at Katsuki intently, and Katsuki starts to sweat. 

You are Bakugou Katsuki, he reminds himself. You might be down bad, but you’re not weak. It will not kill you if he rejects you. Well, it’ll kill you a little. But not that much. 

“At the crepe pla- to give you the laptop, right?” says Deku slowly. His face is turning bright red. Katsuki goes a little weak in the knees. 

“Sure, yeah,” Katsuki says half-heartedly. “Look, if you want, I could. I dunno. Fucking- buy you a crepe or something. As payment.” 

He’s so smooth. Eat your fucking heart out, Dunce Face. ‘Zero game’, his ass. 

“Sure,” Deku says, scratching the back of his neck, smile just a tad bit shy. His face is still mildly flushed. Katsuki swoons (and does his best to not let it show on his face). “I- uh. I’d like that. I guess.” 

“Cool,” says Katsuki. “Cool. Great. Okay, bye. Be there or else. Bye. See you.”

He turns on his heel and power walks out of the room, not once looking back, even when Pigtails nearly crashes into him or when Deku makes a noise suspiciously like he’s slamming his head against the desk. He walks out of the room, into the hallway, back to his own office.

The door slams shut behind him. He takes a deep breath. Squeezes his eyes shut. A breathlessly excited grin forces his way onto his face, and he pumps his fists, victorious. 

He's got a date.

part one/part two

[eastwindmlk]

For day 20 @jilytoberfest we have another long one! Prompt: 🎶Try to move on, it's back to you that all my roads keep leading 🎶 - Before I Fall Apart by Elle Coves Word count: 1603

James and Lily had become something like friends over sixth year, though it was still tenuous at best and James was very much aware of his position and that his feelings had no place in this frail relationship. That didn't mean that he could help himself looking at her whenever she was close and marvelling at the little things that made his heart flutter. The way her fingers arched under her chin when she listened intently, the way the sunlight would make her hair look like dancing flames while she threw her head back in laughter at something that Remus whispered to her or how she'd lick her lips when concentrating on her homework. The biggest difference was that he had stopped wearing his heart on his sleeve, doing his best not to be obvious when stealing glances, no more conscious flirting and no asking her out. Not even when they were the only words he could think of. When he wanted to do nothing more than scream across breakfast ‘Go out with me, Evans!’

Especially not then.

Sometimes he wondered if it was worth it. Should he really be savouring their friendship when he knew that he would always be pining? James could not help but wonder if he was in it for the wrong reasons knowing she deserved better than that. Maybe it would be healthier and less complicated for him to go out of the redhead's way and focus his energy and his emotions on something else. Possibly even finding someone else and falling out of love with Lily Evans.

Though staring at the letter in his hands he was sure that it wasn't going to happen in their seventh year.

It was barely eleven and the sun was already scorching hot, the weather sweltering despite the fresh country air blowing through the Potter's conservatory when the owl arrived, dropping two heavy parchment envelopes on the tea table where the two dark-haired Gryffindors sat. Both scrambled for their letter, being excited to see what their final school year would bring them. The older marauder almost ripped the letter in half to get to it before his friend. "You're slow today, Prongs." Sirius grinned, wincing as he noticed what his enthusiasm had almost caused, eyes dropping to the neat penmanship and the list of books. He groaned as he watched the list span two pages, dreading the amount of actual labour he would have to put in this year. His brain could only carry him so far, all the adults had told him it wouldn’t last. Maybe it would catch up to him now.

He was about to complain to James, eyes flicking up to see the chaser still eyeing the closed envelope. "Well, what are you waiting for? It's just a massive list of books." With an impatient clicking of the tongue, he reached for the letter, curious to see if there was something different about this one. However, before his fingers closed around the paper it was pulled out of his reach and clutched protectively to the boy's bare chest.

"Paws off!" James complained, his lips pressed together and eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "It's heavy," The bespectacled boy muttered suspiciously, weighing the letter in his hand before moving to open it. He cut his pinky on the sharp edge, blood beading along the paper cut as he forced the top to split open neatly. Peering inside he noticed something glisten, making the corners of his lips pull up ever so slightly.

He'd been expecting the captain's badge, it would have been a cold day in hell before his favourite professor would give the job to anyone else. Frankly, he would probably have thrown a fit if she had. He shook the badge out of the envelope. He watched it tumble out and dropped the enamel out of shock. There was the sound of metal hitting metal and the wooden chair scraping across the tiled floor. Leaving behind a confused Padfoot and an unread letter.

Both of them launched for the pin that had just dropped him wanting it back and Sirius clearly invested in what this was all about. His friend’s long fingers wrapped around it first and James hit his head against the tabletop above him when he jolted upward. “Just give it back.”

Sirius clearly had no intention of handing it off before he’d figured out what it was, letting out a low whistle. “Well, well, well, would you look at that,” he chuckled, holding the pin up to the light like it would reveal some other secrets.

James took this opportunity to snatch it away from Sirius and stalk off, out of the orangery and nearly ran through the hallway, a plan forming in his head as he bounded up the stairs. It was a stupid plan and he knew it, but that never stopped him before and he wouldn't let it stop him now.

He threw open the door to his room and rushed to find a shirt, settling for one that didn't smell like it would run away from him, a pair of trousers that would at least cover his knees and grabbing his shoulder bag. The gleaming pins were stuffed in the front pocket so he could not lose it.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Sirius’ voice asked from his doorway and when his eyes lifted he found his friend leaning against the door frame a disapproving scowl on his face. “Prongs, we talked about this,” he said tiredly before pushing into his room, toe nudging some dirty socks out of the way to perch on the edge of his friend’s bed.

James sighed and pressed his tongue into his cheek, wanting to bite back the protest that threatened to rise to his lips. “I just need to know,” he argued despite his best efforts to ignore Sirius. Something he had always been particularly bad at.

“So, this is about her then?” His voice was cold when he asked, the impatience dripping off the words. Sirius wouldn’t even say her name, not after they’d agreed he was banned from bringing her up this summer. Clear his head before seventh-year starts and try the moving on thing again. Something that has been going particularly poorly the closer September first came.

His hand shot up to his hair as he scoffed. “Isn’t it always?” he asked, sounding defeated. “I can’t help but feel like this has to be a sign.” He sat down next to the man on the bed.

Sirius rolled his eyes, an arm wrapping around James’ shoulders. “I thought we didn’t believe in those,” he pushed in a surprisingly gentle tone. Ever the patient one when it came to him. James counted himself lucky to have found the soft side of the notoriously distant Sirius Black.

“I thought so too, but this feels important, you know,” he argued in return, once more retrieving the pin to look at it.

The pair of them admired it for just a moment before the older brought up something that his mind had clearly suppressed. “What if it isn’t her?”

“It ought to be!”

“Mulcibre ought to be in Azkaban,” Sirius retorted immediately, even if he agreed that if they were going to make anyone Head Girl, Lily Evans was their best option especially if James was her counterpart. They were both terrifyingly competent, he might need to consider following some rules in the upcoming year.

James sucked his teeth, a sound of distaste at the mention of the vile brute that still trolled the Hogwarts Hallways unchecked despite the list of his crimes being ever-growing even if they did not count his terrible Quidditch etiquette.

“Still, we both know that it is her,” he countered and continued only when Sirius acknowledged his defeat. “I can’t help but feel like, no matter what I do, everything leads back to her.” James raked his hand across his face with a groan. “Why can’t the universe just do something about her feelings instead of shoving me in her face? I don’t want to grow on her like a bloody fungus until she has no choice but to tolerate me. I can’t help but feel like I have no choice but to let it happen.”

There was a moment of silence where both the boys, now young men, considered his words. “Would that be so bad? I seem to put the fun in fungus and she’s happy enough to have me around,” Sirius suggested shattering the thoughtful silence.

James couldn’t help but snort at that, even if it wasn’t even that funny. “That might be because you’re just a fungi without ulterior motives,” he suggested and despite a rather excellent pun, his tone was rather dour.

Sirius let out a chuckle, at last appreciating the humour for a moment. “I wasn’t aware you had motives other than being her friend.”

“I don’t!”

“Then do you really have ulterior motives?”

The question took him by surprise and James leaned his head against Sirius’ shoulder while he contemplated. James swallowed the lump in his throat. “I am just starting to wonder how I am supposed to move on when every turn I take, she’s going to be right there being the incredible person she is,” he admitted quietly.

Sirius’ hand grips him tighter and he risks a glance up to find understanding in his eyes. “I don’t know, mate. But what I do know is that she eats the mushrooms off Remus’ plate because he doesn’t like them. She already liked those, why can’t she like another fungus?”

[mysticsparklewings]

Obscutober 2024 Day 3: Horology 🕰️

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Horology (n.)

the science of measuring time

the art of making instruments for indicating time; clockmaking

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I assume real clock-making is rather time-consuming 😉 Making a clock-making-inspired mandala sure was!

...It took more time than I care to admit to come up with that joke. At least the art turned out nice? 😅 Bad puns aside: Click the "Keep Reading" and we'll talk more about my thoughts/process for this piece ✨

⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

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I'm a little bit conflicted with this one, Sparklers. (But hey, at least I should be getting this one posted a little bit earlier! 🤷‍♀️ ) I am happy with how it came out, and I was pretty excited to see what I could do with the ideas of gears and metal that immediately sprang to mind for this word, however...The act of making said metal and gears ended up being a lot more trouble than I anticipated. 😅 Those emotions are so equally matched it's hard to separate them. The biggest hurdle was the fact that in order to look "right," I had to be more careful about getting curves looking circular-ish and uniform with each other. For full circles, that's generally not so bad. For semi-circles and arcs, it tends to be a big pain. 🙃

It also didn't help that I chose to make the outer ring of gear teeth a size that was really "too small" for Procreate's symmetry tool to help me out as much as I needed it too. So I also had to be more careful with those as I worked me way across what area the symmetry tool wouldn't fill in for me. The background was a bit more challenge than I expected, too. If anyone remembers how I mentioned yesterday I had decided some spot color "within" the mandala lines is okay but I still want to keep things loose: This one definitely pushed the boundaries on that. I tried leaving things more abstract, but I kept going back and re-defining certain color areas because it felt wrong otherwise.

I think that's a conflict between the general clockmaking concept and the abstract nature of how I'm approaching these prompts; Clockmaking, or at least the physical components needed to do it, is so very rigid and precise. Although, on the other hand, there's a kind of irony in that, isn't there? Since the way we humans measure time is something we made up—it's pretty arbitrary as far as nature is concerned.

...I seem to be wandering away from talking about the art and into higher concepts I am really not an expert in. 😅 Let me try to get this derailed train of thought back on track...

My point was that it felt like I needed more color, placed more carefully, to help with the definition between the different gear and cog pieces. This was not helped by how a lot of the images I kept seeing when I looked up clock/watch insides did usually have pieces that stood out because they were differently colored metal. Two related asides: 1. I apologize to anyone that does work with watch/clock components and may be getting a headache from my lack of proper vocabulary to describe said parts...Or the general lack of sense the "clock parts" I tried to draw here make compared to the actually insides of a time-telling machine. Many, many artistic liberties were taken! 2. I do actually kind of recommend looking up watch/clock insides sometime when you get a chance if you're not familiar with what that looks like; I found a lot of the pictures oddly soothing for reasons I don't fully understand. But even so—A lot of them are pretty even though I don't think they're trying to be. The screws on this one make me think of tiny gemstones! [I did consider adding some spots of color to background to mimic that jewel-like feel I just mentioned, but ultimately I didn't want to over-complicate the color palette.]

Anyway, going back to the lines/mandala portion for a moment: I knew going in that the fact I'm taking up the center for the word definitions would make a time/clock-themed one more difficult. After all, one of the primary things you think of with those concepts are the clock hands in the center of a clock face. Usually, even if you don't read analogue clocks that often that's still true!

For that reason, while I normally make the mandalas from the inside-out (aside from adjustments/tweaks that happen later), this time I started more on the outer edge. The clock hands hanging out there were still one of the very last things, but the gear teeth and general round "clock border" were the first and I more or less worked my way inward.

And at a certain point I realized so far I really just had a "gears" or industrial-themed mandala that showed no hints of being tied to clocks specifically. 😅 You can see from that, I ended up opting to put roman numerals in the 4 primary "clock" positions—12, 3, 6, 9. If I'd had room, I might have gone for the full set of 12, but by that time (ha-ha) I'd spent way too long making those four "gear spoke" semi-circle things that hang over right where most of the other numerals would go and I was not of a mind to either re-do or erase them. 😵‍💫 I then spent way too long trying to figure out how to "compensate" and fill the "clock face" just a little bit more because the big 4 numerals weren't quite enough for me. It's not very exciting but I landed on just some small lines—Tick marks, you might say. 😃 You may also notice that, true to something else I said yesterday, this is now the first example of one of the Obscutober mandalas in black rather than white. I did start out with it in white, but as I was moving into work on the background I thought the white was coming off a little too "soft" or too much like the mandala was glowing. Black felt like a better fit for the illusion of depth and the more "rigid" feel overall.

Although while I was in the process of changing the lines from white to black, I was very tempted to leave it in a half-state where some of the uppers layers were in black and the lower ones were still white. That got vetoed for consistency's sake, but it did cause me to go back and play with some of the contrast in the background a little more to kind of echo the idea.

I was also very tempted to try dark brown or sepia lines for this one, but, say it with me: I decided not to to keep things simple and consistent.

The final product doesn't necessarily look that much like what I originally had in mind...But to be fair, my original vision was pretty fuzzy. At least unlike yesterday, there isn't too much I feel like I'd change or do all that differently if I had to do it over.

I do hope I can say at least that much about tomorrow's piece—Tomorrow is shaping up to be a busy day in my offline life, so I'm a little bit concerned about how I'm going to fit Obscutober in...But that's a key point of the challenge, right? 😅

There's definitely a joke in here somewhere about "use your time wisely," but I can't quite put it together, so you Sparklers will have to think on it and let me know if you can figure one out. 😉 Until tomorrow, Sparklers... 🤗

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See the Prompt List

Artwork  © me, MysticSparklewings

Obscutober Concept Inspired by nikolas_tower

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⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

[quatribobo]

LOVE the Drabble you posted for the Hanahaki prompt. When I noticed there wasn’t a named ‘unrequited love’, my mind immediately went: PLOT TWIST. Danny’s love for his town is slowly killing him in more ways than one.

