#sometimes you gotta delete everything and start over and never look back except to talk about it in therapy maybe

[neverendingford]

.

[organic-guacamole]

episode 209 spoilers below

I'm so late today but here it is

I love EJ, he's finally learning to be happy. I'm so proud.

Ms Jenn = every boomer during zoom calls, like jeez yes we can hear you stop shouting at me.

LOVE THE SUBTLE JOKE ABOUT QUARANTINE "these dark times" "you mean spring break?"

ah yes, remember when we thought covid was just gonna give us a longer spring break? good times

SEBLOS

damn the passive aggressiveness from Carlos and the absolutely over it tone from seb✋

CASWELL COUSINS!!!!! THEY'RE THE BEST!!!!

we needed more if this kind of goofiness for the first part of season 2 that only such an iconic duo can provide.

old old movies-

is it even that old, or is Nini being a gen alpha rn-

i choose to imagine EJ being scared of the movie and hiding in Ashlyn's shoulder while she keeps a straight face and then EJ pretending to be tough afterwards

aww redlyn are soulmates.... yknow, if gingers had souls

(please ignore me)

y'all saw how EJ's face *lit up* when Gina logged on? how dare you tell me he doesn't like her

ofc she's no damsel in distress, she's Gina porter, she's amazing.

so do we think she'd be the type to just glare at suspicious people? or bark at them

do they not know that Rini broke up? or is Ms Jenn just wanting Nini to suffer through her heartbreak to make her a better actress....

speaking of, why is Nini in the call? she's not in the show anymore. Unless she is, even after the rose and the song got cut, which would be so unfair to all those that auditioned properly before she even came back but whatever, she's the main character I get it 🙄

big red is a hero honestly, Nini better thank him for changing the subject like that

I can't-

i won't work you over the break-

this woman would 100% work her kids 24/7 if it was legal and idk how to feel about it.

YES GINA USE THAT CHARM

QUEEN

FRENCH QUEEN

SHE LEARNT FROM THE BEST (antoine obvi)

smh the airport lady, eavesdropping on Gina's call.

The way she was so happy to answer EJ's call, "eej"

I love them your honour.

EJ WITH PAINTED NAILS YES PLEASE

great now we need to see Gina, Ashlyn and EJ having a complete spa day and EJ getting really into it and Gina and Ashlyn take pictures of him when he's laying down in a robe with a mask and cucumbers on his eyes.

finally we get to see Gina's side of portwell

the way she considered it as flirting, this is the sign she asked for in episode 6 come onnnnn

no is Asher/jack really doing tiktok dances in an airport-

Ricky is me. I am burrito.

oh Lynne, sweetie, I'm sorry but the blonde hair is not it

is that even the same lady or-

THE BEAN

THE CHICAGO BEAN

THE BIG OLD METAL BEAN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CITY 😭

jetlag is my go to excuse for anything... I haven't travelled in 2 years.

"welcome to the Lynne and Mike gossip show. where we talk about our depressed son that we both neglect in certain ways! And now a word from our sponsor, Nord VPN..."

SO MANY CANDLES

WHAT DEMON IS LYNNE TRYING TO SUMMON IN HIS ROOM-

is Nina becoming social media obsessed EJ from season 1? AND SHE LIED ABOUT HAVING SONGS TOO PLEASE WHY ARW THEY RECYCLING THE SAME PLOT-

Gina smiling at the picture of her family on Instagram makes me so happy, idek why.

EJ's nails are so pretty, we needed to see it more (unless he had it on for the rest of the episode and I just.... didn't notice🧍🏽‍♀️)

oh not the tiktok kid✋

yes ma'am end this strange mans whole tiktok career

sir take a hint and leave

GINA NO DONT SAY YOUR LAST NAME HE COULD BE A HUMAN TRAFFICKER

Ricky, walking in style✨

weird kid, ok then Lynne, can't you see he's this close to the edge?

not all your fault baby Ricky, Nini sucks a bit more

RICKY YOU DIDN'T COME DOWN HARD ON THE SONG-

YOU ASKED WHAT IT WAS ABOUT AND SHE SHUT YOU DOWN-

PLEASE DO NOT BLAME YOURSELF

ok but the deleting comment thing was very bad

still don't know if I like Jack honestly

hmmm so Nini's calling herself Nini instead of Nina in her little egg seat, while trying to write a song without inspiration.... Nini, honey, Ricky was your muse, he inspired you to write all those songs, even if it wasn't good for the relationship.

that doesn't mean you gotta get back with him, or that you can't write a song that not about him butttt it'll take some time

the rainbow sticker in her box and her rainbow shirt-

anyways wbk she's not totally straight

Jack are you a criminal?

quick, Gina, check his ankle for a tracker

THE YES AND PRACTICE STRIKES AGAIN

the way Gina wasn't into it in episode 6 but she's used the technique twice now

stole her grandma's Pomeranian-

Jack where the hell did you pull that out from-

the fake crying killed me, that looks like so much fun though

anyone wanna raid a first class lounge with me?

wait so is jack not gonna go in with her?

wouldn't he go in too? help look for the credit card? SO CONFUSED

the first class lounge guy was so into the drama though, watch his face when they start arguing 😭

sorry to break this to you Kourtney, but you haven't even blocked the second act yet soooo...

take that as you will

I love how all of them are totally dissing the dance off

that's the most realistic part of this show tbh

shouldn't Nini have asked how she knew....since the start? why is the fact that her best friend has knowledge of a North high secret now dawning on her...

Howie is sweet honestly, at least he's trying to help. but I stand with Kourtney, don't take him back just because he sang an amazing song, and is giving you a heads up on what's gonna happen...

KOURTNEY IS ME TRYING TO LEAVE AN ONLINE CLASS

I hate school

ooo Nini's writing a song about bad internet connection 🤩🤩🤩

I never lie, except when I do-

son that is the creepiest thing you could say to a stranger that you've been "helping"

2 truths and a lie👀

he's an Ariana fan 100%

called it.

OLDER BROTHER-

WHAT-

free spirit? damn so brother porter was in that horse movie

so has she been kissed or not?????????

I feel like she's moved more than 15 times though so possibly

but then if she's moved so much, and before east high she never opened up to anyone, she's never been kissed then?? damn

same though Gina so let's be besties please

heartbreak president is a great song title idea, give Nini a call rn

but wait

is the no strings attached feeling thing about her telling Ricky she liked him? she thought she was moving away so she thought it'd be no strings attached???

guys I think I figured it out insert the "I've connected two dots" meme

THE DUKE SWEATSHIRT

IS THAT YOUR BOYFRIEND'S

OMG I LOVE I LOVE

NOT THAT I KNOW OF???

ma'am did you just kill me

yes you did

Lynne and Ricky have such a weird relationship

YES IT DID SUCK

TODD SUCKS

LYNNE SUCKS

yeah I get that you wanted Ricky to like Todd BUT THAT WASN'T THE TIME

right so we already know that Ricky was so desperate to keep Nini cuz he didn't want to be like his parents, and now Lynne's talking about this-

Richard needs a long hug

yes Lynne, it is your fault. thank you for finally admitting it.

YES DYE YOUR HAIR

BLOND HIGHLIGHTS RICKY WILL RISE AGAIN

"sometimes the best, last thing you can do for someone you love, is let them go."

gotta admit I teared up at that point

not me thinking big red was calling ms Jenn cupcake for a hot second-

Carlos please omg, you're at the "beach" and they're leaving for the pool?

also, why not just do the call from the hotel room please omg

"don't ask me"

"Carlos"

OMG WHAT HAPPENED

big red wants the tea

O M G

SEB IS JEALOUS

JEALOUS SEBBY IS MY FAVOURITE THING IDC

I'm surprised ms Jenn knew how to give Nini permission to screenshare tbh

So lily's been stalking the East high kids and spending time editing this video while she's supposedly in an immersion trip.... right

EJ and Ashlyn's picture is so chaotic, what even is happening there

"slacking off" bestie its spring break, obviously they're confident enough that they'll get it done in time so why not focus on your own musical.

jealous seb = sassy seb

please what if those guys Carlos is posing with are his cousins or something and that's why he's so confused about Seb

6 YEAR OLD EJ I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM

Nini saying she's obsessed with her ex, that's not weird at all 👍

I can just tell Matt had a blast harassing Julia with those puppets.

Jack please dont be like that, "yet"

chances are you'll never see eachother again 🥰

(honestly sometimes I really miss those friends I made on trips and stuff when we'd spend the day or week together, only to never see them again....those were the good days though)

Ashlyn and Nini should write more songs..... something better than this one at least

Nini: "im good"

cue the Tia Mowry (please I can't spell) crying gif

oh I forgot Ricky was in the show for a hot second

1. where did Gina get to film this without people being around

2. did she just... randomly change her clothes???

ok but the transition between Carlos and EJ

*chefs kiss*

now everyone shut up, EJ's singing

oh i think I'm pregnant

HIS MUSCLES

YES KOURTNEY

I love how big red and Kourtney went from being "the best friends™" to the couple in season 1, to kinda close themselves and having their own plots

sebby makes me so happy

props to biggies editing skills honestly

PORTWELL BEING SIDE TO SIDE I CANT

AND SEBLOS OMG

big red lives for the drama

"wow" so true Ricky

no he is not cute, stop it

"holding" ok that's kinda cute

yeah EJ's a lucky guy😌

jokes aside, it's not that hard to exchange numbers-

keep in touch if you want

ok I really like Jack now

if he comes back in season 3, maybe have him be LGBTQ+ ?

like the only out characters they have rn are Seb and Carlos and they're like the sterotypes, yk?

I'd love to see jack kinda break the mold

Ricky's breaking my heart

that song just hurts

the only thing

now I don't hate Lynne????????

HOW DARE THEY WRITE IN A PROPER REDEMPTION ARC FOR HER

UGH IM SUPPOSED TO HATE HER FOREVER

I mean I don't live her now but she's good

but honestly

"mom can I show you something"

IT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL

THE PICTURE AND EVERYTHING OMG

I'm sobbing please help

Gina saying she's just waiting for the right guy and then EJ coming to the airport to pick her up late at night without her asking, offering to bring her back in the morning so she won't have to Uber, bringing her a granola bar (WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT SHE FORGOT TO PACK) and without expecting anything in return???

ms ma'am you've got a keeper right there

her smile at the end was so heartwarming I really can't.

this episode was great.

it felt really short but I liked it, great character development for Ricky, Lynne and Gina.

Cant wait for next episode to see more of EJ being the ideal boyfriend /hj

[camistired]

stranger

scenario: trying to show Bucky that your there for him during tfatws, but he keeps ignoring you

a/n: i started writing this yesterday after watching the first episode of tfatws. if people like this, i might make this a whole ff following the show, so let me know if you like this. also please ignore any mistakes or if it’s wordy, i haven’t written anything in months. i am open to criticism!

edit: i didn’t realize i didn’t name until i was trying to add it to my masterlist, so please ignore the half-assed name, please and thankyou

reader has been left gender-neutral and has no specific race written

spoiler warning

It had been a few months since everyone started reappearing, yourself included. The last thing you remembered was waiting out the fight with Thanos with Shuri, and you remembered feeling lighter then usual and you watched as your friend turned to dust before your very eyes. However what felt like the same breathe, you watched as her being was rebuilt by the same dust the took her away.

It had been a lot to process, to know that you and others close to you had basically died, and came back to the same exact fight happening. It was worse to come back to know that one of your dearest friends was dead and she couldn’t be brought back like the lot of you. It sucked standing in-between Bucky and Sam at Tony’s funeral.

You had missed five years of life, and for what? For some giant purple pyscho titan to stop over population and then become a space rancher? In your eyes, it was complete and utter bullshit. But you can’t change the past.

With Steve’s retirement, Bucky’s pardon, and Sam still kicking ass and saving people as The Falcon, you felt lost. Everyone else has scattered around to handle everything by themselves. But you thrived off of others, that’s just how you worked. So, sitting lonely in your single bedroom Brooklyn apartment, you let out a loud sigh.

You stayed in New York, purely for Bucky’s sake. The man is a hundred and six, and is an ex-assassin, he doesn’t need your help. Especially since you can barely hold a gun without nearly pissing your pants. But you knew the man was basically alone. He spent his past ninety years being in and out of ice fighting, except when he had his moment of peace in Wakanda.

You’ve tried to reach out, called him every now and again, but it was always went to voicemail. You left so many voicemails, your surprised it isn’t full by now. But you’ll keep leaving them, no matter if he actually listens to them or if he just deletes them immediately. You hoped that they gave him some sort of comfort if he did ever listen to them.

You looked at the time, it was a quarter past eleven. You let out another sigh. Something you still haven’t been able to get down was your damn sleep schedule. Sometimes you stayed up until two - three in the morning and sleep into the afternoon, and that was on a good day. You tried to establish a routine, but it just  never worked. If you tried to go to bed earlier, you end up either staring at the ceiling till sunrise or waking up in the middle of the night, for no reason. You didn’t have to use the bathroom, you didn’t have a nightmare, you just woke up, and you couldn’t go back to sleep, no matter what you tried. You’ve expressed this to your brother, you suggests maybe you go see a therapist, maybe do a sleep study, but you just shut the ideas down. That was the last things you wanted to do, was be monitored.

However, you couldn’t do this anymore. You forced yourself out of bed and changed your clothes from your normal sweatpants and baggy t-shirt to leggings and a slightly less baggy shirt. If you couldn’t fall asleep naturally, might as well take a walk around the block and maybe take a melatonin tablet or two, see if that does anything.

Locking your door, you start walking down your hall when you see a man walk away from your neighbor’s, Yori Nakajima’s, door. You’ve known the old man for as long as you lived here. You’ve tried to help him out as much as he will let you, and even though he’ll never admit it, he appreciates the help. He tries to repay in small ways, he even offers you to join him and a younger friend of his for sushi down at Izzy, but you always turn him down. You helped to help, not get anything in return.

You walked up to Yori’s door but he closed it before you could reach his door. You sighed and instead decided to talk to the man walking away.

“Excuse me!” You called out, walking towards him. He seemed to tense up and walked a little faster but you touch his arm before he could go much farther.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, I just have a few question...”

He cursed under his breathe but he didn’t move. That’s when you noticed the way he held himself. His body language very much showed he was uncomfortable, and whether he was doing on purpose or subconsciously, he was leaning away from where your hand met his arm.

You moved your hand back down to your side but you walked in front of him and you froze when you saw his face.

“Bucky?!”

He seemed to shy into himself more when you recognized who he was, making you instantly felt bad. However, examining him he looked different. His hair was a big one, ever since you first met Bucky,  his hair was shoulder length. But he looked a lot cleaner with shorter hair, his loose curls a lot more prominent now. However, that  seemed to showcase the most change. It felt as if he went backwards more than anything.

His jacket, the gloves, the brooding energy radiating off of him. He felt like the man you met back when the whole “Civil War” mess was happening.

He softly addressed you, but he still never looked at you directly. It was concerning especially since you considered you two close. But maybe it was because you two haven’t talked properly? Maybe because he’s been ignoring your calls? Whatever the reason, you didn’t care. It made you feel better he was out talking to people, no matter that it was your older neighbor, he was interacting with people. It made you wonder if he had talk to Sam, but you doubted it.

“Long time no see, stranger. Glad to see your still alive.”

He looked at you with a blank expression, and you recognized that looked. He was looking for a tell, if you were angry at him or not. In all honesty, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry like he excepted you to be. You’re glad he was doing something, he didn’t have to be okay fully, just as long as he was going out.

“I’m not angry, Bucky.” You said flatly, as his eyes met yours. You could tell that he relaxed, physically. “I mean, concerned, sure. Scared you had locked yourself in your apartment, definitely. But not mad. Just... wished you would have called. Sent a text to let me know you were okay... Anything, really.”

He sighs, “I know... I should have done something- said something. I just have a lot going on.”

“Everyone does. Half of the population got turned into dust, we’ve lost a lot of friends. It’s just... we’ve gotta stay together, you know? We can’t rely on Steve anymore... And the more we’re by ourselves, the more we’re just creating terrible coping mechanisms, ya know?”

He seems to be taking in your words and you just smile at him softly. “Just think about it, okay?”

You begin walking down the hall before you turn towards him again, “Oi! And Barnes?”

He looks up at you, “Yeah?”

“If I don’t hear from you soon, just know I will hunt you down and beat your ass! No more of this distancing, stranger shit. I know how to find you now. And you know where I live!”

You smirk as you turn around to finally go on that walk, but little did you know that Bucky had a little smirk of his own as he took in your words.

“No more distancing, no more acting like a stranger... I have to start nurturing my friendships...”

[phantom-curve]

Mads I have to be annoying and send you another one of those prompts 😂 Platonic Alex & Reggie with "liberosis - the desire to care less about things"!

this was not the first prompt you sent in, but I had way too much fun exploring this dynamic and I couldn't resist doing this one before the others! set in the gimme a chance AU, please enjoy this deleted scene that takes place after chapter 4 ft. Alex and Reggie being completely Over It™️

liberosis - the desire to care less about things (Rated T+ for language and some slightly suggestive wording about Luke and Julie's relationship)

“Okay so like, we’re in agreement that this is just a weird thing we’re not gonna talk about, right?”

It was late. Alex had stumbled home from work completely drained and exhausted around 10 pm and Reggie had apparently been waiting up to have this conversation, work clothes still on, fingers restless as they twisted together in front of his body where he sat propped up against the couch, TV turned low and forgotten behind him. For a second, Alex wasn’t exactly sure what Reggie was talking about. And then he remembered it was Sunday. Which meant yesterday had been Saturday. And all of the stupid Luke drama he had been trying to ignore came flooding back.

“No, we’re not gonna talk about it,” Alex said firmly, meeting Reggie’s concerned gaze with a look that he hoped translated into I will literally talk about anything else but this right now. “Total radio silence as far as I’m concerned.”

“Cool, okay. Glad we’re on the same page.”

Reggie’s head dipped and bobbed as he nodded his agreement. Alex let out a sigh of relief as he hunched over to slip his work shoes off and stack them on the rack by the front door. Then, the air seemed to grow thick with some sort of unspoken tension. Alex felt it press against him like an old, uncomfortable sweater, itchy and oppressive against his chest. When he straightened once more, Reggie was waiting to meet his gaze head on. Clearly, they were gonna talk about it.

“I’m not alone in thinking it’s like...kinda weird, right?”

Alex sighed, the action bone deep and heavy in a way that only Luke’s shenanigans could make him feel. Reggie wasn’t wrong. It was kinda weird that Luke had been hiding this whole Julie thing from them. It was kinda weird that Luke had managed to pull it off at all, actually. The boy was not known for his subtlety. He had very clearly struck out with Julie the first time around, and yet somehow, he had managed to draw her back in. Alex could tell by the way Luke had stuttered and stammered over the whole thing the night before that he had been trying to keep it lowkey. As if that boy even knew the meaning of the word. Case in point: he hadn’t been able to play it cool for 5 seconds once she had started ignoring him.

“Yeah, Reg, it’s definitely kinda weird.”

“Oh, good, I’m really glad I’m not the only one who feels that way about it. Ya know, when I first figured it out, I was like, ‘okay maybe it’s just a one-time thing.’ But it’s not a one-time thing. Definitely not. And I just like...don’t understand why he isn’t talking about it? Why is he trying to pretend its no big deal? It’s obviously a big deal.”

Alex desperately wished he could go back in time and take Willie up on his offer to spend the night tonight if only to be able to avoid this uncomfortable word vomit that Reggie didn’t seem capable of stopping. If there was ever a can of worms that didn’t need to be opened, it was this one, focused on Luke’s love life and his interactions with Julie, and what all of that meant in the grand scheme of things. Alex did not have the time or patience to truly get into this right now, he really didn’t. Except Reggie was looking at him so expectantly, as if Alex would reach into his fanny pack and pull out a booklet of answers, and so he also couldn’t just leave the poor guy to obsess alone.

“Okay, so we’re gonna do this, yeah? We’re gonna talk about it? Lemme...lemme just like get some sweats on and make some dinner, okay?”

Reggie let out a deep breath that Alex hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever you need, Lex.”

Alex didn’t dawdle. This was not a conversation that was going to go away or be dismissed. Reggie needed to talk it out, and honestly, now that he thought about it, Alex kind of did, too. And not to someone like Willie who would grin and say, “can’t stop true love hot dog, gotta let them ride that wave and figure out if they’re gonna sink or swim on their own” and act all blasé about it. He needed to talk about it with someone like Reggie who, just like Alex, was in the unique position of being friends with Flynn and Carrie (which meant knowing just enough about Julie to have an idea of exactly why she would be so appealing to Luke) as well as being one of Luke’s brothers (which meant knowing him better than he knew himself sometimes). Together, they might be able to figure out if the two would be like oil and water or more like fire and gasoline. Reggie was the only person who could have that kind of discussion with him, so yeah, they were doing this.

Alex made quick work of cleaning off in the shower and switching his work clothes for sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. Reggie was still waiting on the couch, staring at the tv but not actually watching whatever was playing out on the 32-inch screen. He had managed to change out of his clothes and into some Star Wars themed pajamas though. Alex skirted around the couch edge so he could press a quick, reassuring hand against Reggie’s scalp as he made his way into the kitchen. Reggie’s eyes moved away from the screen to track his movements. Alex might be the one with anxiety, but Reggie needed more reassurance when it came to things that might end with his family falling apart in one way or another. Alex wasn’t about to let him get so worked up that he convinced himself this would be catalyst that ruined everything.

“Honestly, Reg, what are we even supposed to do here? You know he’s gonna keep seeing her no matter what we say.”

Alex tried to open the conversation gently, eyes fixed on his bowl as it revolved in circles inside the microwave. Reggie didn’t answer at first, not until the beep of Alex’s food being finished rang out in the small apartment. When he did speak, he sounded partly apologetic and partly resigned.

“I don’t know. I know I probably should have said something after last week but...he just seemed so happy. I didn’t wanna mess it up for him. But last night was weird and it didn’t feel good. I’m worried Luke’s on a one-way path to destruction and I don’t know if it’s gonna be because of Julie or because of Flynn.”

Alex tried not to let his face fall into his freshly warmed bowl of pasta as he pulled it from the microwave. He really, really did not want to think about the ways that Flynn would rip Luke to shreds when she found out what had been going on behind her back. He had learned two things about the pint-sized firecracker in the year or so that he had known her: don’t mess with Carrie and don’t mess with Julie. Luke had already kinda fucked up on one of those counts. He wasn’t super thrilled thinking about what her reaction might be when she discovered he had been messing around with the second one, and in a much bigger way, too. He turned to face Reggie, forced himself to soften his own anxiety when he caught sight of the nerves etched out in harsh lines across the bassist’s forehead. Deep breath in, deep breath out just like his therapist had taught him.