In reference to this post from @stealingyourbones

Thank you, I'm glad you liked it! See, I left that part blank purposefully so that people could bring in their own interpretations. DP x DC? Parental love? Sam/Tucker polyam with Sam and Tuck only having eyes for each other? You bring it!

But Nonnie, that never even crossed my mind and I LOVE it. It's an honour to meet such a fellow angst enthusiast!

You can do so incredibly much with this, so *cracks knuckles* let's get into this.

Okay first of all, I'm going to presume Danny knows that this is the love he's feeling. He's having trouble opening up to Jazz, because however protective he is of Amity, that's about how protective she is of him.

She, however, will not accept his silence on the subject. Her baby brother is dying, she's damn well going to find out if she can help, even if that means she's going to have to be the best wingman in history to get this done.

Danny doesn't want to tell her because he knows she'll be crushed once she finds out. How is he supposed to tell her if he knows she'll want to help him, but go mad when she realises she can't?

Still, she persists. On and on she goes. He tries to convince her: hey, this just happens sometimes. People get cancer too sometimes, can't he just enjoy the time he's got left?

Jazz argues that even people with cancer deserve a fighting chance. They don't usually give up beforehand, before even trying. Not without a proper reason, at least.

That's when it dawns on her: there's something he's not telling her, other than the identity of his love. There's something bigger going on. Her prodding becomes more and more targeted, until she manages to force just enough out of him that it suddenly clicks.

Just as Danny predicted, she's crushed when she finds out, because even she knows that making the town love him back is somthing that won't happen. She's seen enough over the past few years to know this.

What Danny hadn't predicted though, was that she was not going to accept this as a dead end, not at all.

Back to plan A, she said. Removing the plant from his lungs.

Despite Danny's protests, she goes into the Ghost Zone - alone, as Danny is far too ill at this point - and goes to see some people.

First up is Frostbite. She asks him if there is any way to teach her what to do and have him guide her through the operation, maybe via an earpeace and a camera? Unfortunately, the aswer is no. The procedure is just too complicated and precise, and there was no way he'd let her perform the operation with absolutely no chance of success. She'd fail, and only blame herself for that for the rest of her life. Despite her avid arguing, he refuses. Only when he explains to her how the procedure goes, does she get his point. There's just nothing she can do in this operation.

So, she tries a different approach.

In the real world, medics can use robotics to perform surgeries from a distance. Is that an option?

The way Frostbite's face lights up, is answer enough.

And so, the second ghost she goes to see, this time with Frostbite in tow, is Skulker.

At first when he hears what's going on, he couldn't care less. It's only when Jazz mentions how such a valuable pelt would completely go to waste, that he agrees to help. It's a good thing he did, since both Jazz and Frostbite were just about ready to tear him a new one.

So they start talking about what's possible and what isn't, and for the first time, Jazz actually starts to feel a glimmer of hope.

However, when Skulker starts to ask about the specifics of the situation, that hope melts like snow in the sun.

He asks why they'd go with the risky procedure, instead of trying to wingman their way out of this. When Jazz explains what's going on, both ghosts freeze.

Jazz doesn't want to ask why.

She does anyway, and the answer wrecks her.

Amity isn't just what Danny loves, they explain, it's his obsession. If they'd successfully remove the disease, his love for Amity would disappear alongside it. In other words: they'd be removing his obsession, the one thing that's keeping Danny together and forming his core. And if they'd harm his core, he'd fade within seconds.

So, Frostbite summarises, even if the operation was a succes, they'd kill Danny with their own hads.

And how was Jazz supposed to continue with this?

How was she supposed to go home, knowing that Danny's obsession was allowing the disease in him to survive?

How could she face Danny, knowing that the one thing killing him was his core itself?

[the-cult-of-russo]

Just Beneath The Flames (Part 10)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: cursing, smut at some point probably lmao, zombie shit, typical canon violence. You know the drill.

A/N: I’ve been itching to write some Billy POV in this story for so long lmao I didn’t do a whole ass chapter with it, although I could have done. I want to keep some mystery alive in not knowing fully what’s going on in that complicated head of his. But I couldn't help myself with the start of this chapter looool

Fun fact; When I started this story, I didn’t really know where I was going with it and it’s all free written, but as I went on, I did get some ideas of things I wanted to do. What happens in this one was going to be the end of this series, but as you know if you’re reading this, Billy and Reader haven’t even gotten anywhere yet lmao So it’s going to continue for god knows how long and I have no idea where the fuck it’s going from here once again loooool

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Billy stared off into the fire, his ears and eyes not able to focus on the map in Frank’s hands as he talked strategy with everyone. He was wearing a far away look on his face, the same one Micro was wearing as he sat in the mouth of his tent. He was starting to wonder if he’d made a real big mistake in sending you off the way he had. His first instinct after that asshole had been in his camp was to get you as far away from Rawlins and his bullshit as possible, being here put you in danger. But what if that was the plan? What if Rawlins wanted to split the group up so you’d all be easier to pick off one by one? He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t and in his impulsive need to get you to safety, he’d sent you off with no one to protect you. He couldn't shake the dull ache in his chest when he remembered how hurt and sad you’d looked when he asked you to go, how your voice trembled lightly when you asked him to come with you. He wanted to, lord knows he fucking wanted to, but he couldn’t until this shit was done. He couldn’t lose anyone else to Rawlins, he thought he’d lose his damn mind if he did and he certainly couldn't lose you. He was incredibly protective of the people he cared about and while you were a newer addition to his little group, he was protective of you too. Maybe even more so than the others and he wasn’t sure why. He knew you weren’t some damsel in distress that needed saving and you’d told him that right to his face a fair few times. He knew you could handle yourself, yet he couldn't help the deep need to look after you, to keep you safe. And he thought sending you away to the safe house had been the answer. He hadn’t been able to think straight after the man came here, pointing a gun at Leo like that. He’d seen red, watching as one of Rawlins’ men threatened one of his own like that and a kid no less. But then the asshole threatened Karen and then he threatened you. He couldn’t take it, couldn't have stopped himself from pulling that trigger even if he’d tried. Frank was still salty over that and Billy wasn’t sure just when Frank was the patient one and the voice of reason. He didn’t regret it though. He knew that piece of shit would have never told them any information about Rawlins and if anything, he might have even led them into a trap knowing how desperate they were. It still didn’t change the fact that now they had nothing to go off and now he felt more panicked and rushed to get this shit over with than before because you were getting further and further away from him as he sat there staring into the fire. It was like he could physically feel it the more miles you put between you both and it made his chest burn with a searing hot pain. He wasn’t quite sure what had you both clicking so well but he couldn’t deny that you did, fitting together perfectly like two jigsaw pieces. Maybe he saw a little of himself in you sometimes. Or maybe it was the melancholy that seemed to follow you wherever you went that seemed to draw him in, wanting to help. He really didn’t know. It usually took him a while to warm up to people, after he sussed them out. It had taken a while for him to accept the ragtag group of his but he’d known them for years now. The only exceptions being Frank and Curtis but he’d met them in extreme situations and that usually made you form bonds quicker or learned that you couldn't trust someone. Wasn’t that what this whole world was now though? An extreme situation? Yet he couldn't shake the fact you were different. They’d come across people on their travels, not all of them bad, but no one had inspired such feelings in him as you had. No one had touched him so deeply that he needed them to join the group and be with him no matter what. 

He heaved a sigh and wiped a hand down his face and Frank seemed to get the memo that he wasn’t really present as he spoke more to the others than to Billy. He was in no state to help make plans or anything with his head like this and he needed to get a handle on it. The quicker they dealt with Rawlins, the quicker he could be on his way to you. But this awful tugging in his gut made him tense and he tried to quell the voice in the back of his head that asked him what he would do if you weren’t there. He was a fool. He’d stayed behind out of the sheer need for revenge for his fallen family and for his loyalty to Frank and it might cost you your life because of it. He might not have been able to go himself, needing closure to that chapter in his life, but he could have sent someone else with you. Curtis or Matt, someone he knew he could count on to keep you safe. But no, he’d been desperate to get rid of you before Rawlins attempted to take your life for the fucking millionth time and he hadn’t thought his plan through. This was all his fault. Rawlins somehow seemed to know way more than he should about everything and he knew from the way the man who turned up to camp had looked at him when he’d said your name that Rawlins was after you to get to him. If you died simply for being around him, because he cared about you, he didn’t think he could live with himself. When the world fell, they’d all thought Rawlins had died. He was never good at looking after himself, always needing people to do his dirty work. Billy had been so sure that the fucker hadn’t made it out that he’d allowed himself to start to move on and he knew Frank had felt the same. It wasn’t exactly the revenge they had planned and he’d admit it was slightly unsatisfying, but he was gone and that was all that mattered. But he wasn’t gone and he was still trying to hurt the people he and Frank cared about, he was still fucking with them even after all this time. He just wanted this whole thing over with. He wanted to be somewhere safe with his family, somewhere they could all build a life together without having to worry about Rawlins on top of everything. He’d already taken so much from Billy. His family, his company, his honor, his goddamn time. He’d wasted so much time being sucked in by Rawlins, not seeing before it was too late just what was happening. And when he did finally claw his way out of Rawlins’ grasp with bloody hands, everything was already too far gone. He’d carry the guilt for not getting to the Castle’s in time for the rest of his life, it was his burden to bear and he’d spend the rest of his life making up for it. But if he lost anyone else, if he lost you, he knew it would break him completely. There would be nothing left of him to pick up and glue back together. Your only crime here was being associated with him and he needed to take care of Rawlins before anything else happened. He just had to hope that they found him soon.

—--

Your brain woke before your body did, eyes heavy and shut as you heard faint groaning. As if turning up the volume dial, the groaning seemed to get louder and louder until it was right down your ear. Your eyes flew open and you gasped, crying out at the pain in your ribs as you tried to get a grip on what was happening. You were upside down, your seat belt the only thing keeping you in your seat and as you looked to the left, a dead one was pawing at you through the broken window. With a shaky hand, you grabbed your knife from your thigh sheath, your head spinning and being upside down not helping with your bearings, before you plunged it right into its eye. 

“Sarah?! Leo?! Zach?!” you called out, glancing to your other side and seeing the seat empty and the door open. You felt sick and it wasn’t just from the probable concussion you had. You looked behind you, seeing the back of the van empty too and a pained noise left your lips. You unclipped the seatbelt, falling to the roof of the car with a painful thud to your head and you winced as you climbed out the shattered window. You barely registered that you’d cut your arm but the pain felt like nothing compared to what you felt on the inside. You used the van to help you stand up, your leg and ribs injuries seemed to be aggravated if the pain was anything to go by but you didn’t think you’d re-broken anything. Your head whipped around the dark and desolate road, finding no signs of anything and the silence was deafening. 

“No… no, no, no,” you muttered frantically, cradling your head as you swayed a little. They were gone. A painful sob ripped from your lips and you slid down the van, the cold of the icy road biting through your jeans but you paid it no mind as you cried. They’d trusted you. They’d all trusted you to keep the most vulnerable members of the group safe and they were just gone. You heaved, leaning over to the side before your stomach emptied its contents on the road. How could you fail again? You could barely breathe through your gut wrenching sobs, your head too jumbled to think straight. You glanced around again, only this time you saw something pinned to the van by a knife. You blinked your tearful eyes to try and clear them as you once again stood on trembling legs. You wiped your eyes angrily, seeing it was a map. There was a circle around part of it, coordinates on the top. You yanked the knife out of the van with a snarl, the tears still rolling down your cheeks and you turned the map in your hands and saw writing on the back.

Castle and Russo for the Liebermans. 

Tomorrow - 9 pm

Your jaw clenched, your eyes dark and fiery as you glared at the writing. A hostage exchange. And you knew well without even knowing the man what he would do with Frank and Billy. And you knew damn well that they would go anyway. Your breathing was coming in short and sharp, partly from pain and partly from the pure panic seizing you tightly in its clutches and you started to make your way back. It would take longer by foot, especially since you were slightly limping and in a lot of pain. The idea of having to go back to camp and tell the others how badly you failed made you want to crawl in a hole and die, but you wouldn't be a coward. You’d fucked up and you’d own it. You had to or the Liebermans were as good as dead. Halfway through your journey, you realized your head wasn’t just hurt, but it was bleeding. The blood had trickled down your face, neck and some of your chest but you didn’t care about your injuries. As long as you made it back with enough time to hand the message over to the others then you really didn't care what happened to you. You didn’t deserve anything after what you’d done. This was exactly why you’d avoided being part of a group. By the time you were slowly weaving through the trees, your tears hadn’t dried up as you’d hoped. You looked a mess, you knew that much. Covered in your own blood, limping a little, a tear stained face with wide shell shocked eyes. You could see the glow from the fire, telling you most of the camp must still be awake. You weren’t quite sure how long you’d been gone but it was still dark outside. You stumbled through the trees and Frank was the first to see you. He stood up, a horrified look crossing your face like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Y/N,” he whispered, blinking rapidly at you. At your name, Billy stood up, head snapping over to you at breakneck speed. You were too far gone to dissect the look on his face but he almost looked like he’d seen a ghost. But before anyone could say anything as they all started to notice you, Micro was rushing over.

“Where are they?!” he asked frantically, his voice cracking with emotion that had your painfully loud sobs ripping from your throat again. You opened your mouth but nothing came out other than the cries of someone completely broken and it only made him panic more. He grabbed the tops of your arms, shaking you fiercely. It sent white hot pain through your body and made your head spin but you didn’t protest as you tried to calm yourself. He was suddenly ripped from you, being shoved away by a thunderous looking Billy.

“She can’t tell you shit with you manhandlin’ her like that,” he growled, standing protectively in front of you.

“That's my family, man. My wife… kids,” Micro whimpered. Billy’s face softened but only slightly before he turned his bright and concerned eyes to you.

“Y/N… Sweetheart, what happened?” he asked with a voice so soft you barely heard it. Your eyes were unseeing, chest heaving as you tried to get a grip and he moved closer, tilting his head as he stared at you worriedly. You knew you were worrying them more though, for all they knew, Sarah and the kids were dead so you fought hard to make words leave your mouth, even if they were broken up by your sobs.

“We… we were driving and… a car came behind us… It was icy and I-I … I tried to keep control of the van… But they were… I… They had spikes in the road… the-the tires popped and I… the van… we went off road and it-it flipped a few times… When I woke up… they were gone and they left this,” you sobbed, holding out the map you’d been clutching tightly. Frank took it quickly, looking over the front and then the message on the back, sharing a dark look with Billy. Micro snatched it, a whimper leaving his lips as he read it and you squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. 