“Flynn is gonna react however she’s gonna react. We can’t control that. She’s gonna have Julie’s back no matter what so all we can do is watch out for Luke.”

Reggie was nodding along in agreement, features smoothing out now that there was something of a plan for him to follow. Alex swung himself onto a barstool, bowl in front of him as his mind turned over and over all the millions of ways this thing between Julie and Luke could go south. Reggie moved off of the couch, hesitating for just a moment before he walked over to lean against the island in the kitchen where Alex was doing his best not to spiral.

“I think he likes her. Like...like likes her.”

Reggie’s voice was quiet, like he was sharing some secret he had been sworn to silence over. Alex turned to look at him again, not entirely sure he wanted to believe it.

“Dude, we’re not in middle school. You hook up with people all the time and it never means more than a night of shared passion. Luke can do the same thing.”

The look Reggie leveled his way was nothing short of disbelieving, eyebrows raised so high they had practically disappeared into his hairline. Alex kinda had to hand it to him there. He didn’t really believe Luke actually could pull off a casual relationship, especially not with a girl like Julie who probably set every single one of his musical nerve endings on high alert. Reggie and Luke weren’t the same in that manner. Reggie wanted to give love and receive it in turn without any reservations or worries about the intent behind it. Just two people meeting in a mutually beneficial exchange and then moving on with their lives to find that again with someone else. Luke’s love was deliberate, a commitment. There was no way whatever he was doing was casual.

“Okay, okay. Put the eyebrows away already.”

Reggie’s face relaxed into something less concerned and more exhausted. Alex felt that all the way to the depths of his soul. Generally speaking, Luke was pretty exhausting. And he was even more exhausting when he wasn’t taking care of himself in order to take care of someone else, in this case: Julie. Alex scooped up his bowl of pasta and tucked an arm around Reggie’s shoulders, guiding both of them to the couch. The tv was still playing something Alex couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to, but the low hum of voices in the background made the apartment feel a little less cold and quiet. Alex shoveled a bite of pasta into his mouth, chewing slowly and deliberately before he turned to face Reggie once more.

“Look, we don’t actually have any control over any of this shit. We know how Luke is, and we kinda know what’s up with Julie, but we can’t stop them from interacting or scare them off from each other. As much as it sucks, I think we gotta just ride this one out. And if Luke gets hurt, we’ll be here to patch him up and love him through it.”

Alex blinked in surprise, not actually sure those words had just come out of his mouth. By the way Reggie was studying him, he wasn’t sure the other boy could believe it either. Then, Reggie’s lips curved into a knowing smirk.

“Willie’s been rubbing off on you. All that therapy and go with the flow shit. You’re like a whole new drummer boy.”

Alex guffawed and reached over to shove Reggie playfully, being sure to keep his now empty bowl clear of the scuffle. Reggie ducked around his outstretched arm, sneaking under to poke at Alex’s side in a way that had him twisting and nearly falling off the couch.

“Jeez, Uncle, Uncle! Fuckin hell, man, no need to go straight for the tickle spots.”

Reggie huffed out a laugh, collapsing back into the couch next to Alex. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the only sound the canned laughter and predictable lines of the tv show.

“Hey, Lex?”

Alex hummed and rolled his head to meet Reggie’s eyes.

“Do you ever wish you just like...didn’t care so much about everything?”

Alex’s laugh echoed above the sound of the tv. He leaned into Reggie’s side, letting the familiar comfort wash over him.

“All the time, Reg. Literally, all the fucking time.”

[eberles]

i hate u, i love u

Rafe Cameron

(gif by @toesure :)

Request: A Rafe fic based on the song “I hate u, I love you” by gnash (ft Olivia O’Brien) PLEASE MAJOR RAFE VIBES 🥺💖 @fav-imagines

A/N: I wanted to cry writing this lol idk why but it hit me right in the feels!! it’s kind of all over the place, if anyone is confused by, don’t worry bc i am too!!!! lol anyways enjoy!! (this is probably the first thing ive ever written that goes with rafe’s character) bold = lyrics, italics = flashbacks

Warnings: angst, mentions of drugs, cheating, lying, toxic relationship, swearing

feelin used, but im still missin you and i cant see the end of it just wanna feel your kiss against my lips and now all this time is passing by, but i still cant seem to tell you why it hurts me every time i see you, realize how much i need you

I’ve spent months sitting in my room staring at the ceiling, and at the walls. I did a full Bella Swan from New Moon and let 3 months go by without being present for any of them. I didn’t care honestly...Even after spending all that time alone, i’m not still not healed from the heartache that was caused by him. I still miss him, his scent, his kisses, his clothes, everything. Rafe.

I went out once and he was the last person I wanted or planned to see, but of course, he was the only person I actually saw. Sure, there were other people around, but none of them mattered. Everyone else felt greyed out except for him. He was the only light I could see in those short moments. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, my breath hitched in my throat and it felt like there was no air left to breathe.

After months it still hurts to see him again. It hurts because I realized I still need him even after everything. I hate him. So why do I love him? The feeling of him being the only one I want, the one nobody could ever replace...it’s overwhelming and I can’t seem to shake it. But me? He replaced. It looked like it was easy from my point of view. He needed her, wanted her, and i’m not her.

i miss you when i can’t sleep or right after coffee or right when i can’t eat, i miss you in my front seat, still got sand in my sweaters from nights we don’t remember. do you miss me like i miss you? fucked around and got attached to you.

My head was consumed on thoughts of you. It was constant. Like the leaky faucet in the bathroom or the loose floorboard. Always running, always broken. I miss you. Maybe you’ll come around, but for now...I wish you were here instead. When it’s late and I can’t sleep, I think about you. When it’s early and I can’t eat, I think about you.

“Where are we going?” you giggled excitedly, grabbing my hand from across the console in my truck.

“Shh, I told you it’s a surprise baby, we’re almost there anyways.” I laughed at her giggling like a kid, she had so much excitement in her eyes. She was always ready for anything, even if it was 2 in the morning and I love that about her. I love everything about her.

“Ugh fine!” she groaned dramatically and rolled her eyes in a full circle looking up at the ceiling. “Why are we at the beach?” you didn’t even give me enough time to answer before jumping out of the truck and running towards the sand laughing the entire way to the water. Once I caught up with you, I grabbed your hands and pulled you close into my chest, kissing your forehead. When we broke apart I laid down a few blankets on the sand, noticing you were cold, I also gave you my sweater.

We stared at the stars and talked about anything and everything for hours. It felt magical. We stayed until the sun came up, watching the sunset before driving back to my house for some much needed rest.

Walking over to my closet, curious to know if that same sweater ended up back in my closet after that night. I reached in, digging around not finding anything and decided to look in my dresser instead. Of course, it was folded neatly in the drawer you used to call yours. Grabbing and shaking it out I noticed the light pieces of sand that fell from it. I brought it in to my nose wondering if it still smelt like your perfume. It did. I’m always tired lately, but never of you. Do you miss me too?

if i pulled a you on you, you wouldn’t like that shit, i put this reel out, but you wouldn’t bite that shit. i type a text then i never mind that shit, i got these feelings, but you never mind that shit. you’re still in love with me but your friends don’t know.

To Y/N: i wanna talk, i think...maybe i miss y-

*delete*

To Rafe: I miss you so much, it hurt someti-

*delete*

“Y/N...what’s going on? You’re off in never never land! Do you still miss him?” Kiara asked, gently shaking my knee to gain my attention back to the group. I looked at her and around at the rest of the pogues and put a smile on my face, shaking my head.

“Of course not, it’s been months! I’m so over him, guys. Besides even if I did, it wouldn’t matter.” I tried so hard to sound confident. I hope they bought it. Of fucking course, I miss Rafe. I’m still in love with him for gods sake. I hate that I want him.

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Sure, i’ve moved on, but I think about y/n, just about everyday. I guess for me, moving on is finding someone new, but not actually wanting anyone new. I just couldn’t bare to be alone anymore with my thoughts. I deserve better than that, personally.

“Anyways Topper, if y/n wanted me still, she would say so right?” I looked at Topper, silently hoping he would lie to me, just tell me what I want to hear, man. “If I were her, I would’ve never let me go. She’s missing out.”

“Hell yea, dude! That’s the right attitude.” Topper said, jumping up to high five me. Of course, that was the statement he was on board with. I hate that I want you.

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I haven’t been to a party in months, Kiara and Sarah thought that this would be the most fitting post-break up activity for me. Maybe meet a new guy or something. I tuned out when they were telling me about it and just agreed. What I neglected to listen to, was that it was a kook party. So now, i’m at a party alone, since my friends ditched me to dance with each other. And on top of that, I watch him watch her, like she’s the only girl he’s ever seen.

It took less than an hour of being at this party for us to end up in a room alone together.

“You don’t care! You never did!” Rafe shouted, running his hands through his hair, clearly exasperated with this conversation. I don’t even know how it started. One minute I was watching him with another girl, and the next he was hauling me off, away from everyone.

“You don’t give a damn about me, Rafe! How is it you never notice that you’re slowly killing me?” you wanted to yell back at him, to scream at him for putting you through this again, but you couldn’t. He didn’t say anything in return so you continued, “I hate you, and I hate that I love you, Rafe.” I’ve tried to move on, but even the simple thought of dating anyone but him, makes me physically ill. Why does it have to be like this?

“I don’t mean no harm, I just miss you on my arm, babe. Do you ever wonder what we could’ve been y/n?” He’s taunting me by asking dumb questions, as if I wanted this to happen, as if i’m the cause of all of this. Rafe’s the one that was closed off, not me. Of course, he switches the stories and i’m sure everyone at this damn party thinks I left him heart broken.

“You have a girlfriend, why are you even asking me that?” I was starting to get angry, I felt like he was toying with me.

He’s laughing. Of fucking course, he’s laughing at me. This is all one big fucking joke to him. “Lie to me, lie with me, get your fucking fix. Isn’t that what you always told your friends Rafe?” I was furious, how could he act that way after everything? He’s still a child though, that will never change.

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You were right. I did lie to you, multiple times. About where I was, who I was with, what I was doing. I didn’t want you to know I was such a fuck up. You didn’t deserve the pain of finding out I was lying and cheating and drugging. You did anyways though. Now all my drinks and all my feelings are all fucking mixed.

“Rafe! Come dance with me!” I downed the rest of my drink before throwing the glass down and walking away from the new girl I was seeing. I didn’t care anymore.

I don’t want you, Y/N. I shouldn’t fucking miss you. I don’t deserve to! Seeing you again is such bullshit. If you wouldn’t have shown up here, I wouldn’t have said those things to you. Sometimes you gotta burn some bridges, just to create some distance. You didn’t deserve that, I knew it, but at least now you might learn your lesson and stay away. It’s for the best, right?

I hate that I love her, but I can’t put nobody else above her.

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I wasn’t sure if I had the closure I needed, but after that particular conversation with Rafe I felt a little better. I returned to the party with my head held high and danced with my friends. I hoped he was watching me too since i’m not sure what he was trying to do by joking around at my expense. But maybe if he thinks it didn’t bother me he will know how it fucking feels. 

I learned from my dad that it’s good to have feelings when love and trust is gone. I guess this is moving on. I hate you, I love you.

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[cade-flrt]

[🪐] WHEN SHE LOVED ME

─────────────────────

pairing. marcia x cherry

desc. where your soulmate’s name appears on your wrist once they’ve fallen in love with you, which only you and your soulmate can see

type. oneshot, song fic, soulmate au, angst

warnings. mention of death, illness

notes. nothing rlly except i hope y’all enjoy :))) based off the song when she loved me also this is a repost bc i deleted the last one by accident LMFAO

“when somebody loved me,”

whistling a soft tune with her eyes closed, marcia sat leaning against the fence of her front porch steps. she was watching the orange and red colours fall down south as the deep blue started to take over, slowly but surely.

it was a routine, at this point. to watch the sun set and to watch the redhead pass by her house each and every time.

sometimes they shared small glances, sometimes even smiles— but sometimes marcia just admired her, for a few seconds without the girl even noticing.

marcia got lost in thought thinking about her, and as if heaven above was listening to her, she heard the familiar footsteps walking by on the concrete pavement.

she quickly raised herself slightly, peering over the edge to get a peak at the girl as if she was some famous celebrity. marcia let out a small ‘tsk’ at herself, she’ll think your a weirdo. but then, she heard the familiar footsteps walking closer.

“hello!” the redhead stood in front of marcia, raising a small hand to wave. “i’ve noticed you looking at me for these past few months?” it was intended to be a statement, marcia could tell, but it came out more like a question.

“well it takes two to tango,” marcia replied simply which left the girl across from her confused. she crossed her arms and her hip was stuck out slightly.

“meaning?”

“you gotta be lookin’ at me too to see me lookin’ at you.”

she thought about it for a while, then a look of finality coming up on her face. “fair enough.” she said simply, going to sit next to marcia on the porch steps.

she felt her heartbeat quicken as the cotton of her sweater brushed against her shoulder, she was sitting so close.

“i’m sherri, but my friends call me cherry—“ sherri, or shall we say cherry, started introducing herself before marcia interrupted her.

“because of your hair? yeah figured,” she shrugged with a half smile on her face. usually, cherry would be mad at someone for interrupting her but instead this time she just let it go and decided not to mention it.

“yeah... you go to my school to something?” cherry asked, raising a singular eyebrow with pursed lips.

marcia let out a small sigh, “probably. but i could just tell, because your hair’s red, cherry’s are red... y’know... 2 + 2 = 4.” she replied playfully. she did know the cherry girl went to her school, marcia always saw her about.

“yeah i get it, no need to get smart...” cherry trailed off as she realised she didn’t know the brunette’s name. marcia probably would’ve answered quicker if she didn’t catch herself staring in her eyes.

marcia soon realised the situation and snapped back to reality, “marcia, the name’s marcia.”

cherry nodded, then standing up. “well marcia, i’ll best get going. my folks will be worried if i don’t get home soon, i’ll see you around yeah?”

“sure.”

“everything was beautiful,”

it was a few weeks later, marcia and cherry had gotten to talking and they soon became quite close friends. marcia enjoyed having cherry around, she always managed to put a smile on her face.

marcia stood, watering the flowers in her backyard as she was listening to the faded music playing from the record player playing from inside her house. she loved her flowers and other variety of plants, they made her happy every time she saw their beauty.

just like cherry, she thought with a small smile as she continued to pour more water without even thinking about it. she got lost in thought thinking about her new friend.

lord, how she hated that word.

“mar?”

marcia’s head perked up at the sound of the soft voice calling from beside her. “oh— cherry, you’re here.”

“yeah, just in time it seems too.” cherry chuckled a little, taking the green watering can from marcia to stop her from over watering the plants; though it seemed to be a little too late for that.

“you wanna go somewhere?” marcia asked, dusting off her hands on the light yellow skirt she was wearing. it protected her legs from the slight spring breeze.

“nah, let’s just sit here. watch the clouds or something cheesy like that.” cherry flashed her a wide grin, walking over slightly to lay down on the grass as marcia followed.

marcia felt the grass poke at her bare arms and back, inhaling the fresh air. “that one looks like a dinosaur.” she pointed at a cloud in the sky.

“hm, i’m not sure. i think it looks more like a car,” cherry disagreed, her head tilting to the side as her blue-green eyes examined the cotton like clouds above.

“and i think you need glasses if that’s what you see!” marcia exclaimed, sitting up on her elbows raising her eyebrows.

cherry giggled, slapping the other girl’s arm playfully. “art is subjective!” she reasoned in a higher pitched voice than usual.

“this ain’t art, this is just clouds?” marcia said, but it came out more as if it was supposed to be a question. she looked down at the redhead beside her, who was just staring up at the sky.

“well, i don’t know. i think you can find art in anythin’ and everything, beauty in anythin’ and everything. like these clouds; they’re beautiful, art-like— i mean look at that one! it looks like it was shaped perfectly by someone.” cherry explained her point of view which left marcia thinking about it for a while, and she ended up with the conclusion that she agreed.

marcia just then noticed that ever since she met cherry, everything was beautiful to her. or she could find the best parts in everyone and everything, guess that’s just cherry’s effect on people, is what she thought.

“every hour that we spent together,”

cherry sang a small song under her breath as she sat in front/underneath of marcia, who was sitting on her own bed. marcia ran her hand through cherry’s hair, then following it up with a brush. “can i do your hair?”

cherry just hummed as a small confirmation. at this sound, marcia continued and started braiding it into a singular braids. “your hair is so soft,” she commented with a small sigh.

“there’s a reason i take so long in showers.” cherry responded simply with a small shrug as she then stretched over to grab her notebook and started drawing something.

“what you drawin’?”

“just a little something.”

“should i be scared?” marcia asked, half joking half serious with a nervous laugh as she grabbed a band and tied the auburn locks at the end.

“no, don’t worry,” cherry shook her head. “plus if it was something bad, i’d be here to protect you.” she turned around to face the brunette and winked.

“wow, not scared no more!” marcia raised her voice a little and even marcia herself couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

she always felt safe with cherry around, as if nothing could touch her.

only cherry and her against the world.

just her and her best friend.

there was that word again.

friend.

“lives within my heart,”

marcia coughed into the handkerchief that she was holding in her hand. when she moved it away from her mouth, she noticed one thing and one thing only; it was stained with red.

a small gasp left her lips, the sight making her frown. “that can’t be good...”

“what can’t be good?” the same voice she had heard each and every day for the past few months asked.

marcia looked up and quickly crumpled the napkin up and threw it in the trash can, sitting in her room.

she looked down and realised cherry was carrying what looked like a crate filled with a load of varieties of things.

“oh it’s nothing... what’s that for?” marcia pointed to the said crate. she genuinely wanted to know but figured it would also be a good excuse to change the subject.

“oh, i figured we could go to the beach today!” cherry moved on from the past subject, seemingly forgetting it which made tension in marcia lessen.

“sure, sure, i’ll just need to ask my folks—” marcia started but cherry made a ‘mhm’ sound, wagging a finger. cherry placed the crate on the ground, letting her arms rest.

“already asked for you! they said yes, so you don’t really have an option here.” cherry put it simply. she walked over to the bed, dragging marcia along with her as they both fell down onto it. they both sat up straight.

“how funny,” marcia replied nonchalantly but on the inside her heart was beating and her cheeks were visibly heating up.

she never thought anyone would care about her like how cherry cared about her. she never thought anyone would think of her as much as cherry thought of her— or at least, she hoped cherry thought about her as much as she thought about her.

“cherry, you got your soulmate’s name on your wrist yet?” marcia pried, speaking out of nowhere and asking this question out of nowhere.

cherry gulped a little, looking a bit taken aback. she hesitated before answering, “yes..”

marcia’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping as she prodded her on to continue who it was. as cherry didn’t seem to get the memo, she simply grabbed the other girl’s wrist and looked down at the name tattooed in black.

marcia

they both sat there in complete silence for what seemed like centuries. marcia wasn’t quite sure what to feel, and she wasn’t quite sure on what was appropriate to react.

but marcia did know how she herself wanted to react.

marcia pulled cherry into her, connecting their lips almost instantly which made cherry’s eyes widen for a split second. she then relaxed into the kiss as marcia placed her hands on the side of cherry’s face, cherry placing her arms on marcia’s shoulders.

at first, they both didn’t move and just stayed like this but then they both started kissing each other back. their lips fit perfectly together as if they were building pieces that were made for each other, maybe they were. the universe works in funny ways, sometimes.

they both kept kissing each other in silence for what seemed to be hours, not making any other noises other than the smacking of their lips.

so much for a beach trip huh? marcia thought.

“and when she was sad,”

marcia paced back in forth in her room, she was waiting for cherry to get there and was biting her nails anxiously.

“mar? what’s up?” cherry came from behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. they had made it official only two weeks before, ever since that day marcia kissed her.

“i need to tell you something.”

“cheating on me, already?” cherry joked, but marcia didn’t seem to laugh which made cherry concern. cherry went to sit on the chair that was right next to marcia’s bed. she got more and more anxious the longer marcia put off telling her. “well come on, what is it then?”

marcia quickly but quietly hopped onto her bed, turning to face cherry and shimmied over to the edge of the bed. she held cherry’s hands in hers, almost to comfort her. “i’m sick, sher.”

“oh well that ain’t so bad, why you making such a big fuss over it?” cherry cocked an eyebrow, mistaking the information she just retained as marcia just having the common cold, a fever or worst case scenario; the flu.

“no, no. it ain’t like that,” marcia waved her off, continuing on. “i’m sick, like... badly, gonna be for a long time— hell, maybe even the rest of my life. doc said so, they don’t know what’s wrong with me just yet but they know it ain’t good.”

marcia tried to read the expression on cherry’s face but couldn’t seem to understand. she had no expression, just blankness. it was almost as if she was a blank canvas that was yet to be painted over.

“you gonna die, mar?” cherry finally reacted after the long silence, her voice shaking slightly and she released her hands from marcia’s.

marcia couldn’t tell if she was mad at her, or maybe just shocked. she decided to go with the latter, for her own sanity.

marcia thought about the question long and hard, trying to come up with an exact answer. but even marcia couldn’t answer it, instead she just kept silent.

but silence was a yes to cherry.

suddenly, cherry just stood up and walked out of the room.

“s’ she mad at me?” marcia asked herself in a low whisper. “golly, that’s all i need.”

“i was there to dry her tears,”

marcia had got told by her doctor to refrain from moving about if not necessary and was put on bed rest. she looked different. she was paler, looked almost gray-ish. her nails were brittle, her hair was thinner and there was less of it too.

cherry was there almost every hour of everyday. she made sure of it, and she made sure to look after marcia as best as she could. she would catch marcia up on what was going on at school, since marcia decided to make the decision to drop out.

marcia couldn’t help but feel guilty, as if she was robbing cherry of enjoyment. but cherry swore on the good lord that she didn’t mind, and would rather be there with her girlfriend than out there with randoms.

there’s a word she liked, girlfriend. compared to friend, she liked this word.

but marcia, every time she as much reached out, always noticed something. that her wrist was blank.

whilst cherry’s was stained with (seemingly) black ink that had marcia’s name on it. marcia had nothing on hers, meaning cherry didn’t love her.

“why’s that?” marcia would often find herself wondering.

you’re not good enough.

she likes someone else.

because you can’t do anything but stay in your bed all day.

you’re useless.

all these conclusions often circled around marcia’s mind, but cherry would say that it was a load of garbage and the universe is just playing games.

well that is, if they ever talked about it. they only talked about it once or twice, they didn’t like mentioning it and marcia tried to block it out of her thoughts as well as she could.

“open up!” cherry commanded marcia to do so, which she followed through and opened her mouth slightly. cherry sat beside the bed on the same chair as before, a tray on her lap with a bowl of soup. the spoon filled to the brim with yellow coloured soup found it’s way to marcia’s mouth after some time.