Curtis came over then with some first aid supplies. Your mind was in and out of it and Billy hovered next to you, asking him a bunch of questions. You heard something about you not needing stitches, about your old injuries being aggravated. You couldn’t focus enough to pay attention. Curtis cleaned you up though, bandaging your head and the cut on your arm. By the time he was done, your sobbing had stopped but you felt an odd mix of numb and pure self loathing. Billy took your hand, moving you away from the others who were all having a panicked discussion that wasn't really doing you any favors. You’d done this. 

“This ain’t on you,” Billy said firmly once you were nearer the tents, his dark eyes imploring. You shouldn’t have been surprised he knew what was going on in your head but you scoffed and shook your head, the motion making you feel sick.

“How is this not my fault? You… you trusted me to protect them and I failed! I always fucking fail!” you lamented, tears once again pricking your eyes. His face fell at your words, looking almost like he was physically pained by them as he shook his head vehemently. 

“No… No, you didn’t. You wanna blame anyone, you blame me,” he argued, eyes aflame and not wavering. 

“How is this on you? I was the one with them, I was the one who was supposed to keep them safe,” you frowned. A frown of his own marred his face and he shook his head once more as he looked away from you, rolling his shoulder. When his eyes turned back to you, the pain behind them made your chest ache.

“I… I didn’t send you with ‘em to keep ‘em safe, Y/N… I knew it was better than ‘em goin’ alone but I… I sent you there ‘cause… ‘cause I wanted you safe,” he admitted quietly. You blinked through teary eyes for a moment as his words sunk in. You’d partly suspected it but it was another thing to hear him say it. 

“That still doesn’t make it your fault. I should have done better, I should have-” you started arguing hotly, but he interrupted you, taking a looming step towards you.

“I was scared and I let it cloud my judgment. I didn’t… I didn’t think about what I was doin’, I just… We shoulda planned it better, made sure there were enough of you to keep an eye on each other.  Sarah and the kids… they ain’t fighters. You had no one to watch your back, the only one capable of fightin’ back. It was all on you and I shouldn’t have…” he trailed off, his face haunted as he shook his head. You still didn’t believe him. It didn’t matter what he said, you knew this was on you. Before you had a chance to keep arguing with him though, Frank walked over.

“We’re gonna head out soon,” he muttered to Billy and you drew your eyes to him then.

“You’re going tonight?” you asked curiously and he nodded.

“Ain’t waitin’ until tomorrow. Ain’t leavin’ Sarah and the kids with him any more than we need to. We go tonight, use the element of surprise and we end this,” he said darkly and you nodded. He gave you a sympathetic look before sharing one you couldn't read with Billy, then he was off to speak to Karen. 

“I’m gonna kill ‘em. Every fucker that had a hand in doin’ this… hurtin’ you… They’re dead,” BIlly muttered darkly, a cold and sharp look in his eyes that told you he meant it. 

“I’m coming with you,” you said firmly. His jaw tensed, his eyes blazing, but he almost had a look on his face that told you he knew this was coming.

“Like hell you are,” he bit out and you narrowed your red rimmed eyes at him.

“I’m not asking for permission,” you huffed.

“If this is ‘cause you feel guilty-” he started.

“I do feel guilty and I need to do this. I need to… I need to fix this, okay? You know I can be helpful, you know I can help you,” you implored. You weren’t sure if it was your desperate tone or the frantic look in your eyes but Billy sighed, nodding but not looking happy about it. You were just glad he wasn’t still fighting you with this.

“Fine, but you’re gonna listen to me and Frankie, do what we say,” he said firmly, raising his brow that told you this was non negotiable. You nodded and he watched you for a moment, sniffing and cracking his neck.

“Get your shit ready, we’ll roll out soon,” he commanded before going over to Frank. You had no idea who would be going with you but you didn’t care. You went over to the tent you normally shared with Billy, grabbing his bow and arrows out of it. You hadn’t asked but you knew he wouldn't mind and yours was still in the overturned van. Someone would have to go find it after all this and get all the supplies out of it.

 

You were exhausted and you moved over to sit by a tree while you waited. You were running on fumes but you wouldn’t be sitting this one out, not when you had no idea what the hell was happening to Sarah or the kids. You glanced up when you saw someone approach you, thinking it would be Frank or Billy telling you it was time, but instead, you found Micro. Your chest constricted, a lump lodging itself deep in your throat as you looked away from him quickly. He moved to sit beside you and you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you breathed, trying and failing to keep the tears at bay. You thought you’d wind up dehydrated at this rate. 

“This isn’t your fault, Y/N,” he frowned and his words took you off guard, making you look to your side at him. You opened your mouth but he continued before you had the chance. 

“I know you blame yourself and I know Billy blames himself and I’m so sick of it. I’m sick of everyone feeling bad for shit they didn’t do. The only one to blame right now is Rawlins. Him and his men. You can sit there dissecting every choice you made or trying to figure out what went wrong, but all roads lead back to him. None of this would be happening if it wasn’t for him. And I know you won’t listen to me and I know you’ll still feel guilty ‘cause you’re a lot like Billy that way… but I don’t blame you Y/N,” he murmured softly. It made the lump in your throat expand and you looked away from his heavy gaze, unable to take the weight of it. It did ease you somewhat that he didn’t blame you but it had been far too long since you felt this crushing weight of failure and worry and it was overwhelming. He gave you a small pat to the back before he got up and walked away, leaving you to your thoughts. Luckily, Billy came over only moments later, before you had a chance to spiral again.

“Come on,” he held his hand out to you and you took it, allowing him to help you up and you swayed slightly. His concerned eyes roamed over you, his tongue darting out and wetting his lower lip.

“You sure about this?” he asked warily, maybe worried you’d snap at him.

“I’m sure,” you murmured with a nod. He stared at you for a long moment, almost like he was considering stuffing you into a tent and leaving you there. He didn’t though, in the end he nodded, still looking apprehensive before he led you away, your hand still in his. 

It turned out to be just you, Billy and Frank going and you were curious given the fact that more hands would help, but you knew it was most likely them not wanting anyone else getting hurt so you didn’t bother asking. You ended up squashed between the men in the truck and as Frank drove, the map in Billy’s hands, you felt lightheaded. You didn’t say anything though, not wanting to give them an excuse to tell you to go back. You just clenched your jaw and tried to will yourself not to throw up or pass out. You were pretty sure you had a concussion. The ride was uncomfortably silent but you were in no position to try and break it so the three of you rode in silence until Frank finally pulled over. You weren’t too sure what to expect, the three of you climbing out of the truck on the road. You hadn’t really looked at the map to see where had been circled. But as you walked a little down the road, you saw the building not too far into the trees. To call it a log cabin would be misleading. It was more like a log mansion, three stories high and looking well made. It reminded you of the kind of log cabin a very rich person would have had built for them and then barely use. The three of you crouched behind some bushes, Frank and Billy looking at each other like they were communicating without words. But once they got their guns ready, you finally spoke, keeping your tone low.

“You can’t just go right in there,” you muttered with a frown, drawing two sets of eyes to you.

“Why?” Frank asked, a slightly frustrated edge to his tone. 

“We have no idea what’s in there. We have no idea how many there are, if the Liebermans are even there, if Rawlin is,” you explained carefully.

“What d’you suggest then?” Billy asked. He wasn’t snarky, more curious and as you turned to him, he was watching you carefully and you didn’t miss how his eyes flit to the bandage on your head. 

“We wait, see if we can gauge who's in there. Or if one comes out, I can get him with my bow, subdue him and you guys can get info out of him,” you shrugged. It felt like a better plan than storming the place blind and you were grateful as Billy nodded in agreement, his eyes going over your head to Frank. Frank was quiet for a long moment and you knew he was anxious to just get this done but you didn’t want his impatience to be his undoing.

“Alright,” he muttered finally and you felt yourself relax. The three of you spied through the bushes, trying to see any movement through the windows and get a feel of what you were up against. And then, as if the gods who loved to torment you finally wanted to give you a break, a lone man slipped out of the cabin, walking over to the side of it as he lit up a cigarette. You felt both men stiffen beside you and you glanced to them.

“I’ll get him, but you guys need to be over there ready so he doesn't scream,” you whispered seriously. They both nodded at you and you felt Billy’s hand smooth over your back briefly before they crept off into the trees out of sight. You waited a few beats, not really knowing if they were in place or not but you had to strike before the man went back inside or someone else came out. You got your bow ready, eyes trained on the man before you let your arrow go. It got him in the shoulder, a wound that wouldn't kill him but would hurt like a bitch. He flew back and before any noise could leave his lips, Billy was on him, hand over his mouth with Frank crouching on the other side, his cold gun pressed to the man's forehead. You quickly rushed out from the bush and over to them, the man on the floor shaking and writhing with the pain. He only looked about 20 and you had no idea how he got tangled in this mess.

“One peep and your brain’s gonna be all over this floor. Got it?” Billy growled at the man. He looked terrified, eyes flitting from Billy to Frank and it was clear he knew who they were. You might have felt sorry for him if he hadn’t chosen to side with Rawlins. There was no way this guy didn’t know what he was doing, who he’d sided with. He’d chosen the wrong team to play for. 

“He asked you a question,” Frank hissed, pressing the gun harder against the man’s head and making him nod vigorously. Billy and Frank looked at each other before Billy removed his hand. You waited on bated breath to see what happened. You knew Frank and Billy would keep their promise if he decided to start screaming, but it meant it would give their cover away. The man seemed to be more scared of Frank and Billy than he was of Rawlins though as he didn’t make a noise. 

“How many are in there?” Frank asked roughly. The man’s eyes darted from Frank to Billy and then back to Frank, his whole body trembling.

“Seven… eight including me,” he explained in a shaky voice. No matter how scared he seemed, you really couldn't muster up any guilt for him, for what would happen to him. Despite how hard you’d fought it, these people were your family now and you knew it down to your bones with how hard this had hit you. You didn’t take too kindly to people fucking with your family. 

“The Liebermans, where are they?” Billy asked, his dark eyes seeming even darker as he glared at the man. 

“In-In the basement,” he muttered.

“And Rawlins?” Frank asked, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. 

“He was in the basement last I checked with them… if not then he’d be on the top floor,” the man rushed out. You knew he was probably hoping that giving the information would spare him, but you weren't stupid. Leaving loose ends would only come back to bite you in the ass and you wouldn't be taking that chance. You watched as Billy and Frank shared a look before they both stood up, Frank’s gun still trained on him and you grabbed an arrow from the quiver on your shoulder, getting it ready. The movement drew the attention of all three men and the man on the floor widened his eyes once you aimed right at his head.

“What? No, no, no! I helped you! I-” he didn’t finish his pleading as your arrow whooshed right to him, getting him through the eye socket at an angle. It did the job as he went limp and you sniffed, looking to Frank and Billy who were wearing odd looks you couldn't place.

“Let’s go then,” you muttered, turning to go to the house. Billy grabbed your wrist, halting you for a moment and you turned to face him. He gave Frank a look and Frank nodded, creeping over to the front of the cabin and leaving you and Billy there and you were confused.

“What?” you asked after he stared at you for a moment.

“You need to go wait in the van,” he said softly and a deep frown graced your face.

“Is that a joke? I came here to help, not sit with my thumb up my ass,” you bit out with a glower. 

“What’s gonna go down in there… You don’t need to see that, you don’t need to see me like that,” he frowned and you pursed your lips.

“You think I give a shit about that? Sarah and the kids are in there, Billy. You need all the help you can get, I’m not just gonna-” your words were abruptly cut off when his large hands grabbed either side of your face and before you could ask him what the hell he was doing, he was firmly pressing his lips to yours. The shock of it hit you like a train and you stood stock still as you tried to understand what was happening. But then he moved even closer, pressing his mouth to yours more insistently as his lips moved against yours. You found yourself responding to him and you felt his hands flex against your cheeks as your hands bunched into his sweater. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead on yours and you could feel how his hands shook against your face.

“Please,” he pleaded in a whisper, his dark eyes imploring and you nodded dumbly. He’d rendered you mute and stupid with that kiss and you still hadn’t wrapped your head around it. You couldn't deny him anything when he was looking at you like that. He looked relieved at your acquiescence, closing his eyes as his thumbs stroked your cheeks. He placed a soft kiss to your forehead before he moved away, giving you a meaningful look before he moved to follow after Frank who you presumed was waiting for him since you didn’t hear any gunfire or shouting. You felt strange as you made your way back over to the truck and you wasted no time in putting into drive and pulling it right outside the house in case you were needed. Despite Billy’s words, you climbed back out, bow at the ready and an arrow nocked as you leaned against the driver’s door. Something in your gut was telling you to be ready and you jumped when the sound of gunfire started. It wasn’t as loud as you knew it should be, telling you Billy and Frank weren’t the only ones using silencers and you felt tense as you fought the urge to go in there and check they were okay. You knew they could handle it. Frank was the goddamn Punisher and you knew Billy was just as lethal. The gut feeling you had was proven right as the front door flew open and a man started to make a run for it. You aimed your bow and fired without hesitation, getting him right through the neck and he hit the floor with a thud. You were anxious as you stood there for a while and then the gunfire stopped. You wound up opening the driver’s door and sitting sideways on the seat, legs dangling out as you waited. As you had nothing better to do, your mind drifted to the kiss. You could hardly believe he’d actually kissed you but any elatedness you’d felt when it happened seemed to drain right out of you as self doubt crept in. What if he hadn’t kissed you because he felt the same? What if he only kissed you to get you to leave like he wanted? Maybe he knew how you felt for him, maybe you hadn’t hidden it as well as you’d thought. The idea that he’d use your feelings against you like that made a bitter taste hit the back of your throat. You knew he cared, that much was obvious. He cared enough to want you safe no matter the cost and that’s what worried you. He saw you as family now and you had a feeling he wouldn’t be above kissing you like that just to get you to get out of harm's way. You started to feel sick. 

Movement at the front door drew you from your morbid thoughts and as you looked over, you stood up quickly as you saw Sarah and the kids coming out. Your eyes darted to each of them, trying to see if they were injured but they seemed fine. The kids ran over to you and you were surprised as they both wrapped their arms around you. You felt your lower lip wobble a little as you hugged them back, your eyes drifting to Sarah as she approached. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, pain and shame coating your words. She frowned deeply, moving to hug you once the kids had moved. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” she soothed as she rubbed your back. You knew you’d still carry this guilt for a long while, just adding to your ever growing list it seemed. She moved away, giving you a smile and you smiled back although it was weak.