“you know,” marcia started but stopped to finish chewing a piece of chicken, “you don’t gotta feed me, i can do that by myself. i ain’t five.”

cherry just simply rolled her eyes at this statement, “well, yeah. but i like doing it, it makes me happy— don’t you want your girlfriend to be happy?” she gave marcia over exaggerated puppy dog eyes.

“yeah, whatever you want..” marcia gave in, swallowing the piece of chicken. truth is, she had started to lose her sense of taste. as well as her other senses, her sense of hearing was already pretty much gone and don’t even bring up her sense of smell.

god knows what goes next. her sense of touch and sight? well, marcia figured she couldn’t lose her sense of touch just like that but she was rather scared about her sight.

she remembered her doctor saying something about her potentially losing her sight and she felt it coming. her vision was getting worse by the day, becoming more and more blurry.

“you’d still like me if i couldn’t see or anythin’ right?” marcia spoke from out of nowhere, making cherry jump slightly.

cherry looked highly confused and put the bowl of soup and the tray on the ground. she frowned, “yes of course, that won’t change nothing. why?”

“just checkin’.” marcia lied, getting comfortable in her bed. she shifted about slightly, she just couldn’t get comfortable anymore. it was always too warm with the blankets over her, and way too cold without them on her.

her doctor and cherry alike recommended to keep the covers over her, as a lot of the time, marcia couldn’t even tell what her actual body temperature was.

marcia looked over to see cherry painting once more in the small notebook she brought around with her.

marcia was still yet to find out what she was actually painting, but she decided not to bother her.

she quickly found her eyes shutting close almost by herself, a wave of tiredness taking over her mind and body.

but her mind and body suddenly shot awake when she heard quiet sobs coming from beside her. “cherry?”

then, marcia looked up to find cherry sobbing into her hands with the notebook and painting set on the floor. marcia felt very confused on why she was crying. “what’s wrong?”

“it’s just that... you don’t deserve to be locked up here or whatever, it makes me sad y’know..” cherry tried to explain her feelings between sobs, marcia reacted quickly by stretching over to hold cherry in her arms. she hoped she made cherry feel as safe as cherry made her feel.

“it’s alright, don’t worry. it’s not that bad.. anyways, who was i gonna meet out there? the president?” marcia tried to cheer her up with a subtle joke, and it seemed to do the trick. “i got you, and that’s all that matters to me.”

cherry sniffed a few times before nodding, “yeah, i guess you’re right.”

“am never wrong, doll!”

“and when she was happy, so was i,”

“baby, oh baby!” cherry sang along to b-a-b-y by carla thomas, the record that was playing softly in the background. she was dancing about marcia’s room, the doctor had just been, as usual, and just left.

she was trying to cheer up marcia, as she noticed marcia usually felt much more sad when he came around. he wasn’t a bad guy or anything, he just never had any good news for marcia. he had just told them that he and the optician both believe she would be losing her sight much sooner than expected.

“i love to call you baby!” cherry continued to sing. she somehow found a scarf in marcia’s room somewhere and was dancing around with it.

even though marcia felt sad, whenever she saw cherry, she couldn’t help but smile.

it was cheesy, she knows but she doesn’t care.

even though marcia had the gut feeling all the time that cherry truly didn’t love her, she tried to push that deep down into the pits of hell.

“of course she loves me,” marcia mumbled to herself. over the loud music playing, cherry couldn’t hear what she was hearing— and she was far too distracted to notice anyways.

yet, she found herself glancing down at her wrist and winced at the bareness of it. there was still yet no ink to be found, she wondered what she could possibly do.

but then she saw cherry flash that iconic smile, and found herself distracted from all bad thoughts.

“through the summer and the fall,”

“marcia! get up!”

marcia jumped up from the bed at the sound of cherry’s voice shouting through the house. “jesus, cherry. if i wasn’t going to die as it was, i was gonna die of shock.”

“don’t make jokes like that.” cherry stated, in a very serious tone that marcia never heard her use before. she and cherry knew it was true, but they both mutually agreed to not bring it up. marcia was so weak now that she found herself not even being able to get up or get changed on her own, so often it was her mother or cherry helping her.

“i’m driving you!” cherry moved on from the topic quickly, deciding not to talk about it anymore and pretend it never happened.

“to where?”

“does it matter? just around the place. to get fresh air.” cherry answered the question, opening the curtains to get some fresh light in.

“i can get fresh air in here, yknow.” marcia turning to face the window, which cherry was standing right next to as she fixed the curtains.

“a short breeze from the window don’t count,” cherry started looking through her drawers. she pulled out some clothes and threw it towards— or directly at, marcia, (her face to be exact). “get changed.”

“jeez, i’m on it! i’m on it!”

after getting ready, (cherry helping), marcia and cherry were sat in cherry’s car. she was just driving around the place, going through small hills and remote areas. the radio was blasting loudly, and they were quickly driving by the beach.

“we should get a house by the seaside someday, how ‘bout that?” marcia offered, she admired the blues that made up the sea and the tan beiges that made up the sand.

“sure, and if a tsunami come then oh well!” cherry agreed to it, shrugging her shoulders as she tapped the steering wheel along to the beat of the song playing on the radio.

“at least we’ll die in a good house,” marcia shrugged, speaking half seriously and half sarcastically. cherry laughed at her joke, leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“we had each other, that was all,”

marcia held cherry tight in her arms, as cherry was lying on top of her. she rubbed the back of her head softly, cherry singing soft lullabies.

“i ain’t a baby, you don’t gotta sing no lullaby to me,” marcia chuckled, rolling her eyes as she twirled a part of cherry’s hair with her finger.

“well you’re my baby!” cherry declared, giving a small kiss and marcia fake gagged.

“gross, never say that again!”

“oi, i’m trying to be nice here.” cherry faked a pout, leaning her head into marcia’s chest. she just listened to her heartbeat.

“i’d rather you tell me you want me dead than that.” marcia over exaggerated, which made them both laugh at the statement.

“well then, i want you dead!”

“well, your wish already seems to be granted.” marcia tried to joke along with her again, but cherry just stopped. she was no longer laughing.

“what did i tell you about joking about that?” cherry scolded in the same tone as before, marcia gulped fearfully.

“just she and i together,”

at this point, it had been about 2 years since marcia got sick. marcia couldn’t even leave the bed anymore, she was asleep half of the time and when she was awake she could hardly talk.

and one major thing.

there was still no name on her wrist.

not that she could see it anyways, her vision was completely gone. everything was too blurry snd the world around her was just one big blob.

all she could get out of the world anymore was cherry’s sweet voice beside her, talking about whatever was going on in her life.

“cherry?”

“yes?”

“you love me, right?”

“‘course.”

“you on my wrist yet, then?”

cherry stopped talking, and stopped breathing it seemed like at the question. she knew better than to lie to marcia about something like this, but didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“don’t lie to me, now..” marcia said, shaking her head as her hands found their way to the sides of her own head in frustration.

“it’s just... i don’t know what’s going on.. maybe the universe is playin’ tricks or somethin’..” cherry tried to reason with marcia, she truly didn’t know what was going on.

“the universe playing tricks? that’s a joke if i ever heard one,” marcia scoffed, which left cherry rather upset. she had never talked like this before, but she decided not to mention it.

“it’s jus—”

“just what? you don’t love me, that’s what!” marcia raised her voice, which almost left cherry in tears at the sound. “you don’t love me! you obviously wanna be with one of those other girls! you don’t want me! you just pity me! well i don’t want your pity!” she shouted, obviously frustrated as her voice cracked at every word.

suddenly, her eyes shut tightly and that made cherry’s heart drop. “marcia!”

“oh calm it, it’s nothin’.” marcia said, her voice croaky as ever. she rolled onto her side so that her back was facing cherry.

cherry was relieved she didn’t just die on her but was still hurt by her words. she stood up and slipped into the bed, wrapping her arms around marcia’s waist.

marcia let out a sigh, she couldn’t stay mad at her much longer. she knew this, she never could stay mad at cherry. well, she never was mad at her in the first place.

“i’m sorry, sher. just frustrated is all,” marcia grumbled, her voice still sounded semi mad but cherry could tell her apology was sincere.

“don’t worry,” was all cherry said in response, planting a small kiss on marcia’s shoulder.

“i love you.” marcia said, she waited for cherry’s response but to no avail. it broke her heart, but she decided to just sleep it off. she’ll be better after some sleep.

“i love you too,” cherry admitted wholeheartedly. but marcia was already in dreamland by that time, so no one but cherry heard it.

if a tree falls in a forest when no one is around, does it really make a sound?

she was being truthful about it— well, she thought she was. cherry took a peek over marcia’s shoulder, to just see the blank wrist.

then it hit cherry. she was afraid of loving someone, and she afraid they were just going to leave her.

not marcia, though.

marcia would never leave me, is what cherry declared.

cherry woke marcia awake, “psst, marcia,” she whispered and just got a hum in response.

“i’m gonna go, okay? bye!” cherry told her in the same cheerful tone and stars yes to get out of the bed.

“not now... don’t say goodbye yet... maybe tomorrow...” marcia replied simply, grabbing cherry to stop her and dragging her back to her original position.

“alright, i’ll say goodbye tomorrow.” cherry agreed with a small smile, not knowing quite what she meant and she happily went to sleep next to marcia.

“like it was meant to be,”

it was the next day, after last night. and cherry had woke up, went back to her house and already walked back to marcia’s.

she walked up to marcia’s room, going to sit in her usual position in marcia’s room.

the chair next to the bed.

“hey mar, wake up.” she shook marcia awake, and even though it took a few times, she awoke eventually.

“oh hey, cherry,” marcia replied. her voice was even more raspy in the morning and cherry loved it. it was the only reason marcia spoke anymore, as speaking put marcia in even more pain but she never told cherry that.

they both sat there, talking about whatever (cherry done most of the talking). soon enough, cherry had pieces of toast and was feeding them to marcia.

“oh cherry, y’know that painting you started a few years back?” marcia recalled, waving her finger around for emphasis.

“yeah?” cherry said her words with a slight laugh, she found it hard to believe she could remember that but couldn’t even remember what she ate of lunch yesterday.

“what was that of?”

“oh just the clouds, y’know the one that we saw that one day? turns out it does look more like a dinosaur!” cherry exclaimed, clasping her hands together as all the pieces of toast were gone.

“told you i was always right,” marcia gave a small shrug as a playful grin was plastered on her face. “it’s a shame i never got to see it— your painting, i mean. i used to love your paintings, well i still do. i just love everything you do, to be honest. i just love you!”

cherry stayed silent at that, and instead her eyes darted towards marcia’s wrist which was still blank.

“my wrist is still bare, ain’t it?”

“how’d y’know i was looking at it?” cherry’s eyes widened and she sat back a little.

“could just tell,” marcia muttered, “listen, doll. don’t get too... hung up about it... i overreacted last night, it ain’t all that big of a deal.” marcia shifted around in her bed and laid down, as she started to cough, “just know... i... i love you... alright?” she told her in between coughs.

cherry started to panic, but kept it to herself, it wasn’t until marcia stopped responding to the calls of her name did cherry realise. wasn’t until cherry realised marcia was whiter than ever, her breaths stopping and her chest stopped rising did cherry realise.

she died.

marcia died.

marcia, as in cherry’s marcia, died.

she left.

just like the rest.

but no, she didn’t leave. she’s still here, just maybe not physically.

cherry’s chest tightened and her whole body followed, loud sobs was all that came from her as she sobbed over her girlfriend’s dead body.

marcia had died.

and she knew what she meant now by ‘say goodbye tomorrow’, she knew she was going to die.

marcia knew herself she was going to die imminently, but instead of telling anyone or getting help. she decided to spend her last few hours with her, cherry.

cherry didn’t know what to feel, and then it hit her.

marcia died thinking cherry didn’t love her.

thinking no one loved her.

all because of some stupid mark on the wrist.

“it’s stupid! it’s all so stu—” cherry started screaming by now, the tears rushing down her face but then something caught her eye.

cherry

stained right on the love her life’s wrist.

then it all made sense.

the feeling of true love was all too unfamiliar to cherry, and feeling like this when they left you was new to her.

she then realised, because she had been scared to love marcia incase she left her... now that she was gone, she had nothing to lose. she wasn’t scared, she had nothing to be scared of.

“i love you,” cherry confessed. this time, she really did mean it.

but one again, she was too late. no one... no one but herself heard it.

if a tree falls when no one else is around, does it make a sound?

she loved marcia.

but marcia would never know.

and never will know.

all because cherry valance was scared to love.

“when she loved me.”

[marvellouslymadmim]

Hey! Aspiring fanfic writer here; I was wondering if you could talk a bit about your writing/editing process and how long it all takes.

Thanks!

Welp, roughly the same extremely long amount of time it takes to actually answer an ask, tbh 🙃

So...I only know how my brain works, and I can only tell you what works for me might not work for you, and that's OK. I'm breaking into two separate bits, because I almost never do writing and editing at the same time.

And as far as a timeline, honestly it just depends. On life factors, what my hormones are doing at the time (jfc like the week before my period, I have zero creativity, motivation, or attention span), if I'm having trouble with a particular scene, if I'm getting consistent positive feedback (yes, I can totally admit that I write faster when I know a particular reviewer is following along with every update), etc.

WRITING:

First, you gotta just...be fixated, I guess. Particularly if it's an AU, I sit with it for a long time before I ever write a word. I go over scenes, think about how the world changes, what stays the same, what *has* to stay the same to keep the characters true to their canon personalities. I sit with the characters for a long time, too--not just the main characters, but the supporting cast, too. In order to predict someone's future, you have to know their past. Most of our present actions are actually reactions to past events, when you think about it. The better you know your version of the character, the easier every other aspect of writing will be. I don't know how it is for other people, but I don't ever "feel" like I'm writing. I feel like I'm "witnessing", and the characters are simply doing whatever they wish. (***this is gonna be a thing during the editing process, too, so hang on to that)

Then once I have a general idea, I choose a title. Generally, I do not even start a word document until I have a proper title to put on it. The title is part of the theme and aesthetic to me, and it grounds me in the overall arc.

Once that's done, it's time for outlining. I generally wait until I feel this weird almost tingling in my left arm (weirder still bc I'm right handed) and I'm practically vibrating with a need to WRITE THIS STORY NOW. Then I put on some Bear McCreary (honestly, any videogame soundtrack will do, as they are literally designed to help you maintain focus and keep pace) and fucking go to town. For me, it helps to do this with pen and paper, so that I can go back up and squiggle little notes in the margin, rearrange the order, etc, far faster than I could on a computer.

Important note: the outline is not the end-all be-all. Some things don't make it to the final print. Some minor storylines get tossed or characters simply...take a different path than I expect. I will continue re-writing and updating the outline as I go along. On average, I usually have 5-8 outlines per story, and they're often 3-10 pages long. I also have a posted outline, which is a log of all the scenes that did make it to the final product. 

Then, it's the actual writing, at long last. I have found that I write best at the start of my day, before the noise and static of daily life comes in. So I wake up around 5am and spend 90minutes writing before beginning my workday routine. I have the Word app on my phone and may continue adding bits in throughout the day at work, if I get a moment. However, after 5pm my brain is usually fried and no more creativity happens. On weekends, I try to have one morning where I "sleep in" til 6am, and then write until at least 10am, sometimes 2pm, if I can get away with it.

The hardest part still is knowing when to transition and when to skip to the next chapter/scene/whatever. This is like...zero percent helpful, but I liken it to Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart's definition of pornography: "I know it when I see it." It may seem like a scene is circling, and sometimes it means you gotta leave the room a bit earlier bc the scene has already served its purpose. Other times, it means ya gotta stay with it a bit longer, because there's something the character is trying to say. Give them patience, and give yourself patience, too. Explore the scene and its dynamics. You won't know til you know and even then, sometimes you won't be entirely sure. That's ok, too. Part of the process. Remember editing will happen and you can decide then (hell, you can literally re-edit after it's been published, I've done that before too and added a note on the next chapter for any readers who might have read the first version 🤷🏻‍♀️ not ideal but still functional).

EDITING:

I do simple edits (spelling, grammar, etc) just about every morning as I reread what I wrote the day before, which is a refresher course for the day's writing session. But big "real" editing generally doesn't happen until right before posting.

Now, here's the ***issue from writing: sometimes, something just "doesn't work" in a scene. Again, you'll know it when you see it. The words a character is saying feels clunky. The pacing feels off. Something just...ain't right. More often than not, it means either I haven't truly sat with a character long enough to know their true motivations/backstory, or I am not giving characters the proper time/space/impediment to make the actions or say the things they're currently making/saying. I'm trying to force the flow, rather than letting it ebb and breathe when it needs to.

Absolute ProTip: You spent HOURS writing this scene. It's got some REALLY GOOD moments and lines in it. It doesn't work but you can't just delete it. It's your LIFE. I struggle with this A LOT, and I have found a solution: create a second "outtakes" document to cut and paste those scenes into. Sometimes I still keep moments or bits of dialog. Sometimes I later use bits in a later scene. Sometimes I never look at it again but I still feel secure in knowing that if I wanted to go back and use the original scene instead, I totally can. I don't think I've actually ever gone back to the original, tbh, but it reduced my anxiety about deleting the scene and starting over.

So back to the scene that doesn't work. I take it apart, figure out *at what exact point* it stops working, then work back up a few lines to see where the shift actually begins. More often than not, it's because I'm having characters express their feelings in ways they actually wouldn't. (people very very very rarely actually say what they're thinking/feeling, and you have to relay it in other ways). So I have to keep the internal monologue of what they're actually feeling/thinking, while figuring out how that actually translates via tone, body language, and what they do and don't say.

The "something ain't working stage" can take LITERAL WEEKS. I sometimes have to walk away for awhile, or tackle it only on days when I know I have hours upon hours to truly work on it. I keep circling back around, and eventually, the knot works itself out. Persistence, and insistence that "good enough" isn't actually good enough, are key. (this is why you have to fixated on the story you want to tell--because some days, it's going to take every ounce of that obsession to keep you going and keep you on the track of telling the story you wanted to tell, rather than settling or switching to an easier tack)

Sometimes, editing is a breeze. I don't change much, I may go a little more into the character's inner world here or there. Once you've been doing this for awhile, you'll just know when a story hits all its marks--and you'll also know when it's not, when it could be more or do more, and you can figure out how to get it there. There isn't a precise formula for it, it's more like cooking without an actual recipe to follow--a dash here, a bit there, you'll know it when you taste it.

And I'll leave you with this unsolicited bit: just write. Write often, write about everything, write what makes YOU passionate and happy, and absolutely write for yourself. Edit the fuck out of it, if you need to. Get a beta reader, if you need to. Get someone to just bounce ideas off, if you need to. And don't post it until you're truly ready and it's something you genuinely want to share. If someone gives constructive criticism, take in on the chin and move on (keep the notes, if you think they're valid, and toss em if you don't--you'll never be everyone's style of writer, so know that sometimes, people just won't be the target audience). Know that you'll grow and you'll learn and you'll find your own voice and like any skill, you'll develop a second nature about it--all those parts where I say "you'll know it when you see it" or "you'll feel it" absolutely come from spending a literal lifetime (28 years) writing stories, and thirteen years of writing fanfic in particular. It's ok if you don't see it or feel it right away. It takes practice. And you will have an audience at every skill level, no matter what (finding that audience? different story altogether...).

All totaled, this process can take anywhere from 3months to over a year. Stories are like children, I've found: they each develop at their own pace, and some may need more time and assistance than others. But they're still pretty wonderful. (except the bratty stories. they're the worst 🙄)

[hyperion-moonbabe]

Caught In Between: 04. The Sun and Moon Curse

IMPORTANT!!! TO ANYONE FOLLOWING OR READING MY TVD SERIES: This blog is currently my secondary blog. I have wanted to change it to primary for a while and since Tumblr does not allow it. I have created a new blog: @hyperion-moonbabe-new 

I will be porting everything over to this blog including my series and possibly eventually delete it so I can use this name without the “-new” on the end. If you would like to continue to read my series, please know that it will be continued on my new blog. Thank you!

Edit: Update

Summary: Athena Dumont has finally found a place to call home after many years of foster homes and traveling. She had finally tamed her supernatural side and just wanted to live a normal teenage life. She quickly discovers that there is nothing normal about her hometown, Mystic Falls and gets sucked right back into the supernatural world.

Post Date: 03.31.20

Word count: 4.1k

Based off: 02x09 “Katerina”, 02x10 “The Sacrifice”, 02x11 “By Light of the Moon”

00. | 01. | 02. | 03. 

I wake up to an empty bed, not questioning where Damon was. I got dressed and made my way downstairs. I noticed chatter in the main room, it was Damon, Stefan, Elena, and Rose.

“Okay, you have to understand I only know what I’ve picked up over the years and I don’t know what’s true and what’s not true. It’s the problem with all this vampire crap. But Klaus, I know is real,” Rose explains, I freeze halfway down the stairs wanting to wait where the conversation was going.

“Who is he?” Elena questions.

“He’s one of the Originals, he’s a legend,” Damon responds.

“From the first generation of vampires,” Stefan explains further.

“Like Elijah?” Elena continues to question. Sometimes this girl needs to learn to just wait and listen.

“No. Elijah was the Easter bunny compared to Klaus. He’s a foot soldier. Klaus is the real deal.” I roll my eyes at how Rose compares them.

“Klaus is known to be the oldest.” Stefan states.

“Okay, so you’re saying that the oldest vampire in the history of time is coming after me?” Elena asks trying to sort the information. Rose and Stefan disagree on the answer to Elena’s question.

“What they’re saying is, I mean if what she’s saying is true…” Damon starts.

“Which it is,” Rose rebuttals.

“And you’re not saying it so I don’t kill you,”

“Which I’m not,”

“Then we’re looking at a solid maybe,” Damon says, even though he’s not really sure.

“Look, Elijah’s dead, right? So no one else even knows that you exist.” Stefan states as I get closer to the room.

“Not that you know of,” Rose quickly responds.

“That’s not helping,” Damon says annoyed.

“Look, I’ve never even met anyone who’s laid eyes on him. I mean, we’re talking centuries of truth mixed with fiction. We don’t know if he’s real. For all we know he could just be some sort of stupid bedtime story,” Stefan says clearly trying to calm Elena.

“He’s real and he doesn’t give up. If he wants something, he gets it. If you’re not afraid of Klaus, then you’re an idiot.” Rose quickly says trying to get it through their thick skulls. I guess the only way to help them realize it, is for me to tell them what I know.

“Alright, we’re shaking, you’ve made your point,” Damon says, while I am surprised he didn’t rat me out or really Elena either.

“But, I haven’t,” I say stepping into the room. They all looked confused except Damon.

“I’m gonna have to go with Rose on this one. That person you said that you’ve never met who’s laid eyes on Klaus, Stefan. Well, you’ve met her.” I say making my voice quieter towards the end of my sentence and pointing to myself.

“You’ve seen Klaus?” Stefan asks me making his way over to me.

“Seen him? I lived with him, for a time” I state.

“So should we believe what Rose says?” Damon asks.

“Klaus tried to never act out or anything in front of me, but I have seen him act out. What I can tell you is that if he’s after Elena, it’s not gonna be good, he really doesn’t give up. And I promise that I won’t let him get to you,” I say turning my attention to Elena.

“So wouldn’t that mean he won’t give up on you either, because he clearly wants you,” Damon states.

“I can deal with him on my own, but I won’t let him hurt my friends,” I say sternly and cross my arms.

Elena starts to get up from her spot on the couch, “Where you going?” Stefan questions Elena.

“School. I’m late.” Elena says slowly, which means shes hiding something.

“Ooo, can you be late a little more. I gotta go too.” I say remembering that school is still a thing for me.

“Let me grab my stuff, I’ll go with you,” Stefan says after me.

“It’s okay, I know where it is. But be quick, Athena,” Elena says as I run up the stairs to grab my stuff.

I rush back downstairs, Elena and I make our way out the door, “So why did you want me to come and not Stefan? I mean I know you’re not really going to school,” I say walking with Elena.

“Because I’m going to talk to Katherine and I thought you may want to come along. I’m gonna text Caroline and let her know to meet us in the woods.” She says as she pulls out her phone to text Caroline.

We first stop by somewhere to get a bag and then make our way to wait for Caroline in the woods, “So why do you want to talk to Katherine?” I ask as we wait for Caroline.

“She’s the only one who knows the truth about Klaus. And I’m sure you know some information. But Katherine is 500 years old she’ll have other useful info, that can tell me how to stop him,” Elena explains.

“I can’t argue with that. But please know that I will keep him from hurting you by any means possible,” I reply taking her hands in mine. Before Elena can respond we’re interrupted by Caroline.

Elena lets go of my hands and grabs the bag she set down on the ground. We start to make our way over to the church ruins as Elena and Caroline talk about the situation.

“So, no offense, Athena, but I’m just wondering why you’re here,” Caroline asks looking at me.

“Well, I guess I should come out with it to everyone. I know Klaus, probably not as much as Katherine. But I could fact check her if possible,” I explain shortly.

“So, you actually have met the guy,” Caroline says disbelievingly.

“And lived with him. I don’t really know all that much about him and his quest for this curse to be honest. But I will tell you that, we may have been involved, and that I may be able to help. You can’t tell anyone, please promise that.” I say as, Caroline and Elena nod in agreement with my request.

We make it to the top on the stairs that lead down to the tomb as Caroline continues to ask Elena questions. We make our way down to the tomb, where there is a big stone door blocking the entry, “Are you sure you wanna do this?” Caroline questions looking at Elena.

“Yes, I’m sure. She’s the only one who knows the truth about Klaus, the only one who can tell me how to stop him,” Elena states turning back to Caroline. They continue to bicker since Caroline is worried about Elena. Caroline then makes her way over to the door and picks it up and moves it out of the way.

“Katherine,” Elena’s voice echoes into the dark abyss of the tomb. “I’ll be okay from here,” Elena says turning to Caroline and me, but we both just give her stern looks.

Soon enough we hear rustling from the tomb and Katherine appears into the light, “Hello, Elena. You come to watch me wither away? Goodbye, Caroline,” Katherine says with a raspy voice.

“As long as I stay on this side of the door, she can’t hurt me. Please,” Elena says and looks at both of us. Caroline and I just sternly look at Elena before we start walking away.

“Did I say you, Athena? Stay.” Katherine responds. I stop in my tracks and turn back and walk back to Elena.

“Stefan know you’re here?” Katherine questions her doppelganger.

“I brought you some things,” Is all Elena says while she sets down the bag she brought.

“You came to bribe me? What is it that you want?” Kathrine says clearly not wanting anything to do with Elena.

“I want you to tell me about Klaus.” Elena requests as she throws some things at Katherine’s feet.

“Mmm, you’ve been busy. But why can’t Athena tell you anything, she has spent some time with him,” Katherine says sounding more intrigued.

“Because I don’t have the information that you could provide. But speaking of, why do you want me here?” I explain to her getting right up to her but not into the tomb.

“I also brought you this. It’s your family history. It says in here that the family line ended with you. Obviously that’s not true,” Elena interrupts as she pulls out a big book from the bag. I go back to go through it to see what else there is.

“You think that if you brought me some family keepsake that I’d open up?” Katherine asks not wanting to give up any info.

“She also brought you this,” I say and pull a plastic water bottle out full of blood. Katherine tries to vamp speed to get the bottle but is held back by the spell keeping her in.

“You don’t look so good. How long before your body shuts down? 10, 20 years? It must be painful to desiccate and mummify. I can’t even imagine.” Elena states coldly. I look at her surprised at the confidence in her voice.  Katherine slides down the side of the wall as Elena pours a small bit of the blood in a cup and slides it over to Katherine.

“You have the Petrova fire,” Katherine states looking at Elena and drinks the blood.

“More blood?” Elena asks, using it as a tactic to get information.

As Elena slides the cup towards herself and I crouch down next to her Katherine starts to explain, “It’s a long story, Klaus and I. Goes all the way all the way back to England, 1492, after I left Bulgaria. Or was thrown out” She starts and take another gulp of blood. Katherine continues to explain how she ended up in England and involved with Klaus. 

“So, what did Klaus want?” I ask actually interested.

“The same thing that he’ll want from you,” Katherine says looking back at Elena.

“He wants to break the curse. He told me a little about it but not enough to tell me what he needed to do or really why,” I say as Elena and Katherine turn their attention to me.

“By sacrificing the Petrova Doppelganger,” Elena blurts out.

“He wanted to drain every single drop of blood from my body,” Katherine explains. I squeeze Elena’s hand when I notice her getting more nervous.

Elena hands me the bottle of blood to pour for Katherine as she continues to question her, “ What does the Petrova bloodline have to do with Klaus?”

“It’s really tedious but...The curse was bound by the sacrifice of Petrova blood. Witches are crafty with their spells. The doppelganger was created as a way to be able to undo the spell. Once the doppelganger reappeared, the curse can be broken,” Katherine explains.

“So you ran before he killed you,” I state trying to see where she was getting at.

“Something like that,” Katherine says and continues to explain how she met Rose, was healed by her and then hung herself to become a vampire.

“You killed yourself?” Elena asks even though it was clear that she had to die somehow to be here today.

“Klaus needed a human doppelganger. As a vampire, I was no longer any use to him,” Katherine responds.

“But it clearly didn’t work. I mean you’ve been running from Klaus ever since,” I state.

“Lucky you, you aren’t. I underestimated his spirit for vengeance but living in a suitcase is better than dying so you can have your blood spilled over some silly little rock,” Katherine says with a little annoyance. Elena looks overwhelmed and scared while Katherine just taunts at the idea of making Elena a vampire. Katherine continues with her story and explains that she used Rose and Trevor to look out for herself.

“So how much of your little story is true?” I ask looking at Katherine.

“I have no reason to lie. I have no reason to do anything but sit here and read and rot,” Katherine says annoyed as she flips through the book.

“Ok, so you mean it’s even partially true, that’s the reason why you came back isn’t it? Because you wanted to be the one to hand me over to Klaus.” Elena states.

“Mm, 500 years on the run, I figured maybe he’d be willing to strike a deal,” Katherine says struggling to get up from the ground.

“So you got Mason Lockwood to find you the moonstone,” Elena says.

“Right again,” 

“What else is needed to break the curse?” Elena asks.

“Mmm. Look who’s getting smarter.” Katherine taunts.

“It’s not just me or the stone, is it? Otherwise, there would be no reason to trigger Tyler Lockwood’s werewolf curse. But then why do you want Athena here?” Elena says as she thinks about it.

“Witches and their spells. So many ingredients, so many people to sacrifice.” Katherine taunts but not answering Elena’s question.

“So you need a werewolf? Why not me then?” I interrupt their conversation.

“Believe it or not, they’re hard to come by. And I had planned on triggering Tyler’s curse before I even met you. I mean I’m sure you would do just fine, except for the fact that I think Klaus would kill me on the spot for offering you up. Yeh, I heard some rumors about a Dumont wolf running around with Klaus, figured it was you.” Katherine explains as I just stare at her stiffly.

“What else?” Elena injects before I can respond.

“A witch to do the spell. Mine bailed but Bonnie will do just fine.”

“What else?”

“Vampire.”

“Caroline,” I say realizing that’s why she was probably killed.

“It could have been anyone I suppose but I like the poetry of Caroline.” 

“So you were gonna just hand us all over to be killed?” Elena asks.

“Better you die than I,” Katherine says before she slinks back into the darkness of the tomb.

Elena and I just stand there trying to take in all the information that Katherine dished out. We started to get ready to go until Stefan walked down the stairs, “Elena. Athena.” He says looking from me to Elena.

“Stefan, what are you doing here?” She asks him.

“I could ask you guys the same question,” He responds.

“Caroline told you,” I say under my breath behind Elena.

“No, she kept your secret but it didn’t take long for me to figure out what was so important that you’d have to keep it from me.” He explains.

“I knew that you’d stop me,” Elena says defensively. 

“Listen, whatever she said to you guys is a lie. Do not listen to her. She is a liar,” Stefan states.

“What if she isn’t?” Elena says back.

“Sorry to interrupt but you didn’t hear what she said,” I say walking up to the couple shaking my head.

“You don’t have to worry, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” Stefan says making his voice softer.

“That’s the problem, you won’t but you’ll die trying. How’s that any better?” Elena rebuttals. I notice Katherine come back out of the shadows.

“There’s nothing you can do, Stefan. I haven’t even told you the best part of the story.” She says and starts to tell us about how her entire family was killed. Stefan tries to keep Elena from listening but just says that there’s no hiding from Klaus and that when Klaus shows up, that we’ll all be dead.

Stefan and I take Elena back to her house, I notice some awkward tension in the air so I let Stefan walk her up to her door. After a while, I notice that Elena is crying and Stefan is just clutching her in his arms. He walks back to his car and sits for a while.

“Is she ok?” I ask him.

“Yeh, she’s shaken up. Worried about everyone else. Can you verify anything Katherine said?” He sighs.

“Well, I don’t know much but as far as the curse goes for breaking it. What she said sounds pretty solid. At least it sounded like it.” I reply.

“So you really knew the guy?” He asks as he starts the car.

“Yeh, but he didn’t tell me much. He didn’t like to bring ‘business’ home to me. As he liked to tell me. This curse is part of the reason I left, but I guess I couldn’t escape it. I’m sorry I can’t be more help.” I explain with a sad tone.

“It’s alright, better than none. Ummm… my house or yours?” He asks.

“Uh, yours. I’m still working on putting mine back together. No bed.” I say nervously.

“Alright,” Stefan says and drives us over to his house. 

I spent the next day just hanging out at the Salvatore house until I got a somewhat distressing call from Caroline asking for me to come to her house. I made my way over as fast as possible. Once I go to Caroline’s house, I was lead into the living room.

“What’s up?” I ask concerned.

“We found Tyler’s uncle’s video and log about his transformation and since he isn’t here I thought we would ask you about it,” She says. 

“Look, the first full moon sucks, I’m not even gonna sugar coat it. But over time it stops hurting as much and nothing beats running in the woods without any worries. I’m sure whatever your uncle did is what you want to do but I can assure you that being chained up isn’t the way to go.” I say sitting next to Tyler.

“Ok, thank you.” He says calming down.

“Anytime, just let me know if you have any more questions, we may not have a pack but we have each other. You can get through this.” I get up and walk over to Caroline who left to the front door, where I see Matt waiting.

“Hey, I have to go. Are you sure you want to help Tyler? You could get hurt, you know werewolf bites are deadly to vampires right?” I ask concerned for her safety.

“I’m sure. Thank you again for coming,” She replies back as we hug. She opens the door for Matt as I leave.

The next day Elena asks me if I could come over because she’s trapped in her house with Damon, while everyone else does whatever, I agree considering that there’s not much else to do and I’m sure Elena doesn’t want to be stuck with Damon. I make my way over to her house and knock on the door.

“Look who it is, our wolf buddy,” Damon says as he opens the door for me.

Damon and I make our way back over to the couch that Elena is sitting on, “Thank god you’re here,” She whispers to me.

“I heard that,” Damon whispers back. “Where’s Bonnie?” He asks making his voice louder.

“I thought she was meeting you,” Jeremy says as he enters the room.

“No, she’s on moonstone duty and we’re on Elena patrol,” Damon says gesturing to me.

“No, you are. I’m just here because I thought I’d keep Elena company.” I state back.

“And who’s on Tyler Lockwood and the full moon?” Jeremy asks.

“Vampire Barbie asked me if she could handle it, and I said, why not? Figured if she screwed up, he’ll bite her and I’ll be rid of two of my problems,” Damon says nonchalantly.

“Hold on a second. Tonight’s the full moon?” Elena asks and Damon’s phone starts to ring.

“Yep, But you’re too absorbed with all your suicidal tendencies to notice.” He says as he gets up to answer his phone.

“Shut up Damon,” I say and glare at him and he answers his phone. “I talked to both Tyler and Caroline and they have everything sorted out,” I say as Elena turns towards me.

“What about you? I mean you’re a werewolf,” She asks me concerningly.

“I’ll be fine. My curse has been triggered longer and my transformation won’t last as long.” I reassure her. 

After Elena and I are done talking he turns back to us, “Change of plans. You babysit,” He says and points between Jeremy and me “Hey you know, you should get out, enjoy the sun. Oh wait, you can’t” Damon says. Elena and I just both respond by throwing a pillow at him.

Elena and I decide to go hang out upstairs, after a few hours Elena goes down to get us some food. I hear Elena running up the stairs and start to knock on her brother’s door after she tells a clear lie to him, I hear Elijah’s voice. They make their way into Elena’s room where I’m just sitting on her windowsill.

“Oh, forgive the intrusion. I mean your family no harm. Athena.” Elijah says walking into the room and taking notice of me. I notice Elena’s face, which clearly reads that she wants me to stay in the room.

“Why did you kill those vampires when they tried to take me?” Elena asks as she quietly closes the door.

“Because I didn’t want you to be taken. Klaus is the most feared and hated of the Originals, but those that fear him are desperate for his approval. If word gets out that the doppelganger exists, there’ll be a line of vampires eager to take you to him and I can’t have that.” Elijah explains as he takes a seat next to me.

“Isn’t that exactly what you’re trying to do?” Elena asks.

“Let’s just say that my goal is not to break the curse.” He states.

“So, what is your goal?” I ask looking over at him.

“Klaus’ obsessions have made him paranoid. He’s a recluse. He trusts only those in his immediate circle.” Elijah explains.

“Like you?” Elena asks quieter.

“Not anymore. But, maybe Athena,” He says looking over at me. His statement just makes me confused since I had left both of them, how could either of them trust me.

“You don’t know where he is, do you?” I ask more intrigued by the situation.

“So you’re trying to use Athena and me to draw him out,” Elena says crossing her arms.

“Well, to do that, I need you to stay put and stop trying to get yourself killed. And possibly, have you come home with me, Athena,” Elijah and smirks.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Elena quickly asks.

“If I wasn’t being truthful, all your family would be dead and I’d be taking you to Klaus right now. Instead, I’m here and I’m prepared to offer you a deal.” Elijah responds.

“What kind of deal?” I ask and get up to stand next to Elena.

“Do nothing. Do nothing, live your life, stop fighting. And then, when the time is right, you and I shall draw Klaus out together. And I shall make certain that your friends remain unharmed. My deal for you Athena is the same as Elena or come home with me and help me.” Elijah explains.

“And then what?” Elena asks before I can get a word out.

“Then I kill him,” Elijah says coldly. My heart jumps a little, I guess Elijah noticed as he quickly shifted glance to me then back to Elena. I never thought about it since I left but it kind of hurt hearing Elijah say that he was gonna kill his own brother. I guess that shows that I still had a few feelings for him and I wasn’t sure what to think.

“I’m a man of my word, Elena. I make a deal. I keep a deal.” Elijah says as I turn my attention back to the conversation.

“That I can tell you is true,” I say from next to Elena.

“How are you gonna be able to keep everybody safe?” Elena questions.

I tune out the rest of the conversation as I start to feel a small pain in my abdomen signaling that my transformation is starting. I look out of Elena’s window to how high the moon is, “ I gotta go, my transformation is starting,” I strain as the pain gets stronger. I guess Elijah and Elena finished talking because the next thing I know, I’m rushed out of her house to somewhere in the woods.

“I don’t need your help Elijah,” I strain even more trying to get away from him.

“Okay, Okay. Can you at least consider my deal and come back home?” He asks.

“No, my friends need me here,” I say before I left out a gut-wrenching scream as my bones start to break.

“Just know that the offer is always there and that I really do need your help with Klaus,” Elijah says before I just barely notice him vamp speed away. 

A/N: Here is part 4 based on 02x09 “Katerina” and a little bit of 02x10 “The sacrifice” and 02x11 “By the Light of the Moon”. This was really just a filler part. I’m going to skip the next few episodes since those would also be more filler and I want to get into the juicy stuff haha. I know I’ve been randomly uploading a lot and I’m not sure how long this fast uploading will last. I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading! Stay safe and healthy everyone.

[deathfrisbeeinthetardis]

Bliss 7 and 12 please ;-;

Thank you anon, I absolutely adored writing this prompt, but being me I ended up with more angst than I planned to write for such a sweet prompt, but the ending is soft I swear. I hope you like it

Prompt Bliss 7. “Look at you… Goodness, you’re so cute.”

Ryan doesn’t know what they are even doing at this point.  

This is the tenth time this month that he had lingered at the office after work, throwing himself into doing and redoing his editing as people trickled out and the buzz faded away. His neck is straining and his eyes ache, but he catches himself before he rubs them, not wanting to jostle the contacts. The office is not the pinnacle of comfort and luxury, but he would give up his bed and all his jerseys if it meant he could be spared from his mind.  

There is no use thinking about it really, what’s done is done, but he can’t help his reluctance. It’s just an apartment, his rationality says. But why does every empty space hurt to look at, his heart whispers.

There are so many of them now. 

So he had hung back, and Shane had stayed with him, the two of them editing their various projects side by side, a giant bucket of Chicago Popcorn™ Shane’s parents had sent between them.

The problem, as it usually was, is that Shane’s company and some good old fashioned sleep deprivation don’t mix well, and productivity took the fallout, their work ethic gradually sliding off the table until they’re positively undoing efforts that they’ve already put out. 

Yes, maybe Ryan had something to do with Shane’s elbow and back crashing onto his laptop keyboard and deleting nearly two hours of editing, but it’s Shane’s fault he doesn’t save the videos every two minutes like Ryan does, non-compulsively of course. 

So their nights aren’t the most productive, but it’s off-hours so no one can really tell them off. The office is empty, unflipped light switches plunging patches of desks into shadow between the bright spots in mesmerizing patterns. The warehouse desk layout leaves much space for the mind to fill, but Ryan’s worked here for so long that he knows every twist and turn. He’d bet good money that he’d win in a ghost race through this organized mess. 

Ryan’s pretty sure the only person doing actual work tonight has chosen to evacuate from their desk to one of the corners farthest away from the pair of them. He feels a little bad to bother him with the un-moderated volume of their conversations and the not-so-infrequent giggling fits, but right now he’s too relaxed and happy to care. It’s the only time he gets to feel like this anyway. 

The Unsolved title card flashes, pulling his attention back to the screen, a white bar inching through the multicolored blocks of carefully compiled video and audio files at the bottom of the monitor. Ryan’s quite proud of this one, the crew were able to get some stellar shots on-location and there was probably one of the clearest spirit box replies they’ve gotten, no matter how hard the other man tries to discount it. 

“Aww you cut that part out again?’ Shane pouts beside him, headphones perched precariously on his big head.

"You can’t just go and tell ghosts they’re gonna be on Youtube every time.” Ryan swivels his chair to face Shane, a lofty air in his voice as he does his best to look down his nose at the other man, even going so far as pumping his seat up a few inches. Shane’s lip trembles like he’s holding back a laugh. It’s an argument they’ve had before, and Ryan knows how it’s going to go almost down to the line, but it’s always fun, so he plays the game. 

“And why not?" 

"They’re not from this time, they don’t even know what electricity is!”

“So you are admitting the spirit box is wack.” Shane rubs his hands together evilly, smiling so wide he could have been in that truth or dare movie, no special effects needed. “Oh, this is very good.”

“I did not say that,” Ryan protests, nudging Shane’s leg with a foot and feeling intensely satisfied when the boot leaves a dirt mark on the other man’s dark jeans. Jeez, they are literal children sometimes, but Ryan never has this much fun. 

“It’s just, they’re ghosts, and they’re making the effort to reach out to talk to these two idiots, cut them some slack.”

“You’re the only idiot here. I, Shane Madej, am a man of science.” Shane doesn’t even have to level up his seat and he’s still taller than Ryan. It is so, so not fair. 

“This is science!”

“Uh-huh,” Shane says, deadpan. There is movement just out of Ryan’s periphery, and he cranes his head to see the guy leave, wincing internally. He should probably apologize for being loud, but that can totally wait a day. Maybe two.   

“There has been plenty of evidence on ghosts and you know it.”

“From what I’ve seen? You really want to go into that?” There’s a challenge in Shane’s posture, and Ryan feels a rush in his chest that overruns the empty ache there, sees the trap but he jumps anyway.

“Hell yeah I do, we’ve caught some pretty good stuff along the way, Waverly, ‘brown and white’?  The freaking Sallie House?" 

"We both know the whole flashlight test is horseshit, Ryan.” Shane smirks, leaning back in his chair languidly with his hands behind his head, “As to the rest of those, the demons and ghosties gotta work harder than that, cause right now they don’t seem very interesting.”

  “How dare you! They’re more than interesting. They were all people once.”

“Let’s list what they’ve done, hmm? Jostling toothpaste, nudging bouncy balls, whispers so gentle you can’t even–”

“Nope I’m not letting you trivialize the evidence, it was fucking creepy to hear those on location.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re a wimp.”

“Fuck you.” Ryan shoots back, but there’s no real feeling behind it. He pulls a serious face to match Shane’s, squaring his shoulders and oh watch how fast he folds now. 

The other man’s joy is infectious, and soon Ryan is joining him, their laughs swallowed up by the high ceilings and far walls. Ryan’s eyes catch on the lights shining down on Shane, tracing golden lines along the edges of his lanky figure against the shadowed monotony of conference rooms. Breathless and curling into themselves, their gazes meet and linger across five feet of space.