“Are they okay?” you asked, gesturing with your head to the cabin. You had a feeling they would be or Sarah wouldn't have come out here smiling like she was, but you still felt the need to ask.

“Yeah… they’re taking care of Rawlins,” she murmured with a nod. You had no idea how long that would take, if you were them, you wouldn’t make it quick or easy. You nodded and let them get inside the truck since it was cold but you chose to stay out for a bit. You couldn't settle yourself now after the kiss, worry gnawing at you so badly your head was spinning all over again. You ended up sitting in the bed on the truck, bow by your feet on the off chance you needed it. You were keeping an ear out for the dead after the gunfire but you hoped there wouldn't be any, hoped that they would have been far enough away not to be drawn by the sound. You weren’t sure how long you waited there as your mind tormented you, it felt like forever but it probably wasn’t more than an hour. But Billy and Frank finally made their way outside. They were smiling and you didn’t think you'd ever seen them look lighter and you knew this was something they’d wanted for the longest time. You hopped over the side of the truck bed, boots landing in the mud with a dull thud as you watched them approach. Frank made a beeline for you, the most genuine smile on his face you’d ever seen. He looked exhausted though and you couldn't tell if it was physical or emotional, maybe both. 

“We did it,” he beamed, grabbing you in for a hug you hadn’t expected. You smiled though at the sheer relief in his voice as you hugged him back. He moved away, patting your arm, his eyes shining brightly. You looked to Billy then, expecting a hug from him too since he liked to do it over anything. Instead, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and while he still wore the same relieved smile Frank had, you could see his eyes were closed off as he looked at you and it made a stab of dread hit you in the stomach. 

“Me and Frankie were talkin’... this place is a pretty good set up. We think we should stay here for a while, see how long it lasts before we head off to the safe house,” he said softly. You nodded, feeling unsure of yourself with how he was distancing himself from you. You tried to tell yourself he’d just been through a lot. Sure this was what they wanted, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t overwhelming. They’d finally gotten the revenge they’d wanted for years, it had to feel immense. 

“It’s got solar panels, electricity… even runnin’ water,” Frank grinned and you couldn't help the smile that stretched onto your lips despite it all as you looked at him.

“Seriously?” you asked excitedly and he nodded with a chuckle. 

“Guess you’re gonna get that cabin in the woods with a rigged up water system after all,” Billy smirked and as you turned to him, hoping he was maybe coming back to himself, he still seemed so far away. Frank moved over to speak to Sarah in the van and you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so uncomfortable or awkward around Billy.

“We need you to take 'em back, tell the others to pack up their shit and bring ‘em here. Me and Frank are gonna clean house,” he murmured, eyes looking at you yet feeling like they weren’t really seeing you.

“Okay,” you nodded, your voice sounding unsure. He looked away before back at you, his mouth opening and closing for a moment like wanted to say something and his hands were still deep in his pockets. Nothing came though and he gave you a nod before he made his way back to the cabin and all you could do was watch with a frown. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, didn’t want to believe the treacherous thoughts from before that he hadn’t wanted to kiss you but he’d done it so you’d do as he told you. But you really couldn't deny the cold you felt that was coming from Billy and not the winter air, making you feel like that was exactly why he’d done it and now he felt awkward with you. Disappointment settled like a stone in your stomach as you blew out a sigh, deciding to focus on the task at hand and not the way his lips had felt against yours or how it stung when he looked at you so vacantly now. This was your own fault. You’d gotten way too attached, you’d gotten feelings for him. He couldn’t have used your feelings against you if you didn’t have them to begin with and it wouldn't have ruined the friendship you’d forged because he felt uncomfortable with you now knowing how you felt. You shook your head as you moved over to the van, ignoring the weird look Frank was giving you as you got into the driver’s side. You had no one but yourself to blame for this. 

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@ariesbutalibra

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

@celestialams

@woowwwee

@noortsshift

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 726

So apparently the Steam Next Fest is back, and I’m not sure when that happened. I could have sworn there was one during the summer, or maybe it was the other game fests hawking their wares at me during the summer.

Oh well, time hasn’t gained back its meaning since 2020.

I certainly couldn’t say no to a few (or more than a few) game demos. Not only because it allows me to know what I’m wishlisting, but it allows me to experience the things other people have made, whereas, even if I wishlist it I might never get around to it. There is a reason why it has taken me… over a decade to play Cult Simulator. 

Here are the games I’ve played so far…

Trash Goblin

Trash Goblin is where you’re a goblin who cleans up, fixes trash found and re-sells it in their shop. There doesn’t seem to be much of a story at the current moment, but the mini games that allow you to discover your treasures among the detritus and clean them up work very well, are satisfying to play and I like discovering all the items you can find in this game. I will say, for myself, beyond discovering what items I can uncover, there isn’t much driving the game. There is a potential game loop in the ability to buy visual upgrades to your shop and living space, but it’s very small at the moment.

I still have this one on my wishlist, because it’s a very adorable idea and I’m rooting for it.

Pairs and Perils

Pairs and Perils is fascinating, because it’s taking the concept of the memory game where you find cards in pairs and turning it into a combat mechanic. The idea is that the game board has pairs of cards, adventurers and their weapons. You have three tries to pair up the right adventurer with the weapon to defeat the monster. Failing three times will allow the monster to attack you. Adding a bit of complication to this, is sometimes the board will have traps, and you have to remember where the traps are to avoid them. There are also power ups for your player character to help as you do a dungeon so you’re not completely left to the whims of your memory. 

I tried this one because the idea was fascinating. Though I will admit, unless you naturally have a very good memory, this is the kind of game you want to play in the right headspace. If you’re not in the right mindset while playing or having a bad run, this game can get frustrating. This idea is really neat, I don’t know if it’s for everyone.

Lost But Found

It’s rare I get to play hidden object games that are not just point and click narratives, or where I’m looking at a complex picture to find objects hidden within. In Lost But Found, you’re playing the role of a person who mans the Lost and Found of an airport, and it’s your job to reunite passengers with their lost items. Items arrive on a conveyor belt, which you then put onto your table, and wait for people to come claim them. 

While it has some time management to it, it becomes a hidden object game, because as you progress, more and more items are piled onto your table, forcing you to rearrange those items so you can find them easier when someone comes calling. Complicating matters is that sometimes people will come, the object isn’t there (as far as you can tell) and you have to tell them. They’ll leave their number for you to call them back once you find the object.

It was a lot of fun to play. As much as I hate to admit it though, I think this game could use a fail state. There isn’t really any repercussions for not servicing a customer (only you just get less money at the end of the day to buy upgrades). Because this is a game dependent on the player to be effective in how they arrange their items as they learn what these items are, a fail state can drive a player to be better and last longer next time.

The fail state doesn’t have to be not servicing a customer, it could also just be reaching a certain amount of money at the end of each day.

Those are a few (but not all of the games) I’ve played so far. I also still have more demo games, but I have other things to do…

[auricbound]

im not rbing the post solely because i kind of interact with the younger side of the fma fandom as part of my job for a moderator of a big discord but i do wanna be able to talk about this like. somewhat as part of the whole thing i went through. little bit introspective but i think it's an important perspective to have as someone on the younger end who interacts with Both Sides.

also just kinda dumpy. nonsense ahead. i'm very mentally ill. it goes off track but im sure you can see my points in there. somewhere. i guess.

back then i was kinda like. still freshly 18 ? and i joined the rpc because i got my brainrot (which actually is a special interest i just didnt know i was autistic at the time but that's besides the point). and i was very, very desensitized to certain parts of the internet. except i was still ... vulnerable. very much so.

ignoring the fact the pandemic happened right during my highschool graduation in 2020 (meaning i was still a minor at the time), i kinda was. still rockin with my youthful energy ! and ignorance. and naivete.

i guess a good way to say it is: i was 18, but that's still ... not an adult. not really. it's a young adult. people older than me should've seen me as kind of that weird younger sibling, but instead i was made out to be a full-on same-age peer - and that ... caused issues. a lot. mainly in the bond i had with someone and how unhealthy it became because we "clicked" even though this person is 14 years older than me.

"you're mature for your age." please don't EVER say that to someone, period - but especially so in my case, because i was a young adult and i was just barely figuring out where i was in the world alongside years of built-up autistic burnout and stress finally imploding. i was only 18. i still didn't feel anywhere near "grown up" and quite frankly i still don't - that's just kinda the curse of having major life milestones during major world events.

but we wrote stuff. dark stuff. stuff i have never and will never share on the blog, nor will i ever speak about except to specific people - at least, until i'm READY to ever go public about it for one reason or another. point is - i was 18. i held my fault in broaching the topic in the first place - however gently it was - but it was even more on the fault of the other person, 14 years older than me, for never shutting it down and in fact encouraging and adding to it all. this would have been fine if things didn't explode the way they did, but - well, they exploded.

really bad. to the point that i was actively gaslit and i genuinely believed myself to be a problem because surely, it was all my fault. they had made it OUT to be my fault. i was told i was obsessed with control and that i needed help - all by someone that much older than me, all by someone who insisted that it was a black and white of child or adult, no inbetween. i couldn't ask for things only a child would get because i was an adult and i had to act like it. and that's just - not a healthy way to be. at all. ever.

just ... please, if you're going to have the age of 18 be your limit, please be mindful of the vulnerabilities of people RIGHT at that limit. i want the older folks to be mindful that we're still all figuring stuff out and we can and will fuck up sometimes - just like EVERYONE ELSE does, only maybe a little bit more unstably.

don't expect us to be perfect. in that same breath, please SHUT US DOWN if we push too far on something - we need clear boundaries, and boundaries like that were never SET with me because of the other party engaging actively. it's a complicated, fucked up mess ; i don't want anyone else to be hurt the way i did, nor do i want anyone to hurt people the way they hurt me.

i wasn't given that luxury. i was taken advantage of, and i don't ever, EVER want anyone else to go through that. this is why i'm still hesitant of people that much older than me - but i haven't even really begun to cover it all, and i don't really want to do that yet. it's hard to put these thoughts together to begin with without feeling indescribable rage at how long i had suppressed those memories that proved i wasn't at fault, not in the way i was said to be.

use that emotional maturity you have for the better. see us like little siblings, the same way peers can exist in different age groups but still communicate with eachother. just ...

be calm. and understanding. have your boundaries and ENFORCE THEM, and be kind while doing so unless given good reason otherwise. if you make 18 your limit, please treat anyone within that age range with the same respect you'd give just a newbie college student. don't ... expect full people out of us. not yet.

the pandemic fucked up everything. the economy sucks. the world is dying, and we're the ones left with it - so please just ... be kind. especially since people younger than i am are getting progressively less safety-literate. even for my generation specifically i'm on the higher end of safe, but i still was hurt by someone older than me - just not in the way most people would think of if i ever used the word for what actually happened. and that's a problem.

please, please set your boundaries. be EXPLICIT about them. do not be vague because odds are, none of them have the life experience to read between the lines like that yet. we don't have life experience period - even 20 is still so young.

i was 18 then. i turned 19 right at the end of it all. and i dealt with that for 3 whole years, all of it blaming myself in secret - until recently, that is. that talk was eye-opening and life-altering. i want to be a pillar now because of it - someone that those younger than me can turn to for help, but someone that those older than me can talk to to be able to bridge some kind of gap between them and the young adults.

i was 18 then. i don't believe anyone here will be as irresponsible as them - but i have to say this, regardless, because i may be their only victim with this experience. i was 18 then, and i've changed since - but i'm still young, still learning.

let us learn, so that you can learn from us too. we gotta work together to foster a safe community for everyone involved.

[emmacreatures]

A SUDDEN CHANGE IN HISTORY (RACING SONA INTRODUCTION)

Hi guys!! little silent but I'm SO excited! Me and my fave person @niku30 decided to watch Gran Turismo in London as a sudden movie to watch. I personally am the biggest car freak so I was so excited to go and see it together. Its even a game I used to play on the PSP as it was my first game on the console and adored it since. Not realizing they made such a stunning movie! It inspired me to write a new OC that I'm extremely excited about to show. PLEASE NOTE, I'M SO RUSTY WITH WRITING BUT I WAS SO EXCITED TO GET TO THIS!!! I'll post more soon but I'm so insanely inspired! I cannot wait to write for Niku's OC too once that sets sail! Thank you guys for reading!

It was another big day in the racing world. Mccoy was close to becoming a challenger for the so called 'head' or 'leader' of the racing world, standing number one after a big event that everyone knows about. "I'm going to kick his ass, everyone's. They dont know whats coming for them." Vernon said as he was all over himself. "You got this. Previous races you've been close, but you need to win this in order to be chosen to get in the higher rac-" Vernon's trainer said, noticing an immediate displeased look from Vernon. "You dont think I know that? I've been FIGHTING FOR THIS, Dont look at me as if I'm stupid-" "NO of course not Mccoy- I'm aware that you're aware". A whole group was all around Vernon as he really thought he was ontop of this world. Sure, its good to be confident in this type of work.. But Vernon was a spoiled bastard and known to receive constant compliments.. Having had the luck of his father being in the same business, so rolling into it made it quite easier having a known family member in the game..

While in the shadows, a slighty younger man watched the whole finesse take place, passing him without even seeing him. With crossed arms he kept his distance while the energies everywhere were immense. It was a weird world. Within a glimse of an eye, accidents could happen. You could become rich.. You could be known by the world for a skill. Sometimes luck was in the game, more than might want to admit. But while all those dangers were there and risks to take, the itch to drive.. was beyond irresistible. No one knew him like they knew Vernon. But his mother, his mother knew he was well raised enough to be a racer like Vernon was.. It was just a complicated world to begin with. Everyone hated you, no one was supportive until the dollar signs popped up.. and of course, a whole setup required alot of connections. Cayden on that hand, wasnt so lucky like vernon was. The only reason Cayden was along Vernon's group, was because of his mom's connections..