They’re just two guys working into the small hours of the night, just another aspect of their life that their ghost hunting career has bled into, it’s all normal. 

Except it isn’t. 

Neither of them needs to be here to work, least of all Shane, and really, Ryan thinks with a twist in his chest, it has just been the two of them spending time in each other’s company. And Ryan does genuinely enjoy it. He loves the ease of their interactions, how they can hound each other mercilessly and bicker, how Shane can poke that special unhinged laugh out of him and make him forget about everything else. 

And how he, in turn, can make the big guy’s eyes all curvy and bright like no one does. 

But there’s no use thinking about things like that. 

There could be, a small voice says, a light shining weak in the churning abyss. Ryan passes a hand over his face and keeps it there, not trusting himself to not let his heart spill right out. 

“Ryan?”

He had thought he found the one with Helen, the person in the world he’d like to spend his life with, but then things had started falling apart, and she had left. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, Ryan knows, but he had gotten used to having someone to come home to, someone who knows him for who he is. 

You can have that again, the voice goes on small and determined, and Ryan wishes he could block it out. Isn’t he always good at that on their investigations? It was basically in the fucking job description. 

You just have to let yourself see.

Shane is safe, someone to trust, someone to rely on. No one else would have born with him all the times he lost his mind in those haunted places. No one else would have hummed Mama Mia to him constantly in those first days when Ryan hid the pain so well on camera, knowing the familiar tune would take the tears away, if only for a minute. Just one Shane Madej hailing from the Land of Lincoln, his co-host, his best friend, and the most important constant grounding him while the rest of his world is turned up-side-down. 

“You okay buddy?” There is a sharp tone in Shane’s voice, and Ryan belatedly realizes his eyes are wet. Shane’s face is flushed from laughing, but now he leans forward and there is suddenly so much care in the slight tension of his shoulders that Ryan wants to cry. 

He can’t risk losing this, he doesn’t know what he would do if he manages to fuck up this last good thing in his life. 

“Yeah,” He gives the other man a small smile, turning back to his screen to start up the video again, and he feels Shane relaxing back into his chair reluctantly. 

Soon he’s leaning forward again, attention rapt on every little detail Ryan had painstakingly compiled. 

“Hmm, didn’t you make a face at that point?” Shane taps a finger against his chin, eyes narrowed in concentration as Ryan reaches out to pause the replay, the lines of blue and yellow stark against the black background. 

“Oh, that? I didn’t think it would anyone would be interested to see it.” Ryan’s fingers tap at the keys for a few seconds, pulling up the clip from the front camera and overlaying it on the video. 

"I didn’t know it was gonna scare ya.” Screen-Shane says, tipping his head to the side and schooling his face into an impressive mask of innocence as he batted his eyes at screen-Ryan.

In-real-life Ryan feels warmth coil in his chest at the memory, and he smiles as he watches himself sputter for a bit, finally settling on a determined, You know what you did. He actually huffs out a laugh at his piss poor attempt to look intimidating, when the camera angle in the VO booth put Shane so much clearly taller. 

On the screen, Shane’s looking down at Ryan with a grin, though he at least has the self-awareness to look a little sheepish. Their eyes lock, and with an appropriate pause for dramatic effect, “I do.”

The clip takes another few seconds to end, their raucous laughter sound from his speakers. Then Ryan’s left with the still of both of them looking at the camera, frozen grins bright on their faces, captured in time. 

And Ryan’s caught in fucking limbo again, his free hand flexing in on empty air at the edge of his desk.  

“Good stuff huh?” Shane’s voice is quiet. 

“Yeah.” Breathe, just breathe, how is that so hard? It shouldn’t be this hard. 

“You considering switching the text out for this?” There’s a smile in Shane’s voice, and Ryan clears his throat and drags in a shuddering breath. 

“No it's—I’ll uh, I’ll put it in.” He hears Shane wheeling close on his chair, but he doesn’t turn to look, locking his eyes on the monitor and busying himself with the familiar shifts and adjustments. He just needs a bit of time to clear his head, then he’ll recover the ability to be a half-decent friend again, he’s sure of it. 

Ryan’s got his cursor hovering over the clip, leaning forward to keep an eye on the time markings when Shane loses a soft breath, his voice an awed murmur. 

“God, you’re so cute when you’re focused." 

And Ryan’s world freezes over. 

Around the edges of his vision, he sees realization, surprise, and something like fear flit across the other man’s face. But Ryan doesn’t do much, just holds as still as he can, like he can stamp down the giddy hope in his chest before it even has a chance to rise, so he can convince himself that it’s all just a freakishly detailed fever dream, because Shane can’t have just said that. 

Shane saw him as a friend, nothing more. Ryan does want that to be true, he really should. 

Breathing is becoming such a fucking bother again, he thinks absently. Maybe if he didn’t do it, life would be much easier. 

"Oh-oh god I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to spring it on you like that, what kind of shitty friend am I—just,” Shane breaks off, dragging both hands through his hair and tugging in frustration. When he finally speaks he sounds broken, voice thick as if he’s holding back tears, “I’m so sorry.”

It’s all too much, there’s a loud rushing in Ryan’s head. He bolts out of his chair, needing the freedom in space to think, to process. His chest tightens when Shane flinches at the sudden movement, eyes wide, fingers white where they’ve wrapped around the arm of his chair in a death grip.

He needs air, Ryan thinks, and his feet start carrying him away, faster and faster. But Shane follows him, and it has always been like this, he supposes. Ryan takes the lead and Shane hops on for the ride, for better or for worse, always a steady presence at his side when he needs him the most. Sometimes even when he doesn’t want to.

Shane’s steps close in and he catches at Ryan’s arm, “Ryan wait, please.”

Ryan blinks hard, but he doesn’t get to wake up this time. Shane’s fingers are burning points of pressure on his mind. 

He opens his mouth to speak but there’s a strange taste, two cool lines trace down his face and his vision is swimming, and oh wouldn’t it just be perfect if he blacked out, poor little Ryan, can’t even take a fucking joke without fainting—

“Oh god, don’t cry Ry, please, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Was it a fucking joke.” Ryan bites out, voice barely louder than a whisper but it still comes out harsher than he means. He can’t look at Shane, so Ryan keeps his eyes down, stares at the mud on Shane’s boots from their last shoot. He needs to know. 

“No,” Hurt, that’s what it is, and there’s far too much of it in Shane’s voice for it to be right. “No it wasn’t.” Shane lets go of Ryan’s hand to curls an arm around himself, and Ryan aches for the burning contact like it’s a physical wound. 

“Oh.” It’s more a punched out puff of air than a word. Oh.

“I-” Shane swallows, eyes shifting then settling back on Ryan, “I was looking at you, and it-it slipped out, I’m sorry.”

The silence isn’t complete, of course it isn’t. The sound of traffic exists at all hours of the day here. But it still envelops Ryan, wrapping around his throat and trying to suffocate the words he’s struggling to form. 

“Don’t be."  

"What?” Shane breathes, hesitant, almost disbelieving, his eyes dart to search Ryan’s face, “you’re not saying—do you—”

“I think I can.” Ryan says, and he tastes truth on his tongue. 

Not now, not even tomorrow, but maybe next week, or the week after that.

“You do?"  

"I do.” He affirms, and Ryan’s throat closes up with something warm when a lopsided grin starts to form on Shane’s face, small and hopeful, a gentle flush creeping onto his cheeks. They’re just standing in the office looking at each other, and Shane’s hand lifts up a little as if to reach out, but he catches himself before it makes it into Ryan’s personal space. 

“You wanna head back home? I’ll pack the popcorn.” Ryan can’t really breathe, so he just nods and offers Shane a watery smile. 

Their fingers brush when Ryan hands Shane a blanket for the couch, the corners of Shane’s eyes are crinkling and Ryan is breathless. He’s been feeling like that a lot tonight, and it seems that life is determined to keep him that way with all the curveballs it’s been chucking at him. 

But this time it’s not a bad feeling. Not at all. 

He fiddles with his sleeve and watches Shane settle down, making his way around his apartment with a familiarity accumulated over years’ worth of movie nights and beers and popcorn. 

It’s still too soon, and he doesn’t think he can do anything about this whole thing he’s got himself into. But he’s got Shane with him, and for once Ryan’s not afraid he’s going to leave. 

And maybe, Ryan thinks. Maybe one day he won’t need to hide from his apartment and its empty spaces. 

[riskeith]

ooo! how was playing? what do you think about the event? i’m really enjoying it actually... always nice getting new daily things to do hehe.

yeah i think everyone knows The Cover now. i still can’t believe they did that... not complaining tho... oh really? you’re absolutely right and judging by the way they’re taking the story it seems like those two will have a lot more growth to their relationship. who knows maybe we’ll even get a part where bakugou apologizes or even talks about their past etc. one can only wish. YEAH i’ve seen both the movies and i love them!! they’re super fun and such a nice break from everything that happens in the anime sjskjssk kiribaku in the first one was so gay i.... we get it boys y’all in love fhjsjdjfk (THE SIDEWAYS TODOBAKU SMILE... one of my favorite moments ever) i am all caught up now.. waiting for s5... :(

no clue!! it’s just my theory so it might be wrong. the blue one was cute too so was the pink one.... they’re all cute why do we have to pick just one :( HEY you do know how to draw 😡 pretty amazingly too! but i’d love to see that in your style chongyun is so precious.. <3

omg i gotta hustle hard for AR 35 then i already miss him. i’m at 26 now and god.. it’s getting more and more difficult i can’t imagine how it is at like 45... 😭

oooooh!!! honestly barbara healing is godsent if you don’t get him you should consider it (hopefully you do though!!) IVE SEEN VIDEOS OF OCEANID AND HE LOOKS SO SCARY CLUNA.... no thoughts head empty only boy scouts party. looking at others with amazing parties: ok but do you have boy scouts party?

i mostly have sword users! but like i mentioned i’m starting to fall in love with book users (and even bow users) shskfhdkd so i might consider investing in those some day idk they just shoot of attacks and it’s so sexy. no hands dirty. ningguang seems so op 😭 plus geo is so nice!! like an all around element.

HE’S TALL? he has a short person voice...

i’m making a twitter i wanna see some fluff 😭 wait really? even this fandom is shit? why 😭 i sometimes see yt comments and the thing i’m iffy about is how people talk about spending money on it etc but is there more?

i’ve never heard anyone do that that’s so interesting!!!! do you write it down in the same doc and then delete it or do you write it separately?

ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS!!! i’ve had so many ideas come to me before bed and i always think that i’m gonna remember them but i never do it makes me so upset. especially if it’s an idea of how to continue a story i’m stuck with... god it’s the worse. writer things 🤪

“stan loona” aka bane of my existence. i don’t usually tell ppl i used to stan because of that reason sksksj. god that was the worst sheesh. anyway. yelling at ALL of these!!! ofc i know daddy issues slowed!!!!!!!!! it’s like one of the most popular slowed songs we’re all just a sad horny bunch loving sexy vibes huh. i listen to slowed songs a lot when i write actually it sets the mood. it doesn’t even have to be anything racy sometimes it’s just calms you down. do you listen to music while you write? also i don’t listen to any of those you mentioned except troye 😭 i’m sorry 😭 but if you’re have recs i’d love to hear them ofc!!

“after school” time that’s so cute. it reminds me of when you’re younger and you run back home and eat a snack and watch cartoon (i say that as both of us still watch cartoons... yee) speaking of crying; would you consider yourself a crybaby? (such a random question hskshdjdfhhd)

before i leave; let me blow your mind with a little something... https://twitter.com/primo_fates/status/1347780975078506496?s=21

hehe... mwah. ;)

it was good!! i tried to get some ominous masks and weathered arrows, but drop rates are always shit lolll. and i think the event is alright! i don’t love it but yeah as you said it’s fun to have something more to do every day.

ikr omg... it’s such a good cover LMAO. omg a bakugou apology 😩😩. what did you think of deku vs kacchan part 2?? i regularly rewatch clips of it and cry LMAOOO god bakugou.. “why did i become the reason for all might’s end?” heart broken wow. NICE!! yeah i remember everyone freaking out over the kiribaku scenes in the first one and honestly,,,, how else do you explain it LMAO. (AND THAT SIDEWAYS SMILE!!! holy shit i watched the movie like the day after i got into todobaku and that scene obliterated me.... absolutely destroyed!) aw nice! but yeah now it’s just the waiting game i guess lol welcome to the club 🤪

IKR??? i saw the “once you pick one the others are gone” and i was just nooooooooooo whyyyy. you can’t give us all these options then don’t actually give us an option 😭 AHAHA thank u but i always joke that i can only draw well like once every 10 tries so... yeahhh we shall see! i have this thing envisioned in my mind but i am unable to execute it fskhfkdsjfs

yeah omg when i reached 45 i was like “wow i’m gonna have to do the ascension quest soon” but it’s taking me so long to reach ar 46??? yikes how am i meant to get the experience with no quests fkhdsfkjsd

i use barbara a lot in the fire domains and with the pyro regisvine!! it’s kinda funny that i’m bringing a level 40 into a level 70+ fight LOL but yeah she’s good! AND YEAHHH OCEANID LEGIT GIVES ME NIGHTMARES I JUST. as soon as i had an actual team that could beat it i grinded it as much as i could before my world level went up and it became impossible again.... but since mine might go up again soon maybe i should grind some more... and maybe i’ll be able to level up both xingqiu and barbara lol. EXACTLY!! can they pls interact in game somehow omg.. we need a bennett story!! and more razor!!!! and chongyun too!! i forgot he hasn’t actually appeared in game hfsdkjfds. and ofc xingqiu <3

fdfjlsjfs are you gonna go from a no long range team to an only long range team ahahah. and you like geo??? omg no... i hate it bc it’s so like. inert FHKDJFSD. but i guess the shields are really nice!

HE’S 172 CM!!!!! he has a baby face too so it’s pretty wild fhskdjds

ooo wdym how they talk about spending money? i don’t really look at youtube comments tbh lol. and i haven’t really seen people talk about spending money much on twitter? tho some content creators i follow open commissions for money for the gacha fhsdfksj. if you do end up joining genshintwt i hope you have fun!! 

same doc and then i delete! but sometimes if the plan is really long i’ll make a new doc so i can see both at the same time (but recently i’ve just been opening the same doc again so i can see both that way lol). do your dotpoints go into the same doc as your writing one?

LMAOOO yeah i’m always like “hnghhh okay it’s fine.. i will Remember... trust myself” and then i never do and it’s just like welp goodbye to that amazing idea. but also bc it was thought up at such a weird time maybe it isn’t actually that good after all LOL

oh nice!! yeah slowed songs are soooo good. and i usually do listen to music! it’ll depend on what i’m writing bc i like the songs to have a similar vibe, but sometimes it’s too distracting so i put on lofi or something so there are no words ahaha. oh rippp LOL! hmm well badlands by halsey was my klance/voltron album writing soundtrack for a really long time.. i wrote a few fics with that in the background i think! melanie martinez’ k-12 album has a whole free movie to go with it! if you wanna check that out. bastille’s pompeii was really popular but i also really like flaws and of the night from them.. a lot of these are older bc i don’t listen to new stuff fhsdfkjds. and hmm pentatonix (they’re an acapella group!) do a lot of covers so maybe you can find one of a song you like and check them out that way? ahah that’s a lot feel free to not listen to any!! no stress at all lmao

oh fun fact melanie has a idk what to call it character? and song called ‘crybaby’! so very coincidental you asked. but yeah i think i am? LMAOOO like if i’m alone in my room watching something and it’s sad i Will Not hesitate to cry.. like sometimes you just gotta get it out you know? and sometimes maybe it’s a little boy singing a korean cover of colours of the wind but it’s so ethereal you just burst into tears but that’s fine! FHDSKJFHDSFKJS. how about you?

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MY GOD!! i legit. my jaw is dropped. i. oh my god 😭😭😭😭😭😭 FHSJFKHSKDJF1!!!! 😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 this is so atmospheric and cosy and warm 😭😭😭 i can go at peace now.. fhskfhdsjf

thank you always!! - c.r. xoxo

[starker-stories]

An Accord (WIS), Chapter 10

Okay, let's try this again.

I posted this chapter Friday, like it was supposed to be, and then found an absolutely massive amount of serious mistakes. So I deleted it and spent the day fixing them.

So here's Chapter 10, take 2...

This fic is on a weekly update schedule. Every Friday.

Tumblr Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13 AO3 Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13

Tags: Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyamory, Cheating, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Domestic Nightmare Tony Stark, Reconciliation, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, WinterIronSpider, Happy Ending, Clothed Sex, Domesticity, Peter Parker is legal age in the state of New York, College Student Peter Parker, Takes place about 2 years after Civil War. Closeted Character

Summary: “My boyfriends are super-villains,” Peter said giggling. “I’m the only pure innocent one in this place.”  ——————————————————————————————

Chapter 10: Brooklyn

“I hate being the only person in this house that gets hungry,” Peter said, breaking their post-kiss snuggling session.

Bucky laughed. “I’ll cook.”

“Menus. By. The fridge. I am not waiting for one of Pretty’s delicious, but time consuming, Depression meals.”

Bucky climbed out of bed and started pulling his shirt on.

Tony shrugged. “If you want,” he said, climbing out of bed and not bothering to put his clothes back on. Bucky didn’t either.

Peter pulled his jeans on. “Not all of us are exhibitionists, Tony.”

“My body is a fuckin’ gift and you are blessed to see it,” he answered as he headed to the kitchen. To get the menus.

Bucky raced past him for the bedroom door, poking him in the stomach as he passed. “My body is a fuckin’ gift. You need to work out with me.”

“I’m going on fifty,” Tony defended.

“I’m in my second century. I’m cooking. I can only eat so much Asian food and pizza in a month.”

“Don’t let the teenager order dinner. He refuses to let any restaurant that doesn’t normally deliver make an exception for the billionaire in the house.”

“It’s not fair,” Peter argued, speeding past both of them using his spider abilities. He settled on the kitchen stool, waiting to see who would get to the kitchen next: Tony to the menu drawer or Bucky to the stove.

“You are depriving whatever poor waiter Molly sticks with bringing me dinner of a ridiculously huge tip,” Tony said, tossing the menu for Marea on the counter. “Touch that stove, Bucky, and I swear…”

Bucky picked up the menu. “So what’s Molly’s Place have to offer?”

Tony sputtered. “I’d tell Michael what you said, but I value my permanent reservation at his restaurant too much. It’s Marea and it’s the best restaurant in the city.”

Bucky looked at the menu. “Billionaire, right?” he asked, grinning.

“Leave me a few pennies in the bank account,” Tony said.

“Il branzino, il caulini e l'antipasto, il di manzo.”

Tony’s eyebrows headed for the ceiling.

“I’m fluent in Italian, Spanish, Catalan, French, German, Finnish, Hungarian, Romanian, Czech, Serbian, Russian, Chechen, Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese, and Arabic. Oh yeah, and English. All accentless except for English. Now that I’m me again, I can’t get the Brooklyn out of it.”

Tony hooked his arm around Bucky’s neck and kissed him. “I can live with the Brooklyn,” he said, happy that Bucky wouldn’t ever speak unaccented English again.

“And I was impressed by your Italian, French, Spanish, Russian, and Chinese!” Peter said.

Bucky shrugged. “He wasn’t involved in the overthrow of as many governments as I was.”

Peter burst out laughing, then caught himself. “I shouldn’t find that funny, huh?”

Tony chuckled. “Yeah, Pete. It’s fuckin’ hilarious.” He winked at Bucky. “Maybe not as many, but it’s a non-zero number.”

“You’re both awful!” Peter said, a smile still on his lips. “Wait. You didn’t,” he asked Tony, more seriously.

“Sometimes privatizing world peace is a less than honorable pursuit. And do you think the same people are running Afghanistan as were before my visit there? Not an official government on that one, but it counts.”

“Sorry. That mess was my fault,” Bucky said sheepishly.

“I’m sure he did a lot for Russia there, Pretty, but not arm the damn Taliban. That would be Howard and then me after your dead twin brother put me in charge. So yeah, Pretty,” Tony smiled, “a non-zero number.”

“My boyfriends are super-villains,” Peter said giggling. “I’m the only pure innocent one in this place.”

“Why do you think we keep you around,” Tony said.

 “That’s why we keep you around,” Bucky said, almost in unison. They high-fived. And found their hands stuck together with webs.

“Where did you…” Tony said in shock.

Peter chuckled. “Bucky… how many guns do you have hidden in the penthouse?”

“A… lot,” Bucky said sheepishly.

“Tony,” Peter said in a sing-song. “How many of those bracelet thingys do you have laying around in case the micro-repeaters stop working?”

“Um… like he said.”

“Do you think I only have two webshooters?” Peter laughed.

“Get us out of this,” Tony said, irritatedly. “I have to call and order dinner.”

“I can do it.” Peter picked up a phone.

“I am not going to listen to you mangle the Italian language, kid. Get your super-villain boyfriends out of this. Or we’ll kidnap you and take you to our secret lair.”

“Wait,” Bucky said, “that sounds like fun.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Tony grinned.

“Yeah. It does,” Peter chimed in. “When I’m not fuckin’ starving! Karen, hit them with the dissolving fluid.” He aimed his hand at Bucky and Tony’s joined wrists.

Tony’s left eyebrow questioned him.

“Tony… of course I can move Karen to my webshooters like you move FRIDAY to your glasses. If you want your proprietary tech to stay proprietary, stop letting FRIDAY do everything for you.”

“He’s…?” Bucky started, incredulously.

“A genius? Yeah. Gonna put me out of a job. Give me the goddamn phone.”

“Nope,” Bucky made a grab for it. “I am not gonna listen to you mangle the Italian language.”

Which led to a string of cursing in said language as Peter facepalmed. “I am never going to eat.”

~~~~~

“That wasn’t Italian,” Bucky said as they finished dinner.

“Of course it was. I mean I am fond of Gargulio’s for old times sake, but Marea’s better.”

“Not the food,” Bucky said, making a dive for the last of the desert.

Tony laughed. “Not exactly Italian. But you didn’t speak it when you went to Gargulio’s did you?”

“Italian? Fuck, I could maybe manage proper English.”

“You would’ve heard the difference. It’s Napoletano. Like your English can’t lose Brooklyn? My Italian can’t lose Naples because I learned it from my mom.”

“She was actually from Italy?” Bucky said, still hesitant to bring up the subject.

Tony nodded. “She came here to go to university. An unexpected me put an end to it.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said quietly, looking down.

“Why? Did you kill her?” Tony asked.

“Yeah.”

“You gotta stop taking credit for his bullshit, Pretty.” Tony reached out and brushed Bucky’s hair back then lifted his chin, turning his face to him. “When those words were said, were you you?”

“I did it.”

“Not what I asked. Before 1945, would you have done that?”

“Never.”

“You didn’t kill her, Bucky.”

Tears welled in Bucky’s eyes. His jaw clenched as he tried to keep them back. Tony ran the backs of his knuckles lightly across his temple and his tears fell.

Tony scooted his chair next to Bucky’s. “You didn’t kill her.” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the side of Bucky’s head. He closed his eyes and his own tears silently fell.

Peter watched the moment pass between them. Tony’s mom’s death was something that had weighed heavily on him his whole life. He was finally getting closure. How could he be jealous of that? They needed each other right then. Peter stood and both men looked at him. He walked around the table and put kisses on top of, first Tony’s, then Bucky’s heads. “Take Bucky to bed,” he said tenderly. “I’m gonna go study.”

“Baby,” Tony said, looking up. He pinched the bridge of his nose after sliding his fingers over his eyes to wipe the tears. “Do you mind?” he asked Peter quietly.

“Not even a little,” Peter said. “Take him to bed.” He paused and brushed his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

~~~~~

“C’mere, Pretty,” Tony said. Their tearful moment past, he felt playful. He turned Bucky and pushed his back gently against the closed door. He draped his arms around Bucky’s neck and chuckled. “Peter’s shorter than me.”

Bucky stood straighter.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Fine!” He pulled himself up on Bucky’s shoulders, stood on tiptoes, and kissed him.

“Not used to taller guys?” Bucky grinned.

“Not in awhile, no.”

“Problem?”

“You’re shorter than me laying down, Pretty,” Tony said with a smirk, standing flat on his feet. He dropped his voice to a whispered purr. “And when I’m on top of you.”

“Fuck,” Bucky said on a long breath.

“Problem?” Tony asked as he grabbed Bucky’s hands and led him to the bed. They rolled facing each other, Tony on his left side, Bucky on his right.

“I’m used to being the most charming, smug, and seductive one in the bedroom, that’s all,” Bucky said laughing.

Tony kissed the laugh off his lips. He brushed Bucky’s hair back. “I love that sound, Pretty.”

Bucky ducked his head, resting his forehead on Tony’s chest. Who was taller than him laying down. “You asked me something when we were all talking earlier.” He put a light kiss on the square inch of skin underneath his lips.

“Hmm? And?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I know, baby,” Tony said tenderly. He’d watched it happen, Bucky slowly fall in love. When he settled into it, it made Tony realize his own love. Feeling actual love for anyone was new, brought out by Peter. Feeling love for Bucky, just as deep but different and needing both, was entirely outside of his experience.

“Will Peter mind?”

“I’m pretty sure Peter already knows. He’s just scared because he’s younger.”

“You’re younger than me.”

“I mean, being an adult. He’s not, but he’s more than just a kid. I kinda toss an extra five years or so on him from the shit he’s been through.”

“About the same age I enlisted,” Bucky nodded. “That’s about how he feels.” He paused. “I love him, too.”

“I know that. And both of us love you. Not just because you give great head.”

“Tony,” he said in mock complaint.

“Most seductive and tallest,” he said, tilting Bucky’s face up for a kiss.

Bucky laughed. “And I thought you were tickling Peter when I heard you two laughi… Oh fuck… He can hear us!”

“Not yet, but I’m gonna fix that,” Tony purred. He ran his palm slowly down Bucky’s chest until he reached his waist. He stopped briefly at the button of his jeans before unfastening it.

It took some entirely unseductive wiggling around before they were both naked and in each other’s arms again. Bucky’s kisses were biting and hot. Tony’s were possessive and deep. Their hands clutched and pulled. It was very much closer, tighter, harder, now!

“I know you like riding me,” Tony said, struggling to catch his breath. “Do you like it on your back?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky said, rather flatly.

“Not what I asked.” Tony rolled himself on top of Bucky. He reached his arms under Bucky’s shoulders and slid himself up along the man’s body. “Baby, that’s something you gotta get used to with me.”

“You talk too fuckin’ much during sex?”

“Okay, that’s two things you gotta get used to with me.”

“The leftovers of your fuckin’ Long Island accent make three?” Bucky grinned and bit again.

“All right, Brooklyn. Since you aren’t objecting…”

Tony found the lube under the pillow he always put it under and kissed Bucky through the awkwardness of doing so. One-handed he managed to squeeze enough of a dollop onto his hand to reach between them and stroke Bucky’s cock. He didn’t play, but directly went for things he’d discovered by rubbing him through his pants.

“Fuck,” Bucky panted, eyes wide at how fast he’d gotten so far.

Tony rubbed precome and lube over the head of Bucky’s cock. “Oh baby, that is… Fuck me, you’re gorgeous when you’re getting gone.”

“Getting? You’re gonna make me come.”

“I’m not gonna make you come before I’m ready to.” Tony took his hand off of Bucky’s cock, reached beneath his balls and slid his still-slick hand between his cheeks. The tip of his forefinger circled his rim and Bucky pushed down against it.

“Greedy,” Tony said, nipping his lip.

With only slightly less finesse than he’d done before — dammit! he and Peter were going to have to compare notes! — Tony coated his finger with lube and worked it inside of Bucky. “I’m not your fuckin’ child bride, Tony.”

“Ya ever think that I wanna do this because I…” Tony slipped another finger inside, “…like watching you?” He spread his fingers apart and slid his third in between them. “Fuck…” Tony moaned, watching the way Bucky moved when his fingers pressed up.

“What?” Bucky asked before he lost the ability to speak. From where he was lying… gasping… writhing… groaning… Tony wasn’t getting anything out of it.

“That, Pretty. That’s what I want. If I just want to get off, I can do that on my own.” Tony slid down a little which let his fingers push in deeper. They made Bucky gasp again. “This…” Tony breathed over his nipple before touching the tip of his tongue to it. Bucky’s breath caught. “…I only get with you.”

“From another person, you mean.”

Tony combined the movement of his fingers and the slow, wet drag of his lips across Bucky’s nipple. Bucky tried to move away from the overstimulation, but was held by Tony’s other hand on his shoulder. He could break free, easily, but he didn’t.

“I meant what I said, Bucky.” He dragged his open mouth down Bucky’s abs. The other man rolled his body up to meet his mouth. Kissing up the center of his body from his navel, Tony’s tongue swirled around the divot of his collarbone,

Bucky nearly came off the bed when Tony entered him. His back arched and Tony’s hands pulled him down, deeper onto his cock. He only thought about it after he’d cried out, but there was no way Peter didn’t hear that.

Tony pulled back with a long slow drag until he was almost entirely out of Bucky. Tony snapped his hips upward as he pushed hard and deep inside. Both hands on either side of Bucky’s head, his fingers tangled in his hair. He kissed him again, slow and soft, His thrusts were slow and long. He leaned up and whispered in Bucky’s ear. “I wanna learn you, Bucky.”

Bucky’s whimpers were nothing like Peter’s. Those were high, desperate, and pleading. Bucky’s broke into little short breaths, low and rising only at the very end. They started out demanding but Tony made them fall into begging.

Bucky groaned, his body broke out in a fine sweat, as Tony was managing to drive him fucking nuts with the way his thick cock scraped just the right way inside of him. Enough to get him hot but nothing more. Enough to make him need.

“Oh god!” Bucky cried out when Tony stopped playing and started fucking him hard. Not fast, but hard. He hadn’t realized that the two things could be separated. Bucky pushed down onto Tony’s cock. “Oh fuck Tony!” I didn’t…” His words were unintelligible. Broken on a rising moan. “That… could…” His attempt to make sense was lost to a loud cry. His cock dripped precome onto his belly.

“Around my waist now, baby,” Tony crooned and Bucky hooked his ankles across each other on Tony’s back. Tony stretched himself out over the taller man, pulling himself deeper as he slid up. Bucky’s heels dug in.

“Oh fuck, Pretty,” Tony moaned, his dark eyelashes fluttering. He snapped his hips sharply, seeking the depth that the new angle gave him. Tony reached up over Bucky’s right shoulder, and threaded his fingers into his long hair, holding his arm still, unable to move. But he said, “Hold me, baby.”

“Tony, no. I can hurt you.” Bucky realized that Tony meant for him to hold with his left arm.

He thrust in hard again. “Hold me, Bucky.” He kept Bucky’s right arm pinned with his elbow on the mattress under his arm, and Tony reaching up still into his hair.

Hesitantly, Bucky wrapped his left arm around Tony’s chest.

Tony kept a regular rhythm, deep and hard but not fast. He ached to go faster. Being inside Bucky was nothing like Peter. He knew Bucky could take it rougher. His body was used to responding to rougher. Tony hated knowing how that adaptation came about. He wasn’t going to blend himself into the body-memory that Bucky had of those times. So no matter how much his Pretty’s responses made him want to go faster, he stayed slow.

“Please…” Bucky moaned on a broken breath.

“Please what baby?”

“Faster. Please.”

“Mm hmm,” Tony purred as he dragged his lips, wet, open mouthed, across the stubble on Bucky’s sharply defined jaw. He went no faster.

“Tony,” Bucky drew out the name on a moan low in his throat.

“Mm hmm?” His thrusts were shallow, deep, and kept Bucky filled. The hand in Bucky’s hair lifted his head to where he could kiss him. It was Tony who bit, held Bucky’s lip in his teeth, and sucked. He nipped sharply and let go. As he did, the snap of his hips finally went faster. Tony felt the fingers of Bucky’s left hand dig into the muscle on his side. Then he heard the faint electromechanical whir of his arm’s strength being pulled back even as the man groaned, distracted with the pleasure of finally being fucked faster.

He released his hold on Bucky’s right arm and moved the man’s hand between them. He waited until Bucky wrapped it around his cock before he sucked his earlobe into his mouth. “Not yet,” he whispered.

Bucky’s eyes opened and he was about to say something when he saw Tony’s smirk. “Oh, fuck you,” he groaned.

Tony laughed softly. His words stuttered. “You can do it now… make yourself come… whenever you want. Or you can wait…” Tony’s smirk returned. “Gets better. Your… choice.”

“Fuckin’ hate you.” The whining moan Bucky made when Tony scraped his teeth along his neck and bit where it curved into his shoulder, proved his words a lie.

Bucky took his hand off of his cock entirely and out from between their bodies. He put it flat on the bed. “Now you have a lot to live up to,” Bucky said, Tony’s smirk transferring to his face.

Tony leaned back more on his knees and balanced his left arm near Bucky’s waist. “Gimme that hand,” he said, reaching behind himself, floundering around for Bucky’s left hand. He leaned forward, holding it by the wrist once he had it. He growled in Bucky’s ear. “I love you.”

Tony leaned back, pulling Bucky’s ass onto his haunches. When he rose up with his thighs, he fucked hard and deep. One hand was on his waist, urging him down to meet him. Bucky started pushing down to do that. Bucky was hot around him, the rocking movement and the man’s eagerness making him clench around Tony’s cock. Tony was groaning in pleasure, letting the powerful sensations distract him from the fear of what he was going to do. He took Bucky’s left hand and put it, flat palmed, on the center of his chest. The first test had been for Bucky. This one was for him. He was more deeply in love with Bucky than he wanted to admit. And Tony couldn’t love, not really love, without trust.

Bucky’s eyes went wide. He was going to object, but when he looked up at him; he saw Tony’s eyes tightly close. He watched as Tony pulled his lips into his mouth and bit them shut. He saw the wince of remembered pain and fear. He saw the struggle on the man’s face as the present warred with the past. He watched the two fight to reconcile. But Tony never moved Bucky’s hand away from the most vulnerable part of his body.

The man he’d betrayed so deeply, giving him that level of trust was unbelievable. “Oh Tony,” Bucky breathed out, overcome. He ground himself down on Tony’s cock, needing to be closer, and was rewarded with the man increasing his pace, pounding into him hard, but without anger or wanting to cause anything but pleasure. Bucky fell into babbling when Tony was at the height of his thrust and, more often than not, managed to hit his prostate. “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…”

Tony kept his eyes closed as his hand held the back of Bucky’s hand. Instead of the metal fingers curling around the edges of the arc reactor, trying to hurt him, Bucky touched with nothing but the flat of his palm. He moaned, raised himself up and held in deep, feeling Bucky surrounding him. Tony’s fear finally broke and he let go of Bucky’s hand.

He listened to Bucky panting, fast and shallow — catching, holding, shuddering, letting go. Small deep groans that ended on another caught breath. Bucky’s legs dropped from around his waist and he pushed up with his feet on the mattress, adding his force that of Tony’s as they fucked. Tony pushed himself deeper, ground their hips together, filling Bucky with his entire length. He opened his eyes and looked down.

“Oh Pretty,” he moaned at the sight.

Tony lost himself in those blue eyes, dark with desire, eyelashes fluttering until his eyes closed. Bucky’s lips parted with his ragged breathing — full and swollen, flushed bright pink, wet and shining.

Bucky’s scream was low and loud. His eyes flew open as, untouched, his orgasm tore through him.

“That’s it, Bucky. Come for me, baby. Oh god… oh fuck!”

Tony groaned as his breath held. Both breath and release escaped at the same time. As he shuddered as he came and fell atop Bucky. He draped his arms over his shoulders, under his neck, and held on as the quakes passed through him.

Bucky wrapped his arms around Tony’s chest. They held each other as gasps settled into slow panting and then as their breaths evened out. Yet once they had, they still didn’t let go.

Tony took Bucky’s face in both his hands and kissed him tenderly. He saw the wetness on Bucky’s cheeks and felt it on his own. “You are in control of you, Bucky.” He kissed him again. “You did not kill my mom,” he said quietly

“How did you know I wouldn’t…” He looked down the space between them at Tony’s chest.

“I just knew,” Tony said, brushing the long, sweat damp strands from Bucky’s face.

“I could’ve killed you.”

“Uh huh.” He paused for another kiss. “So can Peter. But, Bucky, look,” Tony said, rolling onto his side. He took Bucky’s left hand and pressed his fingertips onto his side where he had grabbed him while they were fucking. “Are there any bruises?”

“No, but I didn’t try to hold you hard.”

“Yeah, you did. You didn’t hear it. You were too focused on something else,” he said with an over-confident smile. “But I heard it. I heard you pull it back. The way I can feel Peter doing the same thing.”

“I’ve torn the shit out of beds before. I could’ve hurt you.”

“And Peter breaks headboards and walls and shreds my sheets,” Tony said with a shrug.

“You’re crazy.”

Tony chuckled. “Maybe. I just have a fetish for guys who can break me into little pieces — and don’t.” Definitely a fetish. Definitely a power rush of truly epic proportions.

“You made me come even after I stopped touching myself,” Bucky said smiling.

“He does that,” Peter said, coming into the bedroom. “A lot.”

“You give me too much credit, babe,” Tony said smiling as he noticed that Peter was carrying his clothes instead of wearing them.

“I have a feeling he doesn’t.” Bucky, who was still on his back, more or less in the center of the bed, held his left arm open wide for Peter.

Peter crawled onto the bed and over to where Bucky was and settled in his open arm. Though he pulled part of a pillow under his head. Resting it directly on hard metal wasn’t exactly comfortable.

“God that was hot. I came so hard,” Peter said as he kissed Bucky’s chest. He ran his finger through the mess on his stomach. Looking first at Tony, then up at Bucky, he put his finger in his mouth, sucked it, and smiled.

Tony reached for the towel he kept under the same pillow as the lube. He wiped Bucky’s stomach clean. Both he and Bucky chuckled and shared a glance before turning to accuse Peter. “You were sitting outside the door, jerking off to us,” he said.

“Not through all of it.” He curled up closer to Bucky, tangling their legs together. “I did get my studying done. Fast,” Peter added with a grin. “It was so different only listening. Having to use my imagination to see.” He slid his arm across Bucky’s waist. “Bucky gets to be in the middle tonight. How do you like to sleep? Side, back, stomach?” Peter asked, looking up at him. “We used to sleep spooned,” he began, not saying who the other one of the ‘we’ was. Steve, obviously. “But on my back is more comfortable.” He hesitated. “Body habit.” “On your back then,” Tony said. He’d seen the container tubes in Siberia that Bucky would’ve been put in, to sleep on his back. “Until your body decides on another habit,” he added with another little kiss to Bucky’s shoulder.

He balled up a pillow under his head and stretched out along Bucky’s side. Tony reached across Bucky’s stomach to hold Peter’s hand. Bucky’s right hand slipped up from between his side and Tony’s front, to join them.

[spinblue]

—How I Run My Blog!

if it wasn’t obvious already, I literally cannot shut the fuck up ever. I also never heard of condensing. That is a foreign concept to me.

Speed Basically I’m as slow as Sonic is fast — 

I wish I could do replies faster, but I just can’t? I have literally sat at my computer for hours trying to reply and it just doesn’t happen. I guess I gotta be in a certain mindset to do replies, but heck if I know what kind. awoienaoweawenawe 

I just don’t want to give out shitty replies, and in order for my replies to not be downright awful I gotta work on them a lot aowienaowie it doesn’t come naturally to me at all. 

Replies

I'm all for rping any lengths and mostly I just try to match my rp partner’s lengths, and try to keep in mind what it seems like they are comfortable with. 

Which includes not going over, and I gotta tell you, there have been threads were I have deleted multiple paragraphs of my reply because I realize that not everyone is up for multiparagraphed (borderline novella at times) threads. I just physically do not know how to NOT ramble.

That being said, if I ever do go off in one of our threads — you don’t gotta match lengths. Just give me your best shot and it’ll be fine, I promise. I’m never counting paragraphs here. 

Formatting is very minimal, with usually just one icon per reply. I try to reply more or less in order ( so I try to reply to the threads where I was given the reply first ) but, unfortunately my muse doesn’t work that way all the time, so I do skip around here and there. I apologize if you’ve been waiting for a reply for a long while, I promise it’s not because I don’t want to rp with you, but as I said, I am horrendously slow at all things. 

Starters

I don’t usually post starter calls. I lack the creativity honestly aoweianwe But also I am usually super behind on replies as is so ( though then again, that doesn’t stop me from liking other people’s starter calls and inbox calls bc I am a fool )

I do inbox calls occasionally, though! Usually when I’m lacking muse for anything in my drafts but wanna do something small. These can absolutely turn into threads and can sort of be seeing as a super mini starter? Though they also do not have to turn into anything more than a one-off interaction. Usually I ask if it’s okay to reply to an ask answer before I reply to it. 

Inbox

My inbox is always open! I am horrendously slow at answering asks too though. Gosh I’m a mess. But if you ever do have something you wanna send me, please do! I’ll get to it eventually I promise aowienaowe

I’m forever accepting any and all memes that I reblog! If you wanna interact with me but lack ideas/kinda shy, sending in a sentence prompt meme is probably the best way to start, tbh. 

Though I’m also perfectly okay with unprompted asks being sent! Just send me anything and everything tbh 

I’ll always be open to turning an ask that I answer into a full thread if you want to! 

Selectivity

I’m semi-selective and completely mutuals only. I do wish I could rp with everyone, but as I have said for each of these sections bc it affects literally everything I do — I am horrendously slow. 

I also like to keep my dash clean, so I may not follow back if there are a lot of non-rp related things reblogged. I also usually don’t follow back blogs that have no rules, though sometimes I make exceptions if I know the mun is someone chill. 

If you break my rules, that’s an automatic I’m never going to interact, sorry. It just says to me that either you didn’t bother to read them in the first place, or you did read them but then decided to ignore it. Neither is great honestly. 

Please respect people’s rules. They are there for a reason.

Wishlist ( some of these I have threads for already, but I always want more okay aoweinwe )

I want to do a thread with Sonic signing for most of it, for whatever reason.

Someone calling Sonic out on his bullshit and how he has royally fucked up in IDW. I want someone to actually blame him, resent him, because those were actual, real, people that were all affected just because Sonic wanted to play the ‘good guy’ and believe in the ‘good’ in people despite having every reason to not. 

Sonic actually talking with someone and telling them how much he cares for them. I don’t see him as the mushy-talky kind of guy. He usually likes to speak with actions rather than words — but at the same time words can be powerful. And one day he’ll just have to let his friends know how much they mean to him. 

Basically give me anything with soft. 

I live for supportive Sonic who’s life advice is basically just to go for it. To smile, to run, because you do have the freedom to, you just gotta make use of it. 

I’d like a thread where Sonic can just joke around too?? Like he’d poke fun at someone, be poked fun at back, and just be general little shits together. Just a small silly thread for the fun of it 

A lot more but I have zero memory when I need it

Honest Note

Okay real talk for a sec, but I sit on replies for weeks, and yet I want to always create more threads?? 

There are times where I want to invade people’s dms and talk about ideas and such that I have and that I want to thread. But then I look at my drafts and see that I still owe a reply, and feel too guilty to ask for more aoweinawe 

Also I’m awful at one-on-one conversation. I just??? Don’t have the capability of keeping conversations going aoiwenaewoaieniaw I have no idea how to. So if we have talked and the conversation just fades out on my end, I am so very sorry and i promise it’s not a sign that I don’t want to talk with you. I just fail at human interaction aoweianwewe 

But I do want to get to know everyone that I follow. You all are awesome as heck alright. 

Other than that, know that I adore you all a lot. It’s a lot of fun seeing everyone on dash! Whether you are doing ic stuff, or ooc things. Keep doing what you are doing, because you’re doing great just as you are! 

[smolbeandrabbles]

Cruel Summer - Harold x Reader (Adore)

Author’s Note: So...! I decided to make a convoluted plot even MORE convoluted! And also bring back one of my favourite ideas with Phil, only make it a real affair this time 

He deserves some love - because honestly, he’s a super sweet cinnamon roll 💜💙

Disclaimer: Adore characters / plot not mine but sometimes you do have to ask yourself questions, right? / Aha-! Look another song from ‘Lover’

* If you’ve seen the movie then I’ve changed some plot points around... 

Premise: You’d been yearning for him for a long time... And this summer presents you with only your wildest dreams. Perhaps you both shouldn’t, but they deserve it...

Words: 3015

Warnings: Student/Teacher affair / Affairs in general / swearing / Sexual connotations

A/N: So... I tried to edit this on mobile and basically it deletes everything! So all that info you just read had to be re-written and I can’t remember what I said. So apologies you gotta put up with this second version instead! 😑 _______ Fever dream high In the quiet of the night You know that I caught it Killing me slow, out the window I'm always waiting for you to be waiting below Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes What doesn't kill me makes me want you more And it's new, the shape of your body, It's blue, the feeling I've got And it's a cruel summer It's cool, that's what I tell 'em, No rules, in breakable heaven but It's a cruel summer With you Said "I'm fine", but it wasn't true I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you And I snuck in through the garden gate Every night that summer just to seal my fate And I screamed for whatever it's worth I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard? ---

It was never supposed to be like this. But it was. An elaborate game within a game. An affair for the sake of having one?? 