Cayden's world had always something to do with the drivers.. the races, but he never got the support he possibly needed in order to get into the big game. But that didnt stop him at all to try and get close to it. When Cayden wasn't born yet, his mom got in contact with one of the most known racers back in the day, not even having a clue on what that world was like, but the two just clicked and the rest was history.. Eventually having Cayden being brought into the world, the parents noticed Cayden's interest towards that world rather fast. Though in early stages of his growth, the relationship didnt stand for long after that as much as they tried, leaving Cayden and his mom on their own. Luckily, the father left behind some of his stuff as support, having noticed Cayden had a gift.. When it came to things in that direction. A daredevil.. Someone who wouldnt stand back for a second. He'd drive down on bicycles. Fall down hard but stand up like it was nothing, and make it more extreme along the way to challenge himself to get better.. See how far he could go. Rather fast, he'd pick up on how to handle anything in the direction of cars, how to push them. Go as far as it could go before it would be beyond repair. Find the limits, and cross them. Once Cayden arrived in his teenage era, he would go in the nights, working on a car that was far more powerful than it seemed, and drive along long highways he knew were pretty much empty at those hours. His mom figured out eventually, and sometimes worried, but deep inside she knew, he had it in him. There was something that no matter what you'd do, he'd find a way. So why should she try and stop him..

Over the time, when Cayden finally grew older, the two stayed around in the racing world due to connections, and his mom got in contact with another racer, that eventually turned more serious. Cayden was hesitant, liking to just be together with just his mom, but he too wished happiness for her, as the first break up hurt her quite alot.. Cayden however didnt realize that this new boyfriend of his mom turned out to be the head racer of the known mccoy family, Carlo, who has a son.. Vernon. Lets say that.. As Vernon and Cayden became brothers due to their parents becoming a serious couple and got married, the brothers on the other hand did not match at all. Cayden himself was someone who would never turn back from the biggest challenge and was a rough and real man (that was, what he thought of himself comparing to vernon).. While Vernon was a spoiled brat, who rolled into the world with luck of his family and bought his way into it. Cayden wanted so desperately to have a chance to race himself, and as he had moved in along the more luxurious life of Vernon and his dad after the family offered cayden and his mom a safe place to stay that was very much safe.. Cayden did misbehave at times. The mccoy family had a complete training circuit in the back of their garden, where every equipment possible was there. Cayden would sometimes sneak in there to either upgrade his own car, or take some of the cars they had to drive in the middle of the night, test his skills. While the father wasnt too approving of the rather reckless behavior, Vernon especially got beef with Cayden because of it. His mom managed to soften the rather strong reactions from the mccoy family, excusing him on behalf of her.. But as much as Carlo loved her, he did have troubles with the reckless behavior, despite he may or may not had a gift for driving. They tried to keep it rather low on the radar, but Vernon wanted to grab any moment to bring it up or bring Cayden especially down, making their connection rather difficult.

Cayden and his mom went along every race for the last few seasons. They did make sure not to put Vernon and Cayden in the same hotel rooms, as the spoiled brat would throw a complete tantrum if they did. It was hard to get used to, but seeing his mom so happy.. Made up for going through all the trouble. But his own tendencies of wanting to do things that werent allowed never slowed down. He was the worst daredevil.. and he hasnt gotten his chance yet to show his true potential but he wanted to, and would eventually. He wanted to kick Vernon's ass for continously slowing him down or make sure he got belitted. 'Behave okay, for me?' his mom said before the next race they were heading to.. Having promised to behave this once, as he stayed in the shadows and didnt interfere, which was a first this time, but man.. How badly he wanted to make that spoiled little shit trip.

"I'll be upstairs.. You're sure you want to stay here?" Cayden's mom, alissa, asked as Cayden nodded. "Yeah.. I dont like to be among carlo's group." "Thats okay, I know its still a journey for you, but i'm thankful you come along, just, come up whenever, you have the badge right?" alissa said as she pointed at the vip card she was wearing herself. Cayden just nodded, as she softly rubbed over his shoulder before leaving. Cayden just watched Vernon get ready for the race, as luckily some of Vernon's pitstop.. actually did like Cayden. They sometimes were tired of Vernon's behavior as much as Cayden was.. "Seems you guys are good on schedule. Hows the baby doing?" Cayden said as he smirked, making Trent, one of the pitstop guys, laugh. "So far he got his bottle. Seems to shut up when you just keep nodding, everything is ready though" "I know that feel." Cayden said as he looked at trent. Seeing he excused himself to get Vernon to the starting line. But that was just the beginning of today.

After that, the race started, starting pretty fine.. Cayden was just watching along the pitcrew, eventually noticing a rather annoying racer, tailgate Vernon, making him dunk firmly on the side against concrete as Vernon started cursing. But Vernon wasnt alone, right behind him, more collissions started to occur, giving a blockage. "VERNON. You're close to the pitstop, does the car still work-" "IS THAT YOUR BIGGEST CONCERN RIGHT NOW?! I MIGHT'VE BROKEN A GODDAMN BONE-" "Listen to me. People are catching up on you. you need to quickly drive here if it works or else we'll end up in-" "SHUT THE FUCK UP" Vernon said as Trent took out his earbuds as he glared.. Cayden noticed the tense behavior from all of them.. Looking at the screens as they notice the car finally did move towards them. After some minutes, Vernon managed to get the car to the pitstop, whining like a little child as he slammed on the inside of his door to get someone to open it. Due to his rather heavily response of having something broken, the whole team expected him to be in agonizing pain, as he did hold his arm, but now the biggest stress started to pile up. Was he still able to drive.. or would they loose their title. "We cant- OUCH. GENTLE- I think I BROKE MY ARM" Vernon yelled, glaring at all the help he was about to receive.. Trent however, became more serious. "Check him quick. We're falling behind from place 5th to 12th already. There's still a security car upfront.. But once thats gone we will loose any chance on restoring this mistake. Werent you so keen on bringing the title home for your dad?" Trent said as Vernon glared while telling the crew to make sure the car got its tires, got the fuel and got checked if it was safe to drive, which it did. "You're calling me a liar.. I'VE BROKEN SOMETHING. The other one should be SUED, get my laywer immediately" Vernon said with his big mouth, making Trent glare, but Cayden... Oh he was becoming furious. His reckless behavior was about to snap. "We either take this on, and you get back in that goddamn car, or it'll be over. Sueing them or whatever you want to do has to be done afterwards. Now, we NEED to get this car on the road" Trent said angry.. Making Cayden eventually step in. "you're so scared of loosing your name? Why arent you sitting back and take it like an ACTUAL man. You have no broken bone. You wouldnt be able to move it" Cayden said as Vernon was on terror mode at this rate. "you have NO right to talk to me. You're no MCCOY. You're nothing but a fucking parasite. You better stay back or i'll make sure my dad kicks you out for GOOD" Vernon said as he still held his other arm, but one of the nurses did agree it shouldnt be broken.. Maybe a big bruise at most.

The way Cayden heard Vernon speak, was his final straw.. He couldnt goddamn care what he was going to do. He knew Carlo found this competition very important.. But he wanted to prove them wrong on the view they had on himself. Without much of a hesitation, he ran into Vernon's studio, grabbed one of the suits that didnt have the damn logo of the mccoys on there out of pure spite, putted it on with godspeed, grabbed the helmet and decided to walk up to the car and jumped into it without anyone stopping him. It almost seemed now for the news that Vernon had gotten himself back into the game, but as Trent noticed what seemed to be Cayden jumping into that car, and seeing that thing HAD to leave now in order to even get a chance to regain themselves for the mccoys.. Knowing whatever he had to argue with Vernon would be a lost cause.. He just went with it, possibly doing the most illegal thing possible. "Kill them. GO" Trent said as he closed the damn window and gave the 'go'. Within seconds the car drove off.. As Vernon turned to the sound. "Wait. WHO-" He yelled as he ran to the edge, seeing his car dissapear.. For trent realized what was happening, Cayden decided to just go for it. "son of a bitch".. He whispered with a smirk.. Knowing in the dark that reckless youngster had been doing things, but this.. This was the biggest dare he could've pulled, and trent couldnt wait to see how he'd do.

Vernon started to scream, taking the microphone off of trent's workers, trying to make whoever got into his car turn. "WHO DID TAKE MY CAR-" Vernon said as he saw the smirk on Trent's face.. Knowing enough. "GET THAT FUCKING BETRAYER OUT OF MY CAR-" "Sorry Vernon.. He might be the best you got for that 'broken' arm of yours" Trent said as Vernon looked as deadly as possible. "You better wish you have a nice backup for your life.. Because you'll get fired. I'll make sure of that" Vernon said as Trent scoffed. "I'd like to see you try" Trent said as the choice that Cayden made, made him finally show his true colors on how dissaproving he was on the behavior of Vernon as well, despite he knew it would risk his job.

Meanwhile, most assumed that Vernon was the one back in his own car.. The commentators of the whole race were continuing to speak again "Alright- many are still on our repair tracks but will you LOOK at that! It seems Mccoy has picked up faster than we assumed" "Thats great to know Gordon because it was right on time.. Our track is cleared and the race is BACK in the game. Now its awaiting who WILL take that title" both men were talking as Cayden realized what he was doing as well.. Stretching his hands on the wheel before he breathed out. "This shouldnt be too complex.. Lets go" the man smirked before he saw the signs that he could give full speed, having a determined face as he was finally on the tracks he's been wanting to be for YEARS. "and they're OFF." One of the commentators was saying as Vernon in the meantime tried to get through their center, to reveal he was infact not in his car, and trying to get Cayden in jail for whatever activity he was pulling.. That was how extra vernon was. "HE DOESNT EVEN HAVE A TRUE LICENSE- GET HIM BACK NOW" Vernon yelled at his crew as they all moreso watched the screens.. All being in a quite disbelief that Vernon's car was already bumped up from 12th place to 5th within the few seconds he was driving.. "for not having a license, he's getting the hang of this better than most in the back" Trent said as he was in awe. Each turn and speed control was far more advanced than trent had expected. He knew Cayden went places and had a very daring energy.. But this.. This was baffling to see. "IS ANYONE EVEN LISTENING TO ME?!" Vernon said as he went to the area his dad and team were sitting.. Trying to call the commentators on trying to stop Cayden or at least get him expelled to never drive again. He got more and more furious to notice he was GOOD. More than just good. Not to mention that Cayden out of precaution deactivated the microphone so no one could yell at him or try and stop this. Meaning as well that this man had no help when driving, making this whole activity extremely dangerous. He couldnt be warned or put through any tips or hints that could potentially save him should it come to it. This was his own choice.. And the most crazy for sure.

Cayden smirked as he was as focused as one could think, noticing the previous driver that tailgated Vernon and make him slam into the side, tried to stop Cayden as well.. Not knowing he wasnt Vernon. With just a low laugh, he managed to dodge the several attempts before passing him wirh speed and pressing firmly on the gas pedal, as if it was his second nature.. making everyone stare more at all the screens that showed all around the area. Eventually, Vernon got contact with the commentators "Hello this is Michael and gordon speaking, you do realize we're in the midst of this race?-" "SOME BLOODY ASSHOLE TOOK MY CAR AND IS ON THE TRACKS RIGHT NOW. YOU NEED TO STOP HIM" Vernon said as both commentators became silent. "Wh- Who is this?" "Its VERNON MCCOY YOU- GET THIS MAN OUT OF MY CAR". The whole group handling the audience, hearing the news all frowned.. Who was in the damn car that was slowly getting closer to the front.. "Who is... In your car then Vernon?" "HE'S MY- TECHNICALLY NOT BLOOD RELATED BUT HE's my- WHATEVER. his name is CAYDEN CRUZE. Make that name be heard so he can be expelled, removed, and taken from any possible race EVER" Vernon said as he wanted to break the phone at this rate, making Alissa, who sat with carlo in the same room.. Overhear some of the people who handle everything.. That there was a sudden. Change in racing.

"Well guys, I just got told the one driving Vernon mccoy's car isnt our usual driver. The racer just called us personally, from his pitstop" Michael said as the whole audience started to make noise. "then who is this secret masked racer driving the vehicle Michael?" Gordon asked as everyone got curious. Carlo and Alissa were just minding their business, as Carlo's immediate reaction was turn to Alissa.. with worry. "well whoever he is, he can drive. To make it all the more interesting for everyone, we even got the confirmation this secret driver does NOT have his license yet." Michael said as Gordon laughed. "illegal or not Michael, this might be the first time I dare say I like to see where this is heading" Gordon said strong, as everyone got cheerful almost, seeing how well Cayden was doing. Meantime, Cayden was getting closer to the front, having upmost control as he sat as steady as one could think, feeling alive... "Common.. You have your first and perhaps final chance. Make it count" Cayden was whispering, noticing no one stopping him yet, so he gave his best.. "I cant believe my eyes Gordon.. But, is our secret driver coming close to the first place" "I believe you're right Michael. He's like a phantom driver, maybe the most fearless I've seen in a while, and unstoppable at it too." Gordon said as he followed up. "He's going at full speed, with incredible precision and no fear. I see no single hesitation, is he going to make it? A rookie, with no license, managing to become 1st in this qualification of these professionals?" The commentators said as the whole crowd started to go crazy, seeing how vernon's car was getting closer to first place.. Doing the impossible. The mccoy team was hoping to perhaps make it to 5th at least.. But cayden, took it a next level. Something the world has never seen so far. "FINAL ROUND, and he's catching up on the one in front row, I cant BELIEVE IT" The commentators couldnt stop yelling about cayden, making the whole audience go mad. Alissa, who was in absolute disbelief, having heard via via its his own son, watching every step as Carlo himself was silent.. Having to realize he was so impressed by this guy, having underestimated him far too much. Cayden became a new phenomon already, and the race wasnt even over. It wasnt even his own car. This rookie.. Was making history.. But he had a feel that despite many were amazed, he was doing the most illegal things right now, possibly having to pay for them later, but this opportunity was something he couldnt let go off. Even to see Vernon's mad face was enough to make his day.

"Come on.. Lets dance" Cayden said as he started crawling close to the one on first place, feeling the car's engine was getting close to its limits, but it didnt stop him.. He proved to himself he can feel if he gets too far.. The final stretch was getting closer and closer.. The whole audience was going mad, cheering for this unknown racer on one of the most difficult courses there were. To beat those that wanted to qualify for the big guys, and them getting wrecked by a new racer who had never shown its face yet... Just the thought of that was crazy right? A new legend to test the grounds, and possibly spice older racer's their life, to challenge them again, throw things alive. Everything Cayden was doing was right above the edge of safe.. This man would push anything that he could. "Is he going to do it?" alissa said as she stepped closer to the screens, seeing the car getting right next to the one on first place, as the engine of vernon's car was getting roasted.. But it still held on, which seemed impossible. "A little more.." Cayden whispered as he went as fast as he could, almost flying as he felt the car about to spike above what it could take, but he figured.. This might be his only shot before getting removed from the races for good, so why not take what he has now.. Just that extra bit of fearless energy managed to get him right upfront.. In the final lap. "I cant believe it. He's ahead.. HE'S GOING TO MAKE IT. I CANT BELIEVE MY EYES" The commentators kept yelling as the noise of vernon's care echoed over the whole course.. Before he actually made it as number one on the race.. Vernon's entire crew started to jump, yell on the fact they were number 1 for once. Making the whole entire audience jump out of their chairs as Alissa was silent.. Turning to Carlo.. "I knew he had.. a feel for this but.. I never expected him to pull something like this. I'm sorry Carlo. I didnt know he'd.." Alissa said as Carlo raised his head, but had the sweetest expression. "I underestimated him, thats my mistake for not looking past his possible opportunities than him stealing our cars every now and then 'innocently'.. but you must realize my love, he did just cross about 10 rules that are unacceptable.. There's no way he can be considered to continue in this world if you start like this" Carlo said as Alissa nodded slowly, receiving a kiss on her hand before Carlo decided to go down.. and see how this could escalate.

Cayden smirked as he noticed he actually kicked everyone's butt, but after coming back to the cockpit, he realized that there were some things waiting for him. At least he made a print. Trent walkes up to the car that smelled burned almost.. Seeing a bit of smoke of the heat of the car and seeing the damage on the wheels.. and yet, the car maintained to be fine. He had the senses for it, trent thought, as he opened the window to let Cayden out. "Not bad kid.. You hid alot of this away huh. I knew you had some type of feel but.. this?..." Trent said as he softly shook his hand, before Cayden heard some aggresive stomping his way as most people clapped at first.. "YOU ALL BETTER FUCKING STOP YOUR CHEERING." Vernon said as Cayden was ready to fight. "you wanted to save your family's name? Here is the one time I actually helped you. I FIXED IT" Cayden said reckless as he knew he put gasoline into the fire. "NO you didnt help me. you didnt fucking fix it. You wanted to take a piss on me and my whole fucking family. MY CAR IS ROASTED. Do you have ANY IDEA HOW MANY RULES YOU BROKE? YOU'LL BE DISQUALIFIED ANYHOW BECAUSE YOU WENT WITH MY CAR. MY CREW. YOU DONT BELONG HERE. YOU'RE SO DEAD CRUZE" Vernon said as he wanted to start a fight, grabbing Cayden at his clothing as some of his pitcrew pulled them apart immediately.

"ENOUGH."

The silence was heard when Carlo called it once.. Creating tension in the room as he made sure everyone stepped back. "Cayden. Follow me" Carlo said as Cayden frowned.. Showing no fear again.. But Vernon was just smirking wide to assume he'd get the worst possible.. "Just get inside, answer all questions. Be honest." Carlo said threatening in his own way, making Cayden frown as he entered the room.. Seeing many interviewers, but specificially a big investor he recognized from several racers, but only the best.. "So this.. Is our phantom driver?" the head person of the group said as Cayden nodded "Yes sir".

"Whats your name?" He asked as the tension was spiking.. "The name's Cayden Cruze". "Alright Cayden.. From what I've heard, you're a rather new driver. You've possibly heard of the various rules you've crossed illegally, in order to do what you just managed to do" "I'm aware.." "And you still stand by it. If you had a chance like that again, with its risks, would you do it?" "I would. I still stand by it.."

"Well good news Cruze, you might be thrown out of a group you've never been with.. Or registrated, so.. You might wanna look at your own" The man said as Cayden showed a slight surprised look.. "Our head racer.. Is getting close to retirement, and we like supporting the more exceptional. and since you're placed on number 1 and made history, despite it might not be set in stone, getting you that license wont be too much of a problem" The man said as Cayden needed some time to process. "Dont get me wrong, but.. So far, everyone in my surroundings, made aware that due my actions, i cant possibly get a chance to ever return on these grounds". "Maybe never on these grounds again but from seeing your stance, your energy.. That wouldnt stop you.. you'll have to start on your own, from scratch, and we want you. We think you'll become a danger to the professionals, and its exactly what we hoped to find. We just didnt know what exactly" the man said as Cayden felt more strong in his shoes. Finally, he got a righteous response.. No longer having to be in the shadows either. His reckless behavior got him where he wanted to be.. "so, what do you say Cruze?"

"I'm all in".

Within minutes, it was the biggest hit on the news for everyone to see.. Becoming a worldwide phenominon.. Cayden cruze shall soon hit the real grounds, driving among those that were known for years, challenging those... Who knows what might occur or happen..

[vitusxaydin]

The Many Masks of Vitus Aydin

Recently, a friend and I got to talking about gender—the ways we sit with it, express it, perform it, and stifle ourselves with it. They used the concept of masks to define their own relationship to it, describing a set from the "masculine box" and another set from the "feminine box." How they had tried all these different masks on, over the years, and discovered which ones fit and didn't fit.

Vitus's relationship to gender and self-expression is... complicated, to say the least. And I found myself wondering, in the wake of this conversation, what masks he'd tried on over the course of his life. Which he kept, which he rejected, and which he'd been forced into by circumstance along the way.

So, I started thinking up a list for him. Grabbed a shovel and dug until I figured it out.

Here it is.

(P.S. Nobody asked for this; I just had a brain blast and wanted to put all the thoughts somewhere. Feel free to take this half-baked prompt and make your own version of it, if you find it clicks with the way you develop your kiddos!!)

Feminine Masks That Fit

Nurturing Caregiver

Vitus's tendency to look after people developed young. He's always had a craving to soothe people, even when it comes at the expense of himself. He has the unconditional love and support of a parent around most people he meets. But the way he expresses it—with compassion and gentleness and peace—inherently leans into this feminine archetype, to the point where I associate him more with the label mother than father.

Hopeless Romantic

The bright-eyed, bushy-tailed young girl who watches Hallmark movies and has a Pinterest board for her future wedding and dreams of the day she finds her forever love? Yep, that's him. He loves this one.

Divine Feminine

When I think of the divine feminine, I think intuition, compassion, and love, most of all. These things have always come pretty naturally to him, including when he was younger and trying to stifle them. Even when he has trouble reading body language or the minutia of what a person says, he can sense feelings very well. He also experiences an intense interconnectedness with everything around himself—every being and source of life. If you've seen him cry over small animals, this mask is the reason why.

Empathetic Conformist

AFAB folks are often socialized to perceive their needs as secondary to others', in order to caretake better. Vitus was raised and socialized as a man, but throughout his late teens and early twenties, when he was in the most pain he's ever experienced, he curled in on himself. He learned how to adapt, to become what people needed, to let others lean on him even when he didn't have the space for it. This mask, usually assigned to the eldest daughters of traditional families, fits him well.

Spacial Survivalist

Like the previous mask, this one comes with a price. Since power and violence are so gendered in our society, AFAB folks conduct themselves differently than AMAB folks do (at least, in my experience). AFAB folks are, on average, far more conscious of how they move through spaces, how others perceive them, and most of all, whether they are safe or in danger where they are. Vitus donned this mask during his time as a sex worker, and it fits so well sometimes that it frightens him.

Intentional Dresser

This one's pretty self-explanatory. It tends to be viewed as more feminine than masculine, to put careful consideration and fine detail into one's wardrobe, grooming, and aesthetic preferences. Vitus is very intentional about how he presents himself, so this mask fits.

Sensual Conduit

Consider, for a moment, those scenes in movies where a woman enters and the energy of the room changes in response. Or where a female character, confident in her skin, draws attention without even realizing it. While I don't think Vitus's energy is quite as pervasive or noticeable, I have found that people tend to be drawn into him. There's a certain, inherently feminine sensuality to his energy, to the way he carries himself, a quiet, confident gentleness that pulls people into his space. And the word "conduit" rang true here because of the way he channels people, and lets them channel him in return—giving them the comfort and safety to step into his energy, to find and explore their own, to exist as their most authentic selves. Vitus first put on this mask when he started escorting, and he loves the way it's settled on him ever since.

Feminine Masks That Don't Fit

Head Bitch in Charge

This mask almost read "girlboss." If you tried to take the term "girlboss" and turn it into a mask and strap it to Vitus's head, he'd cry. Fold, instantly.

Happy Homemaker

AKA the person who cooks and cleans and keeps a tidy home and loves every second of it. Vitus has tried this mask on for size, and he certainly fits in the cooking and cleaning departments. But while these tasks make him happy, he’s not content to stay at home and devote himself to them. Vitus prefers to be on the move, always trying new things and meeting new people. The mask of a housewife, though comforting, would stifle him if he wore it all the time.

Manic Pixie Dream Girl

Vitus may be in *perpetual* distress, but that's because I've strapped him onto a bus headed straight for hell, not because he's a helpless damsel. That quirky, eccentric, childlike female character... he's never tried this one on, and I don't think he has any interest in doing so.

Siren

It’s no great secret that physical intimacy is important to Vitus. But the idea of using his sexuality in that stereotypically manipulative way—like the sirens in The Odyssey, luring men to their deaths—doesn't sit well with him. Even while he was an escort, even when he's at his flirtiest, his version of seduction is tender, not designed with any need for power in mind.

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

Masculine Masks That Fit

Breadwinner

This one’s pretty straightforward. Vitus had this mask laid out for him by his father at a young age, and it’s one of the few he’s inherited that suits him. When he’s with a partner, he enjoys being the one to put his name on the mortgage, pay for fancy dinner dates, buy gifts, etc. There was a time in his life where he didn’t have the money to do these things, so he doesn’t take it for granted now.

Selfless Devotee

When I think of Vitus, I think of a man on his knees in worship. He approaches the world, especially the people in it, with a reverence that borders on religious significance. Indeed, when he lost his religion in his early twenties, intense human connection is what spread to fill the void left in its wake. He’s every bit as devout as his father. But what they pray to is entirely different.

Loverboy

As I recently discovered, loverboy can mean two things: a player, or a lover who’s soft and sweet. He more comfortably fits into the latter—when he’s with someone in the capacity of a partner, he tends to be playful, charming, and boyish. As for the player aspect of this… well. He does play the field, but in his own way, that hinges upon his offering himself rather than taking from others.

Self-Assured Charmer

This mask is for the man who holds himself with confidence and can rely on his mouth to carry him through any room he enters. On the flipside of Vitus’s feminine sensuality, you’ll find this: that inherently masculine, sturdy confidence to move through new spaces, talk to anyone, and charm or flirt the pants right off them. If Vitus were a D&D character, charisma would be his highest score.

Black Sheep

The black sheep of the family is usually depicted as the brother who wears too much leather and smokes too many cigarettes, or the son who made too many wrong choices and has become that thing no one mentions during family dinners. Between choosing to not go to college, having unsteady jobs, and being queer, Vitus is very much the black sheep of his own family. He wishes he could get rid of this mask.

Big Brother

Caretaking, but in a masculine, platonic way. He’s the big brother to most of his friends—there when you need him, ready to hold your secrets, constantly looking out for you even when you don’t realize it. This mask is most often noticeable on him when he’s around a younger crowd, as these are the folks he tends to be most protective of.

Architect

Vitus became good at building in his twenties. He’s learned how to erect his own spaces, everything from settling into a hotel during a weekend trip or designing the interior of a new home. Intention, sentiment, and security drive every aesthetic choice he’s ever made as an adult, moving somewhere new.

Masculine Masks That Don't Fit

Born Fighter

You’ve heard the old saying, he’s a lover, not a fighter. When Vitus was younger, he tried on the mask of fighter. Tried meeting the world with a harder version of masculinity because it made things easier on him at home. But he didn’t like it, and these days, it doesn’t come as an instinct. He rarely yells, he doesn’t like picking arguments, and please, for the love of god, do not ever put him in a situation that’s physically violent. He tends to freeze up in fights.

Assertive Guardian

While he’s protective in a big brother way, he’ll never be protective to the point of overstepping someone else’s boundary. Certainly not the type to show up unannounced and tell you what for. And he’s most definitely not going to be unwavering in his convictions, always ready to stick to his guns. It doesn’t take much to make this man doubt himself, so this mask doesn’t fit well.

Entrepreneur

Vitus might be self-made in many ways, but the mask of entrepreneur doesn’t sit right on his face. He isn’t interested in success in a professional way, just wants enough financial stability to keep food on the table and live a fulfilling life. His inclination toward charm is designed for fun and building relationships, not schmoozing. If you put him in a business meeting, he could run the show, but he’d hate it the whole time.

American Dreamer

A nice house in the suburbs? A white picket fence? A man who pulled himself up, impossibly, by his bootstraps? Don’t make him put this one on. It’s a standard he feels he was never destined to achieve.

Immigrant Son

Whew. This one. Vitus tried to make this mask fit in his childhood and teens. As the son of an immigrant, he was expected to get perfect grades in school, make something of himself, and comfortably exist in two different lives at once: his American one, and his Turkish one. While Vitus loves his ethnicity and the culture of his father—everything from the language to the food to the folk dances—he’s found he’s not so good at meeting most of the expectations that came with his father’s decision to carve out a life for himself in a new country. As the only child, the only son—if Vitus didn’t succeed, reap the “benefits” of his father’s choice, who would? It was too much pressure for his little shoulders to bear.

Aggressive Conqueror

This is for that guy who doesn’t take no for an answer, or views the life around himself as opportunities to win. Vitus doesn’t do these things. He’s never tried, and he has no interest in it. He’s left this mask to other men, who use their hunger and drive in more upfront ways. And I think he admires the way it looks on other men; this mask just never fit himself.

It goes without saying, but these masks are all part of the way Vitus performs his gender, and that performance ebbs and flows with him.

If he’s around a more traditionally masculine person, one he wants to impress, he may feel more comfortable donning the masc ones to match their energy. If he’s around a masc person who makes him feel safe to be himself, he tends to fall back on his feminine masks.

Likewise, around feminine people, he may relax into his more feminine qualities if there’s space, or he may adopt more of the masc ones to try to balance the other person out. With his ex-girlfriend, his most prominent masks were breadwinner, selfless devotee, and nurturing caregiver. Around masculine strangers, he naturally falls back on self-assured charmer and spacial survivalist. The list goes on.