He was the hot teacher you always got to fantasise about in the back of class, and that was all fine, in your head. But after semester you got to return home... and started dating his son. And you weren’t sure if you weren’t doing that because of him...

But the longer this relationship lasted, your fantasy began to calm down. You were nearly sure it was dying away, because Tom was sweet and you liked being with him. And you could look at Harold and smile and talk to him and not feel your heart beat stutter or… heat build in a way that made you bite your lip hard and tap your pen against your notebook so loud your friends often grabbed your hand to stop you… Tom made you feel like you were living that late teenage summer romance you were supposed to be in. Like you finally belonged in something with someone….

 Until that all came crashing down. And Harold had been the one to find that out and come to you. He didn’t have to; but felt it was his responsibility. You were both being cheated on. But he was at a loss for what to do next. Straight divorce and back to Sydney? Your parents still lived here, there was less escape for you when it wasn’t term time... and you didn’t really want to leave them just yet. You were also confused as to why he would sit across from you and talk about this so late at night – seeking advice about something so complex from someone so young? You wondered if he might be thinking the same thing you were – or if that was because suddenly all those feelings came rushing back to you – like Tom was just a temporary distraction from the real thing. And this time they would show you no mercy.

It had been a small, not entirely innocent suggestion, if your respective significant others were having affairs - why not start one yourselves? At first that notion had horrified him - heck you were his student. Of course it would. And he was still a married man - you’d scoff at that because it clearly didn’t stop his wife. But once it was out there you couldn’t go back either; because if he rejected you you’d still have to sit in his classes all year. Added to that - in Sydney you were far away from both his family and yours. And you wondered if that was the factor to tip it. He could have you here and there. And in Sydney, away from campus it wouldn’t have to be one big secret. That escape across the country held the tantalizing prospect of sinful freedom. If Harold stayed faithful, like the kind of man he seemed like he was, then when he was in Sydney, he had no one. And when he was here... well, did he even have a wife anymore?

**

So, fantasy became reality. And it felt like the biggest immorality ever committed; but also the greatest decision you’d ever made. At every twist and turn it was who was going to catch you out? Your families? The faculty? Your friends? Soon enough the family part stopped being a care, because it’s not like anyone in his had a leg to stand on. And you started realising that Tom was a cover... and an excuse. If your parents asked, you could simply say you were spending time with him – you doubted they would mind, or get the idea to interrogate him. They got it; you were young, they did that kind of thing all the time at their age. Alas, if you were actually doing any of this with Tom… You would spend the day with your ‘boyfriend’ pretending everything was fine (both of you living the sham that this was still real; but also believing the other was none the wiser) and then in the evenings both of you would sneak off and slip into your other lives.

It made dinner at their house interesting. If people could read thoughts... If everyone sitting here had to be honest just once… Well, everyone around that table was cheating on someone with someone else - it just so happened that two of you around the table were together. And when Ian and Lil sometimes came around too and all 6 of you were there. Wow... Only then it was strange, because Harold would act like a husband again, and Tom like a good boyfriend. And with arms all around the right people you knew it was likely the entire table was jealous.

 Still. There was that one evening Tom went off for a walk, and Ros followed suit... leaving you two at the table semi-awkwardly. There was a good 5 minutes silence before anyone decided it was safe to speak. “If they had any idea.” You leant across the table, a quizzical expression on your face – they would have to walk to their own affairs. Yours was sitting right here. And you wondered how they didn’t think they were making things obvious. Or was that only because you knew. “Maybe they do and that’s why they left?” “How long do we have...?” You almost didn’t dare breathe the sentence for fear of footfalls back on those stairs. He gave a shrug “I wouldn’t expect Tom to be back until the morning... I still wouldn’t suggest the house... but the venue is up to you... Darling...” You rose from your chair and rounded him, small smirk on your face as you ran your fingers up his arm; savouring the gentle shiver you could feel over his skin, you bent low to whisper your choice – making sure your lips grazed his cheek before you stood and left… It was barely a mile, and minutes if he drove you… Harold could have you home and be back before either of them – nobody any the wiser…

What scared you a little about it was you’d never done this with Tom before... or anyone. And now you were here doing this you didn’t want anyone else... But it wasn’t supposed to last, there was no agreement. The arrangement was just a bit of fun to get even. No strings. No falling in love.

That was a stupid promise to make... How could you not completely fall for him? It was hard to think of anything else every moment you weren’t with him – it was hard to think of a time you’d ever wanted anyone so badly as you wanted him. It was even harder to imagine that anyone else would take care of you the way he did; maybe that was because he was so much older. That his son was your age… You weren’t sure. And you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. But at the end of the day (or in fact any part of the day where it was possible) there was no way you could feel as good as the feeling of being tangled up with him like this. There was a certain elation in something so sinful – but how could something that felt so good, and so right, be so wrong? What if it wasn’t? What if the universe was simply course correcting… How you would sigh like that against his lips at the feel of him inside you; how he fit just perfect. That couldn’t have been wrong, this couldn’t have been a mistake. Somehow everything had been twisted and messed up to lead to this moment in time. And maybe that’s where everyone was supposed to be. Except it made no sense… How could you have all supposed to have been liars and cheaters… and whatever the heck a bunch of teens-turning-twenty-somethings in relationships with adults twice their age were? What was wrong with all of you!? Trouble was you’d tried to have a long hard look at yourself in the mirror. And you’d thought about stopping it. But why should Tom be allowed to get away with it? Often Harold would look at you and open his mouth and you thought he would say it; he seemed like he’d be the one to end it. When too far was really too far. But maybe no one could turn back now… You spent all of that long hot summer stealing everything; all those glances back to the house from the beach, where you could just about make him out checking you were all safe down here as tide came up. When Tom would kiss the salt from your shoulders and you wished it was Harold instead. Every spare moment of just ‘running into him’ when you knew Ros was at work and the boys were out surfing again, how you would just take walks with him that just bordered appropriate with the way your arms brushed – and when anyone would pass you’d talk overly loud about what you were hoping from for the next semester. How when it was clear no one would be around your fingers would link and you would bite your lips together and look away from him so he wouldn’t see how much he made you blush. That would make you too much like a kid… How you could steal so much more than that if you were just careful enough, you could all be in the same house and you could still get away with kissing him – that was the ultimate in risky and tactical – and you wondered if you both lived for the rush of that. How sometimes Harold would do things you would expect of the father of your boyfriend – like sometimes he’d put his arm around you, or hug you close and kiss your cheek as you left. And everyone else would see something appropriate. Oh no, not at all… There was never anything quick about the physical intimacy though. No 5 minutes here or there or in the back of a car… oh no. This was tactile, and you couldn’t count the number of times you’d woken up in his arms in a hotel room. Won’t they be worried? …Are you kidding? You think they’ll notice? What do you tell your parents? …I’m with Tom. …Hah… How many times one of you would sneak around the back of the others house – your parents had held a party and invited Tom’s family. Big mistake, your garden was secluded and couldn’t be seen from the house. You’d grown up here all your life, so you didn’t even need to worry about the glance back when he wandered down after you – just drag him to you by his belt and undo it – claiming his lips for your own and trying to ignore that gold band on his finger as he ran his hands over you and tangled them in your hair. And when you both arrived back at the party 30 minutes later and apparently no one noticed, that’s when you knew you were gonna get away with this. He watched you when you wended your way to their house from the coast with Tom, all the way back, and when Tom was preoccupied with carrying his board or talking to Ian you let your eyes linger on him too. And the way you would use that outdoor shower they had like you were on some kind of photoshoot; and you knew that every one of those glances that you sent his way were teasing; each one more than the next…. How he’d light his cigarette and take long slow drags, and you would move your hands over your body and sift them through your hair as the water cascaded over you. How you bit your lip and both of you were caught in a stare that meant the other couldn’t look away. And sometimes Harold forgot what buttons were and the breeze from the sea would catch his shirt – and you couldn’t help but try and keep your vocalizations quiet as that throb of desire did more than just run through your body. It screamed at you to run up there and undo the rest of those buttons for yourself. His little smirk told you he knew you were mentally undressing him, so you closed your eyes and pushed yourself back against the wall – and all you could see was Harold all over you and wish he really was. And that was a mental image that stayed with both of you, because when you opened your eyes again he was gone… and when you got home the first thing you did was turn your shower on again to finish that fantasy for yourself… And later that day you got to relive it all over again… ***

Eventually, the tension snapped - and you and Tom has a screaming match so loud the whole town probably heard it; “I’m in love with someone else-!” “Well it doesn’t even f**king matter-! I am too-!” “Yeah-! I f**king KNOW!!!” That hit hard, you could tell and Tom wanted to know how and when and then who... who was with you because he was with someone else?! But you walked away. Because you couldn’t even stand to look at the man you should be loving, when it was his father you really wanted. Not that Tom apparently wanted you anyway.

 So for a few days you stayed at home. And your parents knew it was all about the breakup... As if this relationship had been all that real to begin with. And you were wallowing in your own self-pity and misery, and kicking yourself for almost not feeling how you were supposed to feel. You should be disgusted at yourself for what you were doing, you should have hated him for admitting he loved someone else. You should have been crying over the way you’d yelled at each other.  Instead you were worried you didn’t have cover enough anymore to see Him. Trying to think of ways you could make up with Tom to have cover, that both of you could fake this relationship to be with who you wanted to be with. But he would ask who; and you got the feeling that hypocritically he wouldn’t like you cheating anyway. That bridge was burned. Why bother going to the house if you didn’t have a boyfriend there anymore? why be involved at all... Well, apart from Harold being your teacher... That should have been reason enough to stop though; and you had college email – and those questions should really be left to the semester itself. Using that as an excuse to knock on his door was weak at best; and it was starting to look like the only one you might have. But you craved him; you wanted his touch all over your skin. And when you weren’t lamenting about how you’d ruined your cover – you were locked in your room and creating that sensation for yourself. It was hardly the same though… And one evening you lay wide awake, staring at your ceiling. When even your music couldn’t send you into a bout of weird dreams, you came to a sickening realisation that had you sitting bolt upright to reach for your phone and dial a number you didn’t have. This was supposed to be no strings attached payback. It didn’t matter to either of you when and how it ended. But, it was no longer just an affair.

**

You summed up enough courage to do something even stupider than just reveal everything in a fight. And although you had left your house fine with a deep breath, your vision was blurring by the time you got to their house and tears were running down your face as you ascended the steps. It was too much, and it took you a great effort to reach that last step - by that time you were trying to catch your breath from your sobs and your chest hurt. Nothing worked, and it was getting hard to swallow the lump in your throat too.

Which means you must have looked a mess. You didn’t know who was in, but you could hear Tom and Ian calling to each other down on the beach, so you wouldn’t have to face your now ex. What the hell you were supposed to do if you stumbled into Ros you didn’t know. You hoped beyond hope that was a bridge you would never have to cross in such a state as this.

You padded towards the open door way, just trying to calm yourself down a little.

You didn’t even manage to make it all the way before Harold met you, curse your loud crying. Curse everything in the world right now, you wanted to run to him and hold him and have him run his hands through your hair as you cried, but you knew that wasn’t possible. So you stood on his balcony crying as he watched you with heartbreaking concern. “Sweetheart, Tom isn’t here...” You shook your head violently “I’m not here for Tom...” “Oh...?” He stepped out but you took a step back, you took as deep a breath as you could manage but the tears still ran. “Why are you here Y/N... what’s wrong...” There was fear in your eyes, fear that heightened the same response as him. Because there was honestly mixed too that he knew was about to hit hard Your voice waivered, and you knew how weak and pathetic you sounded, but you had no choice – your body, your heart, your minded compelled you; “I need to tell you something.” “What is it, darling...?” He took another step that you didn’t concede, and he watched fresh droplets rolled down your face. You held your nerve, and his gaze. You couldn’t take hiding this... And knew you were about to tear everything else apart.

“I love you.”

---

@dennismitchell @happyskywhale @wltz-bby​

#MendoTagSquad.

[spnfanficpond]

October 2019 Pond LiveChat Recap

We had a great time chatting with @evansrogerskitten tonight! Thank you so much for joining us and sharing your wisdom!

Today, we got together and talked about writing smut! We discussed the legalities around sharing smut on the internet, vocabulary choices, created a spreadsheet of terms we can all share and use, and encouraged each other to not be afraid to just write. A rundown of the chat, as well as general Pond news, is below the cut. Due to the nature of the chat, there may be some parts of this recap that might be considered NSFW. 

To start us off, @mrswhozeewhatsiswrites shared some research into the legalities of posting erotica on the internet as it relates to minors. (We are not legal experts. This information was obtained through Google searches. If anyone can provide links to sources that contradict these, we will add them to this post to ensure the most correct information is provided here.)

Michelle: To try and keep it short and sweet, from everything I read, if a minor reads smut online, it's not the writer's, poster's, or web site's responsibility to keep it from them. It is the parent's, or the school's/library's responsibility. (Basically, whoever is providing the internet connection to the minor is responsible for filtering out content that might be harmful to that minor, not the parties creating or disseminating that content online.) Schools and libraries and other institutions that get government funds are usually required to have some sort of filter in place to prevent minors from accessing porn and erotica. 

What makes this so difficult to research is that written erotica is not mentioned very often in obscenity laws. Most laws focus on images or videos, not the written word. 

No matter what it is, though, to be prosecuted under obscenity laws, the material must first be ruled to be obscene. Legally, there is a difference between obscenity and erotica. Obscenity is generally illegal, and erotica is protected speech. There are many different sets of rules and guidelines that have been used to determine if something is considered obscene or not. The most widely used current set of guidelines is the Miller test. From my research, most (if not all) erotic fan fiction would not be considered obscene because of its ‘literary, artistic, political, or scientific value’.

Some interesting links in relation to this subject that go into detail:

Wikipedia - US Obscenity Law - About halfway down, there is a section on non image-based obscenity cases in the US. The first part of this section, which deals with the written word, is very enlightening about the differences between obscenity and erotica. Further down is a section about criticism of the laws which shows some of the gaps in the law where free speech lives. Continuing on, the section about censorship in schools and libraries explains the part CIPA (Children’s Internet Protection Act) plays in protecting minors from material that could be considered harmful to them.

Online Art Rights - Sexual Content - This site details the many attempts at limiting indecent material on the internet through the years. (Scroll down and click on the plus signs in the black bars to expand each section.) In each case cited, the court ruled that to ban all objectionable material would interfere with free speech because it would reduce all content to a level appropriate for children. They also concluded that since less restrictive means exist, such as user-controlled filters and the like, those tools can be used without reducing all discourse on the internet. The section on Child Pornography at the bottom might be of interest to anyone who writes Weecest smut, though.

The only possible exception that I think would affect the SPN fandom would be those who write Weecest smut. Child pornography seems to be the exception to every rule that protects free speech. Where every other depiction of a sex act might have a ‘but’ that makes it erotica (and therefore legal) instead of obscenity, child pornography in any medium is considered obscenity. Anything that even just looks like child porn is considered child porn, even if no children were a part of the making of it. This includes cartoons and CGI and adults made up to look like kids. If it’s advertised as children in a sexual situation, it’s child porn. So, I imagine it could extend to written erotica IF someone were to decide to push it.

Now, that’s a huge if. Someone would have to read it, object to it, and insist on prosecution for it. I think if that were going to happen, given 15 years of SPN fan fiction, it would have happened by now. But I would still keep my Weecest smut-free, or implied, or at least over the age of consent (which varies, so 18 is just easiest to use). 

Also, AO3 complies with the laws regarding filtering for minors. If you do not have an account, you are required to click through a step that tells you that you are about to view something explicit. That's really all that sites and such are required to do. Hence, Tumblr making you click through and view on dash blogs they mark as explicit.

@emilyshurley I think there might also be a sorta solution just to play it safe. I saw that people who make mods for games like Sims 4 and stuff have a page for terms of download. What that is is that if you click their masterlist it will take you to a post where they list their conditions and have the words "I agree" and link the actual masterlist to that. Now this might take a little effort but we could add something similar before our masterlists.

This is all legal stuff, not site-specific rules. Each site can implement their own decency rules and enforce them how they see fit. For example, Tumblr, as a company, can decide to delete your blog. (They’ve stopped doing this since The Purge, now just marking each blog explicit and making you click on a couple things to get to those blogs they deem explicit.) Should they choose to do this, it does not mean that you’re in trouble with the law.

Now, onto the fun stuff!

Q: What is the first thing you think of when someone asks you for advice about writing smut?

Ash: Word choice- don't make the reader cringe. It's easy to fall into that because smut can be graceful and tasteful if it's done right. And that starts with thinking through word choice and how the scene is flowing. It's not easy to write smut! I think a lot of non-writer readers do not realize that.

Note: During the chat, we created a Google Sheets spreadsheet, with two sheets in it, with lists of words to use to refer to different things when you’re writing smut. The first sheet is Good Words, and the second sheet is Bad Words. Everyone can enter words they like and don’t like on both sheets, and we’ll crowd-source this problem! Check it out and add your favorites!

Michelle: A smut scene takes ten times as long for me to write as anything else. Just keeping track of limbs is difficult! And clothing....sometimes, I just make them dry hump so I don't have to deal with removing all the clothing! Other times, it's just, "Somehow, you suddenly found yourself naked." Like, there's a million great ways to get characters naked, but if I'm tired, angels snap.

@fictionalabyss (Mel): I've read stuff where a position makes no sense and it ruins the whole thing for me. Michelle: I actually bought a couple of those posable dolls from IKEA. (IKEA - GESTALTA, Artist’s figure)  @babypieandwhiskey (Cam): I’ll have to use my daughter’s old Barbie dolls! I can keep track of both limbs and clothing!

Q: Ash, what are a few of the words that turn you off when you're reading smut?

Ash: It's usually words that sound so "romance novel"-ish to me. So "turgid member" is a good example. Please no one ever write that. Mel: Sometimes, keeping it simple is the safest and best bet. Ash: Absolutely, Mel! Sometimes we don't need all the extra words if we're showing the heat that's already there between them. 

[What followed was a long discussion of various terms you definitely should not use in serious smut. They’ve all been added to the spreadsheet linked above, so fee free to check it out.]

Michelle: EVERYONE has those words that squick them, and it's damn near impossible to write a smut scene that doesn't include a word that will squick someone out there. So, don't stress about what words you do or don't use, cuz there's always gonna be someone out there who doesn't like something. Just make sure YOU think what you're writing is hot. If you don't get warm under the collar from it, no one else will, either. Ash: I highly recommend everyone is reading their fics out loud to see how it all flows. You'll catch errors and weird words there too.

Q: Ash, how do you get in the frame of mind to write something you personally have never experienced? For example, certain kinks.

Ash: Whiskey? LOL No, I do a lot of research- google, porn, erotica. Trying something out in person helps too! But we're writing fiction. You can make a kink work for your scenario too.I mean, I've written a reader squirting after 5 minutes to move things along but we all know it takes longer usually. And that's the fun! I've never actually been with 2 dudes but I f-ing love writing it. @atc74 (Angelina): I've always said I don't need to kill someone to write a murder scene. Ash: Smut is all about having an open mind. It lets us and the readers be someone else. 

Question submitted earlier by @erins-culinary-service: I've wanted to try writing smut but never known exactly how to start and what words to use to describe everything. I've had sex so I know the sensations, positions, etc I'm just not sure how to write it all down any advice?

Ash: So sometimes I can't just start from "they kissed..." I start wherever I can see it best. So is it oral sex, or already doing it, I just jump in. And then I come back and fill it in. And I just write, no stopping once I get going. So the "cock into her hole" can be fixed later on my next edit. I just gotta get the idea out and then go back and make it hot. My smut is never hot in my first draft.  Michelle: I think that's what stops a lot of writers, is thinking they have to publish their first draft. Editing is totally a thing. Just get the ideas on paper, and then make them hot later. Ash: Oh yeah, I go through at least 3 drafts per fic. Plus my beta version. Yeah, no one is ever going to see your drafts so don't worry about starting somewhere, anywhere.  Michelle: And remember, practice practice practice - As with any writing, the more you write it, the easier it becomes. I wrote Third Wheel as a way to challenge myself with writing smut. Do a kink bingo or alphabet challenge. Just remember, you’re gonna write crap at the start, but crap makes good compost. Ash: Taking some time between edits is important too. It'll help you see different ways, AND you'll start having breakthroughs during the time away. Bingos are a great challenge that will help a writer grow.  Cam: Writing smut is like sex, you're first time is going to be awkward and things won't be perfect, but with practice it gets better. Mel: I have a series that shows even the millionth time having sex isn't perfect and can be all laughs 🤣. But yeah.

Question submitted earlier by @focusonspn: i wanted to know about ways and words to describe orgasms and how to approach the moment after it without being awkward or forced. some people say those are the easiest things to write, but somehow i always have a hard moment trying to write them.

Ash: Hmmmm, as for the moments after- that's understandable, it is hard because its a transition. I think it's doesn't have to be an extended part of it- unless they're about to have a talk or aftercare needs a scene, it can be as simple as "we drifted off to sleep." Michelle: As always, my advice is to read smut that other people write that you like, and take note of what they do. Mel: Someone can get up and get dressed and leave. They can play in the fluids. They can lay there catching their breaths for a moment. It can be simple. Sometimes it doesn't need a flourish and that flourish can make it seem forced. Michelle: I think it depends on what type of smut fic you're writing. Is it fluffy smut where they're all in LOVE and kissy and stuff? Or is it Soulless Sam and Demon Dean just getting down and dirty and claiming you for themselves? Or, Soulless Sam or Demon Dean just getting their rocks off and they don't give a shit? @emilyshurley (Emily): Also this might be my f*cked up brain but I think if someone is not comfortable with a lot of fluffy buildup to smut trying soulless!Sam or Demon!Dean could be a great start. You also have a little room to do a little out of character.  Michelle: We are blessed with a world that includes all types of characters and all types of situations, from curses (sex pollen, love potions, etc) to supernatural beings, to inspire and give us chances to write all kinds of smut. There are no limits to what you can do in Supernatural, so there are no limits to what we can write.  Ash: Yeah we can really make most kinks work in some way in the SPN worlds.  Emily: Also again with going out of character I read a captain America fic where it could have been a little out of character how he jumped straight to sex (someone commented that) but sex pollen made it work. So basically these tropes/kinks can also be good devices for writing NSFW fics to if you struggle to get the characters write in the beginning.

Other links mentioned:

Emily: I saw this advice list on Tumblr, so thought I should share it: List of Smut Writing Guides

Ash: This one, too: @smut-101′s Smut Tips Masterlist 

And last, but definitely not least...

Ash: Always, always, always write for you. Readers come and go but you have to be satisfied and proud of what you've written. And everyone should get so much credit for trying to write smut. It's difficult but its does get easier and more fun with practice!