All of this to say: Vitus is a cis man, but he contains multitudes :)

[mageofminge]

ok update to this (fuck this is long brace yourselves guys) i finally did da crossroads bc idk homie has been delaying so much shit for so so so many reasons. and i uh got a binder and tried it on and i was expecting this rlly transcendental amazing feeling of like everything clicking but just. nothing happened idk. it was very meh. and like ig i was disappointed bc it wasnt suuuuuper flattening. and then like as i started wearing it i was like oh whatever its kind a neutral and now tits are also just v neutral and idfk. and its like sometimes i do wanna be super super femme and mommy and like have my tits pushed up to my chin etc etc but its been oscillating so fucking much lately idek. also maybe wanna properly try out binder and pronouns combo (irl) bc so far ive just been wearing it with the like classic tboy hawaiian shirt and not telling anyone ab it. and then also i think bc. i had been so stressed ab exams and sad ab other standard english bureaucracy bs i havent rlly had the time to mope ab gender like i did last year. but then also bc my current beef has kinda been shitty ab my eggy feelings (in a like waah i dont like change and i dont think i could stay with you typa way not a trans ppl arent valid typa way) but then also kinda trying to convince me to never actually transition beyond wearing a binder bc he loves titty so much and how i would never socially integrate with cis men (bc smth ive brought up is increased difficulty socialising with women vs men but again idk how much of that is a trans thing and how much of that is an autism thing). and then also bc hes said oh i kinda wished i was a woman and then it'd be easier with queer shit and getting with ppl but then proceeded to say hes okay with his agab and he doesn't think hed be happier as a transwoman than as a cis man and he kinda assumes im just thinking the same way. and now im worried that all his views on the gender stuff are affecting how im perceiving my own gender and how much of me wanting to be hot goth mommy is a genuine gender envy or whatever and how much of it is just wanting to attract certain ppl. and even more complicated bc im poly (and so is beef) and theres this tgirl i want to be with but she prefers women and wants to be buried in the titty but i also rlly wanna explore my gender more and try out male pronouns irl but im scared to ask her bc it might put her off me entirely and its this rlly frustrating situation of i want to be open with her and basically get an expert opinion (bc her egg cracked when she was around my age) and like she knows i wear a binder and shit but not everything else. anyways lemme ask the audience bc i can never decide anything for myself am i actually a massive egg and just a ppl pleaser, or am i more gnc coded?

girl help im currently at a crossroads which can be delayed no longer and i do not know whether i should take the road of coasting along, yet living a life unfulfilled, or if i should instead take a path that will most definitely be both my downfall and my salvation

[nullians]

.

[luveline]

you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]

summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model

word count: 2.4k

tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers

It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.

You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.

You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.

You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.

He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.

"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.

You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.

The whole school knew, naturally.

"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina,  to the twins.

"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.

"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.

"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.

You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.

Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.

"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."

You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.

"Uh..."

"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.

"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.

"It's charcoal."

"What?"

"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."

He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.

It didn't matter.

"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."

You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."

"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"

"... You want the drawing?"

"I'd love it, if that's okay."

"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."

He handled it with care.

The librarian jingled her little bell again.

"Thank you. So, see you?"

"Yep," you agreed.

He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.

-

You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.

You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.

When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.

He looked much too brunette.

You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.

Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.

Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...

You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.

The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.

In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.

"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.

You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.

"Hi, dolly."

"Weasley."

"Oh, not even a first name?"

"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.

"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.

"Hi, Weasley."

He smirked.

"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"

"Nah. You never stand still."

"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.

He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.

His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.

You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.

You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.

After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.

Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.

"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."

"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."

Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."

You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."

"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."

You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."

"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."

You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.

"Thank you."

He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."

"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."

"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.

You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.

It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.

"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.

"It's a memory box."

"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."

You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.

"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."

"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"

"Not on your life."

"They're perfectly edible!"

"Sure, Fred."

-

The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.

"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"

"They thought you were sleeping!"

A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.

It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?

Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.

"Is it a prank?"

"You're thinking too small."

"A new product?"

"Still need to go bigger!"

"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.

"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."

"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.

"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."

"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"

Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."

"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.

"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."

"This is goodbye?"

"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"

"What do you want to ask me?"

Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.

"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.

"You will?"

"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.

Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.

He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.

"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.

"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.

Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"

You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.

He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."

Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."

[bnha-simpin-and-pimpin]

I want a Shoto who thinks you’re annoying and hates you just like he hates everyone else when he first gets to UA. “I’m not here to make friends” He tells you.

He hates the way you always try to include him in things. You ask him if he wants to come to mall with you and Midoriya or study with you and Bakugo. “No, why would I study with others when I can read on my own”

I want a Shoto who realizes that he’s been kind of mean to you despite your kindness towards him. After the Sports Festival, when Midoriya finally knocks some sense into him, he thinks a lot about how he’s been acting. He reaches out to you and asks if he can study with you this weekend.

Of course he can join you! You usually go to Midoriya’s house because you live so far outside of the city. Sometimes you see Bakugo when you go to the convenience store in town but he always gets huffy and tells Deku to go away. The exchange gets a smile out of Shoto. It makes him realize some of the fun things he might be missing out on. It makes him realize how not normal his life might actually be.

I want a Shoto who slowly starts to confide in you and realizes…yeah…maybe…maybe he’s the fucked up one….but you still seem to enjoy being around him! And you sometimes tell him weird things! Like that one time you got up from his bed and had bled through your pants. You were so embarrassed that you just started sobbing. You couldn’t even form any words! He had to give you a very long hug to get you to stop. Seeing you cry like that made his chest hurt and he couldn’t help but reach for you. “I remember my mother held me like this when I was really young. It always made me feel better”

I want a Shoto who doesn’t really understand the things he feels. He sees his classmates giggling about boyfriends and girlfriends, people on TV holding hands and kissing…but he’s not seen love like that. His parents don’t love each other. His family sucks. But sometimes Fuyumi holds his hands when she would see him off to school, however, now that their in the dorms she can’t do that. The only other people who hold his hands are Midoriya [to see how his quirk effects him physically] and you. Occasionally, he can convince you to hold them just because. You’re a bit to shy to hold hands in front of your classmates so the only time he can get you to hold his hand is in private or when he takes you somewhere. He doesn’t mind though. Going out and holding hands is fun in its own way.

I want a Shoto who doesn’t realize he’s been doing all the things a boyfriend does and has you thinking you’re dating but really he has no idea what’s going on. “This is a Date? When did we start dating?” He’s confused, you’re confused, you’re upset and are either going to cry or tear him a new one, and Shoto can’t seem to figure out what to say next. He wants to hold your hand all the time, he takes you to the mall or the movies or just out somewhere, he talks to you all the time, you do homework together, talk about feelings….oh…well maybe looking at it all together it does look like he was trying to advance to something more than friendship.

It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy being with you. He just…Shoto can’t do much else but shrug his shoulders. “What does a boyfriend really do anyways? If I already do all those things then what’s the difference” it’s just all so complicated. And for no reason. He listens to you explain how you actually enjoy being around him and he’s funny sometimes and he’s smart and these aren’t things you really feel with other people. Something clicks when you say that. Because he doesn’t feel this way with other people. He doesn’t feel nearly as relaxed or invested or curious about them. You make him want to go and do things he wouldn’t usually do because you’re there and he likes seeing you smile and laugh. If that’s what dating is…then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

[brazenlystrong]

Just the light noise of Suguru taking a seat on the bed is enough to release the breath Satoru doesn't even know he's holding and snap him out of his mild worry trance. Satoru moves to sit beside Suguru, leaning forward with his elbows resting atop his knees and his hands mildly fidgeting. His eyes trail, looking to the side, and capturing Suguru's tired facial features. It's evident to Satoru. Suguru seems composed but his leaden aura heaves and roils with the hushed consistency of untold embitterment. What could be on his mind right now? As much as Satoru can comprehend what Suguru may be thinking just by looking at him, some things that lay beneath should be discussed. Otherwise, most of the time miscommunication leads to complications.

To Satoru, it is better that he encountered Suguru instead of having to try and converse with Yaga about the same thing. At this point, it isn’t even about being alone on missions. Rather, Satoru prefers it. That way none of his companions will get dragged in or accidentally get caught in his technique. But Suguru’s absence felt like a piece of him was torn and locked away so his only option is to rebel and get it back.

When Suguru speaks, Satoru listens. It’s something he didn’t expect to hear from his friend. He would think that the answer is obvious. Even Suguru had to reason with him about the sorcerer’s duty to protect non-sorcerers.

Being righteous…? I… hate that stuff!

And he still does. There is more to Jujutsu than what they use it for. Although, there really isn’t anything else that Satoru would use it for as he’s abiding by the rules whether he wants to or not. Ever since Gojo went through enlightenment after the fight with Toji, he saw the world differently. All that power that courses through him— it’s a gift. Jujutsu is a means of strength and the ones at the top would succeed. Satoru is quite apathetic towards anyone he deems weak, thus he is indifferent about having to be responsible for the lives of others. Losing all of his empathy for Riko’s death also served him a win against Toji. To let go of all responsibility, of all attachments, has brought him to a higher place. But when he is made to save others, he must be considerate of anyone else besides himself. And that could get in the way of his success.

Suguru has always been an exception. Satoru views him as his equal. Together they are the strongest. They can go far and beyond. Even more than they’ve achieved— if it wasn’t for all that which is holding them back.

“ For nothin’, ” Satoru replies nonchalantly. “ Tho, am I catching this right? You’re questioning the point of all this responsibility they’ve put on us? ”

He clicks his tongue.

“ Protecting the weak gets us nowhere. We’re stuck in place with no progress. Why should I care what happens to others? When we’re the ones being sucked the life out of ? ”

Gojo falls back onto the mattress, his arms spread out, and stares at the ceiling.

“ Sometimes I wish I could just ditch this school, honestly. ”

@brazenlystrong | » cont. «

╰ Suguru should have been able to conquer this by himself. He thought he could, thought himself strong enough to overcome it alone. He should have been able to sort through his thoughts rationally, work through them using his logic and convictions. He was good at that. Always had been. At focusing his mind, steeling it, his resolve unshakable when fighting for something he believed in.

But...that was the entire issue, wasn't it? Belief. He didn't know what he believed in anymore. If he believed in anything at all. Couldn't discern right from wrong, couldn't justify his action, the actions of all those at Jujutsu High. What he'd seen—what he witnessed—what all of them endured had become, in his mind, a paradox that brutalized them all, one he could no longer explain away. It used to be that Suguru tugged at this string of yarn, and the entire skein unraveled smoothly. Now, the more he pulled, the more it tangled, a singular knot with countless malignant tumors holding it together.

Their lives were truly dictated by monkeys. How was this fair?

And yet, as though his heart was still trying to fight against what his reason was starting to make him believe, Suguru found himself in front of Satoru's dorm room. Soon after, inside; then, sitting on the edge of his bed. Suguru was silent for a long moment, looked at his hands.

Those hands that could murder monkeys so easily, if he wanted to. If he wanted.

...When he wanted.

"Satoru." He didn't look up. His voice croaked—gone was the soft coo whenever he spoke his best friend's name. "What are we doing this all for?" A question that Suguru had asked himself over and over again lately. He had to yet find an answer he was satisfied with. "What are we trying to achieve?"

[rotshop]

help girl i just woke up and im already thinking abt mag s/o again. anyway please consider ;

[ tw body horror, some brief light gore and violence ]

[ note ; reader is SLIGHTLY described. the only thing mentioned is that they have a noticeable, identifying scar on their face

hank + mag s/o

-he knew you even before the boombox incident. he doesn't even really remember how you two first met, he just remembers that you started talking to him and then just kinda kept coming back. at first he wasn't the biggest fan of you since he was 'doing just fine on his own,' but...he admittedly was already really attached to you. they've never been much of a talker and that's especially noticeable to you at that point in time but ,,, they respond enough with signing, nodding / shaking their head, or the occasional speaking that you're able to carry some conversations pretty well.

-he doesn't really. have. a lot of people in his life. you're really his only real close friend, it's kinda hard for him to fully wrap his head around it so !! they chose not to, instead focusing more-so on whatever it was you were rambling to them about that day.

-not super sure of where to put this lmao but ummm ehe . he's actually surprisingly touchy with you????? like. you've hung out at his house a few times and he just like. you'll start out sitting next to each other and you'll end up either laying with your head on their chest or vice versa . its . a little funny . you tease him about it a little and he just flicks your shoulder. also traces your scar a lot if you'll let them, they're not entirely sure why they do it, they just . like asking you about it occasionally.

-also you have scary dog privileges. they might look like any other grunt at that point but they're still tall as fuck and idk man !! something abt getting a blank stare from someone who towers over u would probably make u shut up and mind ur own damn business.

-again, he's not super good at fully recognizing / acknowledging certain thoughts and feelings of his but . yknow. he can definitely tell he at least worries about you a lot more than he would some other grunt he just met. he can definitely tell there's a reason he doesn't mind you touching him, whether by grabbing his hand to go show him something or just placing a hand on his shoulder or arm (most likely arm, again. hes tall. ). they can definitely tell there's a reason that they find themself genuinely enjoying your interactions.

-after the park thing you don't see them for a long time. everytime you try and call him the lines dead, everytime you try and ask others about him you just get choice words, all in all you're pretty much lost on the entire thing. sure, you know what happened but . it just never sits right with you. it doesn't help whenever people ask questions about them or give you wary looks because of your association, half steps back when you take one forward.

-anyway. yeah nevada goes to shit and you get magnified for the aahw. by now you just. don't really talk about hank. surprisingly, you have a little more of your old memories than the average mag !! congrats. problem is they're all foggy enough that you only really distantly decipher them. lmao. you aren't super high on the ladder but you're a pretty tough mag to beat. you're well known enough that other mags tend to hang around you when there's not much else going on. v2 mags especially think it's fun to mess around with you by jumping on your back or otherwise clinging onto you . idk man u've got like . a little family here .

-at one point or another there's an outing youre on that ends up going wrong. you get split up from the rest of your unit and are forced to hide out in some old abandoned building while you wait for backup. you're a little too injured to try and walk all the way back, a heavy gash on your side preventing you from doing too much in the moment. when you hear heavy steps on concrete you're able to give some sort of noise of relief, turning your head to look over your shoulder at whichever agent in your group had finally found you-

-you're instead met with red goggles and the end of a gun.

-any kind of relief is snatched away, you know damn well who it is by just the bit you can see in the dark alone. even standing in the shade between two windows (one of which you were sitting by, probably how they seen you in the first place- if that's the case though, it's a little weird they hadn't just shot at you through it.) you knew it was him. you're already stumblingly forcing yourself up to as much of your full height as you can manage, taking some kind of defensive position even as one of your hands ghosts over your gash. the throbbing pain of it and the feeling of blood sticking and running down your skin is enough that you can't seem to focus on the fact that he won't stop staring at your face.

-it doesn't take long before your legs seem to fail you, forcing you forward a bit as you kneel in some sort of attempt to keep upright. you're too busy hissing under your breath and screwing your eyes shut in pain as your hand covers your side to notice your company stepping forwards. you're snapped back to attention when there's a hand on your face, fingertips digging into your skin as they yank your head down a little further. you know you should be grabbing him, that you should be digging your claws into his torso and ripping him clean in half, throwing whatevers left aside and leaving. you know thats what you were told to do, what you were told they deserved anyway. yet, you aren't. instead, you're just giving some warning growl as you stare at them. you notice how the end of the gun is pointed away from you, how their touch seems to outline the mark on your face.

-"If you try and hurt me, I'll kill you." That's the only real heads up you get before he's crouching down and shoving your hand out of the way, grabbing something from his pocket to get to work on you. you don't fail to notice how little attention they're paying to you (aside from the focus on your wound, of course), that you could just rush forward and slam them into the ground if you really wanted.

-ok im skippin g ahead bc this is already way too goddamn long for hcs DEJWJCS

-anyway. it's a complicated relationship for a while. the others tend to avoid you a little but he just keeps showing up around you. they keep staring at you and just hanging around in your general area. it's not that much of an irritant if you ignore all the weird emotions and thoughts it keeps bringing to the forefront of your mind, forcing you to once again try and meddle with your memories.

-eventually he just starts walking over to you and sitting down next to you. sometimes he doesn't say anything at all, just sitting there and seeming to wait for one thing another- he never seems to find whatever that is, as he always gets up and leaves without a word at some point or another. then they start talking, its just little things at first, point-blank statements you can't say much on. sometimes they're just saying they and the other three will be gone for a bit othertimes it's some half-demand to let them look at the stitches they did on you (semi-related, he's not good at them. the stitches are pretty rough. at one point or another sanford has to redo them properly lmao)

-but then there's one particular night. they do the normal thing, come over, sit down next to you, not say a word. this time though you note how they're facing you. instead of some reminder or a demand for anything, he's pulling his ask down and asking a simple question. 'What do you remember?'

-it's a long conversation. he's talking more than he normally would by a long shot, occasionally stopping whenever his words seem to especially fail him and get stuck in his throat. you don't even really remember moving around, or even him pulling you in any way, you just know you somehow end up laying next to him with your head on his chest.

-whenever the memories do seem to click into place, it's hard. you have a lot of choice words for them yourself, months of being left alone without a word bubbling up with a vengeance, they listen to them. while some mags (such as yourself) do have the ability to speak, the san and dei don't think they've ever heard one with that much emotion in their voice. they've especially never seen a mag just break down like you do, they're both tensing up a little from their far away spot when hank's walking closer to you. instead of you lashing out or swiping at him though, you just sit there while he wraps his arms around you (as best as he can at least, it's a little difficult but he's able to get them around your neck and reach his other hand behind you well enough). you're eventually doing the same to him, though it's more so just your hands resting on their back.

-it takes a good while for proper trust to be rebuilt along with an honest, proper explanation from hank that only you're privy to. eventually though, there's enough trust that you're able to hang around him again without narrowly avoiding an argument or anything. they don't like being super affectionate or 'vulnerable' in front of the other two, so most times they prefer being in your or their room. also they're still touchy lmao, doesn't help that you're mag sized now and so they just want to hold you . its hard to explain, he's never been super affected by others heights and even when he is it's usually a negative thing for him but . for some reason . he just likes being shorter / smaller than you lol ,,,,,,,, hope you like holding them a lot bc that's what you're gonna be doing

-holy shit these are long so . i think .i am going to stop here.

[altruistic-meme]

AFTG fic recs

Hi all! I just wanted to share some of my all-time favorite fanfics for aftg, for no real reason other than I want more people to read them and send their love to the authors :) 

Under a readmore because it got. A little long. But please enjoy!

WIPs

Dangerous Habits by LovelyLittleGrim ( @lovelylittlegrim )

Andrew has run into problems while on undercover jobs before. None of those problems were anything like the troublesome runaway that is one Nathaniel Wesninski

Aka: the fic where Andrew is undercover as a hitman for hire and Neil is the guy who hires him. Things get complicated from there.

Undercover Andrew? BAMF Neil? Hitman AU?? Absolutely. I’m in love. The story is just *chef kisses*

Chapters: 8/9

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, past rape/non-con, Drake Spear (who is his own warning), Butcher Neil, 

--

Negotiations by elesary ( @elesary )

This is what Andrew Minyard knows: his brother is dead, killed by a petty Raven prince who has never learned to keep his hands off of Andrew's things. His brother's daughters are his responsibility, a job that is made infinitely harder when their shitty grandparents want custody. Nathaniel Wesninski is a liar, but he might be the only way to avenge Aaron and protect his nieces. All Andrew has to do is watch Nathaniels - Neil's- back as he carves out his own life and identity from everyone who thinks they own him.

Andrew has always been good at upholding his end of the bargain, has he finally found someone willing to uphold theirs?

This fic has got me fucked up, honestly. I’m emotional over it. It’s fantastic.

Chapters: 11/?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, attempted sexual assault, Butcher Neil,

--

the upper hand by plantelty ( @plantelty  )

Shortly after losing his mother, Neil arrives in the small town of Palmetto, South Carolina, alone in the world and with an impossible plan to carry through.

At the age of eighteen, Andrew ends up helping a boy stage his own death.

-

Just two fucked up boys learning to trust each other during the course of a summer, but also: multiple references to songs, twinyard angst (Nicky tries his best), The Plotting of Neil Josten's Gruesome Demise, and shit hitting the fan in a variety of ugly ways!

The cliffhanger has got me on the edge of my seat, but it is 100% worth the read and the wait for the last chapter!! 

Chapters: 10/11

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Canon typical violence, 

--

The Butcher’s House by Fire_Bear ( @fire-bear )

Andrew thought something was odd with the house the Foxes had to move into after their Athletes' House had been burnt down. He just wasn't prepared for what was actually wrong with it.

For this was a house full of monsters.

Ghost story! Ghost story! Ghost story! I literally think about this fic every other day, it’s fantastic. 

Chapters: 6/?

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: character death (major or minor is unclear), injuries, 

--

Promise of an Unbroken Boy by elesary ( @elesary​ )

Neil is caught by the police with Mary's burning body and is sent to juvie in Oakland where he is assigned to share a cell with one Andrew Doe, who promises him Exy, if only Neil will tell him all of his secrets. With no access to tinted contacts and hair dye, he agrees, it's only a matter of time until he's killed after all. What does he have to lose?

But Andrew's found someone who knows what a promise means, and he'll be damned if he lets that go without a fight.

Ngl this is definitely in my very top favorites -- I LOVE the idea of Neil and Andrew meeting pre-series, and this fic just BLEW my expectations for that plotline out of the waters

Chapters: 14/?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Underage, attempted rape/non-con, canon-typical violence, 

~~~~~~~~~

Complete

The Nameless Monster by kanekicure ( @kanekicure )

Nathaniel Wesninski wants nothing more than to see his father dead and buried. But when his father promises him the title of The Butcher, Nathaniel quickly realizes that his destiny of following in his father's footsteps is closer than ever before.

So of course, when he gets forced to go undercover for the Baltimore police, he starts seeing what living could truly be.

-

Andrew Minyard is a newly recruited police officer for the worst precinct in Baltimore, who is dedicated on hunting down the notorious Butcher and his unnamed underling. But when Neil Josten is thrown into his midst as his civilian consultant; he starts to realize some things don't quite appear as they seem.

I love the story telling -- the secret identities, the plotting, everything.

Chapters: 14/14

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Butcher Neil, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced slef-harm (I believe there is a scene that is somewhat detailed on this subject), some characters also get drugged at one point, 

-- 

that’s just something people say by nanatsuyu ( @theoctopusnods )

Neil makes the mistake of stealing the wrong car. Andrew makes the mistake of offering a ride to a liar. They both make the mistake of turning the whole affair into a road trip ‘home.’

Gonna be honest; the summary does not give a big idea as to what is in store and i am SO GLAD I gave this one a try so i’m telling you that you will be too

Chapters: 24/24

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, panic attacks (somewhat grahic descriptions of)

--

The Story After You by kanekicure ( @kanekicure )

Andrew Minyard does not understand how Riko Moriyama landed Neil Wesninski.

How the snot-nosed, small dick, rich brat, second son of the Moriyama family who also just so happened to own the largest EXY gear and merchandiser company in the world “RAVEN” - had landed smart mouthed, quick witted, stupidly blue eyed Wesninski, was beyond him. Well, unless Wesninski was a gold digger, but Andrew doubted it.

-

Or; how Andrew Minyard says he doesn't get into messy situations, until he meets Neil and suddenly he is in the most messiest possible situation ever imagined in his life - oh and also, he might be becoming a homewrecker.

Ok I am behind bc I haven’t read the final chapter of this but!! I love the story, it’s very emotional and moving, and I love the characterization in it.

Chapters: 10/10

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Abusive Riko/Neil, abusive relationship, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/reference child abuse, implied/referenced self-harm, graphic depictions of violence, some descriptions of injuries/scarring, 

-- 

This Complicated Life by 5a5b5p5 ( @andrewsbutterflyknife )

“This is exactly why I don’t want you and Andrew to meet,” Aaron says grumpily. “You two would get along far too well.”

Neil grins. “I just like pissing you off,” he says, “It’s not my fault your brother does such a good job at it.”

—

Neil doesn’t expect much from his Sophomore year of college, but when he becomes a waiter at the Palmetto Bistro, his life gets a whole lot more interesting. As it turns out, maintaining friendships new and old as well as navigating an interesting relationship with the head chef of the restaurant—who just so happens to be his best friend’s twin brother—is a lot more complicated than he’d thought it would be.

A much more light-hearted fic than most of the others! Includes a secret relationship, and also chef Andrew >>

Chapters: 10/10

Rating: Mature

Warnings: 

--

When I Fade, Keep Me in Your Memory by demesh 

Neil Josten has a secret: he can flicker out of existence.

He can vanish with the turn of a thought; click his fingers, and suddenly he’s not there anymore. Invisible and untouchable, he becomes a living ghost.

Having promised his mother never to let his ability go, Neil teeters the line between faded and real, a person and an echo. He can’t risk getting hurt.

But then, one day, someone sees him when they shouldn’t be able to.

 A (flower-shop) AU about how a faded and lonely Neil finds it in him to become someone real.

Another fic that I need to catch up on ;; but anyway it’s amazing and I love Neil’s ability in it, it’s so well explained and well-written about

Chapters: 12/12

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, panic attacks

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12 Ways to Woo a Minyard by NikNak22 ( @knickknacksandallthat )

Neil is a math nerd who, by a stroke of dumb luck, falls into a group of friends that are the closest thing to family he’s ever had. So, when he tells them about his new mysterious crush, he shouldn’t be surprised how immediately they come up with a plan to help win them over. One they insist that if Neil follows it, he’ll have them falling for him in no time. But things don’t always go to plan – or do they?

Nicky wants to set him up with someone else. Matt and Jeremy are confused but supportive. Allison and Seth offer lewd suggestions, while Dan does her best to keep everyone in line. Jean and Renee know something, Aaron doesn’t really care, and Kevin just wants Neil to join the lacrosse team.

But one thing’s for certain – whether Neil’s successful or not, everyone’s got money riding on this.

The romance-trope-filled fanfic of my dreams. Sometimes you just need a fic of pure joy -- this is that fic. 

Chapters: 14/14

Rating: Mature

Warnings: 

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finders keepers by moonix ( @annawrites ​ )

Andrew meets Nathaniel through a scavenger hunt app. As their team takes part in a hunt that sends each of them to creepy, abandoned places alone to solve clues and gain points, Andrew and Nathaniel begin a little treasure hunt of their own. The anonymity of getting to know each other in small increments, never meeting face-to-face, allows them a level of intimacy neither are used to. Meanwhile Renee’s friend Neil is acting weird whenever Andrew shows up…

This was one of the first fics I read for aftg!! And BOY what a great start!! All of the little pieces and parts that work together, and just the scavenger hunt itself is fantastic! (I also REALLY wanna know if there is an app like this out there because I would be down to do that)

Chapters: 8/8

Rating: Mature

Warnings: (these all come from the author:) “mentions of historical abuse in a mental asylum, mentions of suicide, mentions of murder and kidnapping, morbid facts, creepy abandoned places including a haunted house at a theme park with disturbing rooms, special appearance of a creepy clown doll, fatphobia and some introspection on body image/complicated relationship with food, mention of self harm scars”

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Scared to Live (But I’m Scared to Die) by Major_816 ( @major816 )

Neil Josten goes to the Nest for Andrew, but he stays for a lot more.

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"I'm sorry Coach," he muttered.

"For what kid?" Wymack shifted. "You've got to give me something to work with here."

Wymack watched the thin traces of sorrow as paper exchanged hands and he was looking down at a contract with the Edgar Allan Raven's.

"I signed them Coach, I'm sorry."

~

The one where Neil doesn't come back from Winter Break.

It is VERY dark, and is one of very few fics that I have actually been almost unable to read one of the scenes, so DEFINITELY pay attention to the warnings -- both these, and the ones provided for each individual chapter. I did go through the fic to collect as many warnings as I could find in the chapter warnings, but be sure to take care of yourself.

Chapters: 36/36

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: rape/non-con elements, implied/referenced rape/non-con, discussions of rape/non-con, canon-typical violence, graphic descritions, physical abuse, panic attacks, descriptions of injuries (often graphic), psychological warfare, dissociating, psychological torture, physical torture, use of knives, alcoholism/alcohol abuse, pain-induced delirium, rape/non-con, emotional self-separation, suicidal ideation/thoughts of suicide, emotional distress (which sums up the whole fic and also me while reading it), handcuffs/chains used as restraints, referenced/implied abuse towards animals, vomitting, begging, excessive use of painkillers, drowning, waterboarding, physical restraint, mutilation of an animal, mild hallucinations, non-con drugging, sleep deprivation, starvation, humiliation, the Butcher, 

Also one of the first fics I read and 100% my absolute favorite fic!!! Which is adfjhsd a little worrying, considering, but it is what it is. Anyway. This fic absolutely wrecked me, and while it is technically complete, there is a sequel in the works! So! But I am so so excited for the sequel, and I am working on rereading this. It’s amazing. 1000/10.