General Pond Updates and Reminders

What we’ve got cooking up next: Not much, at the moment, since everyone is busy, so we’re just trying to keep up with the day-to-day at the moment! Our to do list is still long, though, and will not be neglected forever!

Reminders:

Angel Fish Award nominations are accepted all month long! No need to wait to tell us how much you liked a fellow Fish’s work!  IF YOU HAVE SENT IN A NOMINATION, BUT HAVE NOT RECEIVED A PRIVATE MESSAGE CONFIRMING WE RECEIVED IT, WE DIDN’T GET IT. Be sure to use Submit instead of Ask!

Don’t forget to submit your stories to be posted to the blog! When your stories are on the blog, then they are easier to nominate for Angel Fish Awards!

Say hi to September’s New Members!

Check the Pond CALENDAR to see when Big Fish will be in the Skype chat room/discord general channel and other Pond and SPN events are happening! Know of something that’s not on the calendar, send us an ask or submission with the deets info details!  The calendar offers a lot of features, such as showing you when things are in your own timezone! Since we’re an international group, that’s a definite plus!!

We don’t have a topic or speaker set up for November’s event, yet, so if there’s something you want to talk about, or someone you want to talk to, LET US KNOW!

[evohealed]

◀ LITTLE TALKS ▶

(( here’s an old mini fic i thought i should post. rex goes to the rebooted zagrs because it has his mother’s voice, and it’s … comforting, in a strange way. it’s the closest confidant he has. enjoy – it’s under the cut. I may write more like this in the future. ))

Rex doesn’t know what to do. He’s feeling so pushed over the edge, and off his shit’s that he doesn’t have a single coherent thought running through his mind, and he’s really, really fucked up. He’s bloody and broken, and even though Providence tried their best to patch him up and his nanites usually helped him heal faster … not everything could go away in an instant. He’ll be fine soon enough, he’s just … scared, and so alone. They wouldn’t even let him leave the building to get some fresh air after the horrific EVO attack he’d just had to deal with occurred – something had totally let some from the petting zoo’s isolation chamber free, and, well … he doesn’t wanna talk about the injuries he sustained from it. He’s got his phone out, and through tear-glazed eyes and a shaky hand, he types out a message to Noah. But … he just can’t find it in him to hit send.

He’s typed, retyped, deleted, typed, retyped, deleted, typed, retyped, deleted … but no matter how many times he does this, no matter how much he wash, rinse, and repeats, he just can’t send it to Noah. Wouldn’t he come off like a total baby? Doesn’t he have better stuff to deal with? Wouldn’t he just be wasting Noah’s time? There’s nothing on his mind but Noah, and how Noah could make him feel better, and how he wants to just hear him … so, while he’s totally out of it, the thumb that’d been hovering nervously over the call button presses down. It’s barely even ringing before Noah picks up, and he’s saying hey, and asking him what’s up. But when Rex doesn’t immediately respond, and all you can hear is him clearly sniffling like he’s gonna cry, Noah starts to ask what’s wrong.

He doesn’t really answer, and it’s not til Noah’s trying to beg him to talk because he can hear Rex crying ( which must be … alarming, because he knows Noah’s never seen or heard him cry before, and he’d always wanted to keep it that way ) that he really realizes Noah’s on the other end. Oh, god he’d heard him sobbing.  He can’t bring himself to say anything but a quick somewhat muddled sorry and hangs up the phone, trying to keep back his sobs until he can stop fumbling with his phone enough to hang up, and … when Noah calls back, he just rejects it. He can’t stand rejecting his phone over and over again, and he just wants it to stop. Why did he do that? That was so stupid of him! Sure, he wants Noah around more than anything right now, and he really, really wants to be consoled by his blonde friend, but … he feels too guilty for making Noah worried.

He feels guilty for showing any kind of feelings when he KNOWS better than to do that. He’s just a weapon, he shouldn’t be burdening anyone else with his issues! There’s nobody he should even be talking to about this. So it’s with a bitter sniffle that he turns off his phone to avoid the calls and texts from Noah, and just … sits there, alone in his dark room, alone with his thoughts, and suffers silently. Nothing new to the tall teen, unfortunately – it’s what Providence has ingrained into him, after all.

Honestly … what was he thinking? He couldn’t even go and see Noah, and Noah wouldn’t want to see him like this anyways .. not when Providence was scolding him for how much of a baby he was being, and how he should have done better in handling the attack than he did.  They expected him to heal fast, because he usually heals fast, but he’s really fucked up, and he just… can’t! He’s injured way too much and the injuries are way too extensive to even let him function right for a few days, and sure, Providence had great pain meds and medical access, but nothing the med-bay could offer could stop this … painful feeling he had all over his body. There’s no scars or anything ( okay, well. no BAD ones ) but some things were DEFINITELY  broken, and .. well. They hadn’t been treated ASAP, so it’s no wonder that everything in his body hurt so fucking badly.

And on top of this all, he’s got a distinct sense of being a burden, and he just knows it has to be true. If it wasn’t true, then … why would they be treating him like this? He knows he should have been better, he knows he should’ve fought better, he knows he shouldn’t have called Noah no matter HOW distressed he got … and yet he did. So … where was he gonna go? What was he gonna do about this? He doesn’t know, so he’s curled up on his bed and looking like a kicked puppy. He buries his face in his knees, just staying in a ball, and … that’s how he stays, for hours on end. He’s sure he’s fallen asleep and cried himself out at one point, because suddenly, he’s waking up, and … Bobo is already asleep. All the lights in Providence are turned off ( well, except the night light rotations .. those are dimmer lights turned on by nine PM so people can sleep here ) and .. well, if those are on, then there’s a good chance that means Cesar is out of his lab. Or, at the very least, asleep – that man sleeps like a rock, so if he was in there, and was still asleep? It wouldn’t matter, he wouldn’t wake him up. So,

Rex, still feeling miserable as ever, decided to get himself up and out of there. He needs something to talk to, something like a parental figure to tell him everything will be okay – but Holiday had already gone to bed for the night, and he’s not about to wake her up. And .. Six was. Six. He wasn’t a very good dad figure at all. And he hated being woken up for anything pertaining to emotions … says he should just get over them. Okay … what does he do, then? Well … he’s decided in an instant, something that just clicks and makes him feel absolutely at peace.

He’s going to talk to ZAGrs.

Honestly, Rex couldn’t say he’d expected the revelation that ZAGrs used his mother’s voice, but … it made a whole lot of sense. The voice, it’d sounded so … eerily familiar from the get go, and now Rex knows why. Cesar had managed to kill her self-aware programming and reboot her since the last time they’d dealt with her, and … well, while Rex certainly felt silly he hadn’t even recognized his own mother’s voice, everything made so much more sense. Now, he knows that it’s not really his mom talking to him, and that she’s not really self aware anymore, but … it’s as close as he’s gonna get to his mom. I mean, it has her voice, doesn’t it?

So … it might as well be the same thing as talking to his real mom. He doesn’t think he’s weird for what he’s about to do with this information and thought process, but he wants someone to speak to, and ZAGrs is as close as he can get to having a parental figure at the moment. ( it’s wack logic, but he’s going to choose to run with it anyways. ) Slowly peeking his head through the door, he checks around for any signs of Cesar in the room. He sees his brother passed out at his desk, drooling everywhere over his papers ( gross, he thinks, but mood ) and the computer turned off. He slips into the room as quietly as he can, if he feels like he can barely move without causing a mess through the room ( seriously, he’s bumping into everything… he really shouldn’t be walking ). And, once he’s in, he takes another look around ( yup, Cesar’s still asleep ) before he puts his hand to the monitor and turns it on with his nanite abilities. ZAGrs ( or  … er, computer? isn’t that just what she’s called now? ) is alive and well and functioning, and it greets him.

“Hello, REX. SALAZAR. What is your query?” 

Rex, miserable as he is, tenses up, and then … relaxes. He has to remind himself that he’s not gonna be killed by this thing anymore, it can’t try to murder him or genocide all the world’s Nanites … so, he decides to finally try and speak. “Um … Computer, can I … talk to you?”

“Of course you can talk to me, REX. I have many commands you can execute.”

“… Right, um .. I actually wanted to talk to you about .. my feelings. Is that .. okay?” He sheepishly rubs his neck, offering a little forced grin. Wow, okay, he feels like a fool for doing this, and that motion alone hurts to do, but .. he’s still gonna keep it up. So, with a deep breath, a side glance, and pulling a spare chair out, he sits down, and asks his question.

“Computer … Have you … ever felt like you don’t actually matter much?”

“QUERY not recognized.” 

“I mean, it’s just … I know I’m not totally worthless, but … it’s hard not to feel that way when you’re someone like me.”

“Your body will likely have value on the black market, if that is what you are inquiring.” “What’s a black market? I don’t – you know what? Whatever, okay. Um.. I just – I’ll just talk about what I came here to. Just .. listen, okay?”

“OK.”

“Okay, w-well .. god, everything hurts, for starters.” He complains, melting into the seat he’s found and leaning back. He lets a pause hang in the air before he continues, only the sounds of the computer’s whirring filling the background, and then he breathes in deeply. He’s just gotta … take a second to breathe. His body still aches, and his head and thoughts are still foggy and he’s still very sleepy, but … he’s gonna continue anyways. “But … really, um .. I’m …” He struggles to find his words, and for a second he really does believe all is lost, and then, all at once, the words start pouring out.

“I … messed up. I know I’m supposed to be a machine. I’m supposed to be a good weapon, a-and I’m supposed to not feel anything. But .. sometimes, the stress can get to me, you know? I don’t know, I know I should be keeping my biometrics up, but … I d-don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. I mean, I wanna help people, and I w-wanna help save the earth and stop EVOs from hurting each other, and cure everyone I can, but … b-but I’m not .. good enough! I can’t be a good weapon, but I’m n-not even a normal person, either. And if I’m not a good w-weapon, and I’m useless as a human, then … who am I? What am I? It’s not – I just don’t understand. I know Providence tells me – that Six tells me – that I’m not s'pposed to have emotions, I’m not supposed to get upset like this, and I should just focus on doing m-my job … but I can’t help feeling like I’m a failure because … I am feeling! I have emotions! No matter w-what I try, I just can’t get rid of them! I’m trying my hardest not to, but they’re here, and they’re… I can’t just ignore them!”

He forces himself to pause – he’s back to silently sobbing again, trying his damndest to keep his tears as quiet and hidden as he could. It’s … the first time he can remember crying in a long time – he can usually shove it all down, but now it’s all bubbling to the top. This whole situation just sucks, he just wants to be a normal kid, but Providence wants him to be a pure weapon! Why does he have to have emotions if he was meant to be a weapon? If he has emotions, why is he a weapon? Weapons shouldn’t feel, and humans shouldn’t be able to do … this! “… People tell me I’m a freak. Everyone at Providence is always yelling at me that I’m a weapon, everyone I try to help tells me I’m a freak. I’m getting mixed signals and I – I don’t know what to make of it. I just want to be normal, I wanna be able to talk m-my emotions out, but … But who would I even talk to? Bobo?” He lets out a bitter laugh before continuing, his voice little more than a whisper as he talks to himself.

“I love him, but … He doesn’t take that stuff seriously, he’s not an emotions guy. A-and Holiday can only afford to waste so much time on me, plus I don’t wanna look LAME  for her. Six is outta the question, he says I shouldn’t even have emotions. A-and … Noah, he’s … I know he says I can talk to him, but I know I don’t do anything but stress him out. I don’t w-want to ruin anything by telling him everything I’m upset about, I’m probably just being a baby about it. I just –” he pauses, and then … when he sees his brother finally stirring, his words speed up.

“I’m t-tired of being hurt. I don’t w-want to be, but … it feels like nobody cares if I get hurt. ‘Cept maybe Holiday. I heal quickly anyways, m-my nanites will fix it … and if anyone even notices, obviously they don’t care. It’s always about gettin’ back to work as soon as I can. I just wanna... I wanna feel appreciated, I--” He hiccupped again, taking a moment to calm down his sobbing and letting the tears all run out, and then … A pause. He was totally silent for a good few minutes. He gets an idea. It’s not really his mom, but again, it’s … close, right? Maybe hearing her say this would help him feel better.

“Computer … ?”

“Yes, REX?”

He’s cautious as he speaks his next words, “Can you .. say, ‘Rex, I love you’?”

“REX, I love you.”

And that … robotic as it may be, as aware as he is that it’s not really his mom, and that it’s not really anyone real.. it placates him greatly. It’s enough to get him to stop his crying entirely, and it’s not long before he’s taking deep breaths to calm himself down. When he’s finally not crying anymore, he wipes at his eyes with the heel of his palms, and he smiles.

“.. Thank you, Computer.”

“You’re welcome, REX.”

He uses his nanite powers to shut off the computer, and with that, he leaves the room. And, hell, he’s still in immense pain, but honestly? He’s cried himself beyond the point of caring. He simply walks out of the room, and starts to head back to his. His hands are in his pockets, and he looks like absolute shit because of how tired he is and how sleepy that crying made him, so he just kind of planned to go to bed, so he made a beeline for his room. However, just inches away from the door, he heard his name be called out – and he looked around, confused, but saw Noah standing in the hall. Why was his crush friend here?

He doesn’t know, but before he can even say a single word, Noah’s charging at him and tackling him in a hug. He’s surprisingly got enough force to tackle him to the ground – if only probably because Rex was in such horrible shape, and he was clearly beaten up pretty bad, so he winces hardcore when he hits the ground. But Noah’s still clinging on his midriff, saying that he scared him, and clearly, he’s been crying – asking what’s wrong, and why did he hang up? Was he mad? Rex just kind of forced an awkward chuckle as he threaded his fingers through Noah’s hair, and then sighed. “It’s … nothing. I’m fine.” He says, unconvincingly. Noah’s trying to ask something, but Rex just waves it off, smile growing strained.

“Dude, I promise, I’ll be fine. Now, did you … bike all the way here? At like … eleven pm?” A pause, and a very red-faced Noah nods, and then … Rex laughs. He can’t believe the blonde did that, all for him! He feels a little bad about it, but he still ushers Noah into his room, and then … the night isn’t so shitty after that. Noah really helps, but knowing he could talk to Computer and that it couldn’t wouldn’t judge helped even more.

Maybe everything will be fine after all.

[batbirdies]

NaNoWriMo 2019 Batfam fic

So, apologies to anyone who already reblogged or liked this post because I Accidentally DELETED like a MORON. 

I’m posting rough excerpts from my NaNo project this year which is a fanfic centered around Jason Todd eventually agreeing to dog sit Titus while Bruce and Damian are out of town. Involving some deep seated issues, unintended animal therapy, snarky text messages between robins and eventually, some reconciliation between father and son.

Takes place in a murky in between time sometime after Damian was resurrected.

A NOTE: These are very rough drafts, I’m copy and pasting from my google doc, I switch tense all over the place, so apologies, but I want to share.

Part 1

___________________________________________________________________

He dreamed that night.

It wasn’t unusual, he had them at least a couple times a week, sometimes more, depending on different factors, what cases he was working, what kind of crap he ran into on patrol, and whatever damn lottery his brain was playing that night.

The downside: They were never good.

Sometimes they started out that way. Completely innocuous.

He was in a grocery store, and he was looking for something he couldn’t find but he couldn’t remember the name of it, or what it was. And he was walking down aisle after aisle of endless produce and there was a puddle on the floor, one of those yellow caution signs set up next to it, a janitor turned away from him, mopping, whistling as he went and it was far away, a long ways down the aisle but Jason recognized the tune. He knew the song but again he couldn’t place it. But it kept getting louder and the closer Jason got the less it sounded like music and the more it sounded like - like laughing.

Jason was shivering, it was suddenly freezing and when he looked down his clothes were all torn up and he - he was bleeding.

Suddenly he realized the shelves weren’t full of produce at all, they were packed full of bombs and the next step he tried  to take he tripped, his ankles were tied together. He fell on his face, right in that puddle on the floor and it wasn’t water, it was blood and the janitor was gone but that sound - the laughing, it was so loud, and it was everywhere, and he heard this awful scraping noise in the distance, something thin and metal dragging on the floor and Jason couldn’t breathe.

He tried to push himself up but his wrists were tied behind his back and everything hurt, it all hurt so much. The scraping on the floor got louder, closer, he heard footsteps, and the laughing stopped echoing all around him because it was clearly getting closer too. “Robin, kid, you’re really falling down on the job tonight.” And that awful laugh, that stifled giggle. “I really think you can do better.”

He felt the tip of the crowbar graze his side, just enough to make him shudder.

He was face down in a puddle of blood and Jason couldn’t breathe, he couldn't breathe, he couldn’t breathe-

He came to like a dying fish, gasping and choking on nothing, sitting bolt upright in bed with a cut off scream. His chest felt like iron, like no matter how hard he tried his lungs wouldn’t expand, they wouldn’t take in the air around him.

Jason threw the blankets off, feeling hot and cold all at once, and shoved his face between his knees, trying in vain to slow his breathing because there was nausea crawling up his throat and - and, shit- he managed to make it to the garbage can in the corner before he lost what little he ate for dinner. But like other times, at least, the vomiting felt like a relief. The coughing and gagging that followed were no fun, along with the racing heart and shaking hands. He spit into the can a few times, his teeth chattering together.

It felt like there were ants under his skin, just looking for a way out. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he managed to stumble to the doorway, stepping over the mess of stuff that had spilled out of the box at the foot of his bed, and flicking on the light. It burned his eyes but it at least gave him something to look at outside of the visions clouding up his head.

He still felt the sharp point of the crowbar dragging up the side of his ribs and his stomach gave another awful squeeze that had him rushing to the bathroom just to dry heave in the sink. Turning the tap on and splashing his face with water helped just a little but his mouth tasted sour and his stomach was still knotting up inside him.

Grabbing his toothbrush off the counter he nearly dropped it while running it under the water his hands were shaking so much. He could hear the awful stupid voice in the back of his head even over the stifled groan he let out when his stomach heaved again. He applied way too much tooth paste to the brush and jammed it in his mouth, barely managing not to fall down when he sat on the edge of the tub.

His ribs ached and his knees and shins and his head felt like it was gonna split open. He knew it was a phantom pain maybe because he’d been close to hyperventilating for a good few minutes at that point and he was having some kind of premature brain death from low oxygen but the knowledge very rarely helped. Instead he sat there in the blindingly bright bathroom with his eyes squeezed shut, scrubbing jerkily over his teeth and tongue trying to wash out the sour taste of stomach acid. Trying to scrub out the echoing laughs in his head, the sound of the crowbar dragging across concrete, the muffled thud of it against flesh and bone.

Of all his nightmares, the ones of the joker were always the loudest.

Sometimes he’d talk out loud to himself, or hum, just to try to drown it out but that just ended up making him feel crazier. He brushed his teeth for a long time, concentrating on the sound of the bristles against his gums, long enough that his mouth was just full of foam and there was blood mixing in with it, and then he’d forced himself to stand and spit in the sink. He splashed water over his face and just stood there for a minute, staring down into the drain and watching drops fall from the tap, gripping the edge of the sink with white knuckles, trying to support his weight with his arms cause his knees were shaking something fierce, listening to his own labored breathing.

Amazingly enough Jason Todd did not have cable, and his internet was spotty. It was annoying but the bunker he’d set up for Red Hood had better internet than you could buy plus access to the cave computer and when he moved into his place he reasoned that’s all he really used it for. He didn’t have money to burn and the apartment didn’t come with cable. But on nights like this, when the skeletons in his closet were rattling around like percussion instruments he really wished he could turn on the tv and listen to some bullshit telenovelas or cartoons or reruns of Titanic or he really didn’t freaking care.

He could read a book, that’s what he usually did, but after Joker dreams, sometimes it just - wasn’t enough. There were little tricks, little things he’d learned that helped and he went through the list in his head as he finally wrenched himself away from the bathroom sink, when it no longer felt like the bottom of his stomach was trying to climb up his throat.

There was a lighter on his nightstand next to a heavily scented candle that he lit with shaking hands, nearly burned himself before he set it down to the side and breathed in the biting scent of pine. There was a half empty carton of cigarettes stashed under his bed but he’d been trying to quit and he saved them for when things were really bad.

The trash can in the corner was a problem, one he’d rather not address right then but didn’t want to leave overnight because disgusting and so he took a spare moment to rinse some water in it and dump the contents in the toilet. He splashed some bleach in it and filled it the rest of the way with water and left it soaking in the bathtub.

Music was the next step, he didn’t remember where he tossed his cell phone when he came in and he had to stalk around the apartment before he found it sitting on the kitchen counter just inside the front door, unplugged and with a dead battery. He stared at the screen with an unexpected twist in his chest. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Abruptly, even though he’d woken without tears, just the pounding of his chest and head, he felt like he was going to start crying immediately and he sucked in a deep, noisy breath before making a point of plugging in his damn phone and going back to his room where the smell of the candle was enough to at least put him more in the present. It was the music that helped with the Joker dreams the most though and without it Jason was left feeling jittery and anxious in a way that only seemed to be getting worse the longer he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his bookshelves trying to decide which one would be the winner for the night.

His knee was bouncing enough he’d probably wake up his downstairs neighbor before something occurred to him. The smashed up box at the foot of his bed was still just where it was when he’d demolished it on his way in. The thought of it made a different anxiety twist in his stomach.

The box was from Alfred. Sort of. The box was full of Jason’s things so he wasn’t sure if it was really from anyone except that one day after patrol when Jason had been high on pain meds, half lying down on a medical cot in the cave with Alfred working on his stitches he’d admitted he missed some of his old stuff, his books, his CD’s, some video games. The conversation wasn’t meant to go anywhere and Jason had no idea why he said anything but Alfred had told him he was free to take whatever he wanted from his old room - it was still his, after all. But the very idea of going back in there made his skin crawl.

He’d heard from Dick that it hadn’t much changed since he died and that kind of made it worse. Jason didn’t want to step back in time, no thanks. The idea that Bruce had turned it into some kind of museum to before he had died did weird things to his insides and he’d told Alfred as much. He didn’t think he could stomach it.

Alfred had left it at that, didn’t push him to keep talking about it or try to tell him he should try anyway, like Dick probably would have. Jason always appreciated that about Alf.

Instead, about a week later Alfred had shown up at his apartment with a weeks worth of meals and a box of things he’d thought Jason might want. It was a nice gesture and Jason had appreciated it but he’d found, despite his earlier musings, that he held the same sort of apprehension to the box as he did to his old room. Everything inside it was part of his old life and most of the time it all just felt - untouchable.

He didn’t know why exactly, just that his years at the manor felt like some weird mix of dream and nightmare he could never quite suss out.

But now, with the Joker’s laughter ringing in his ears he thought it might be the lesser of two evils and he hoped to anyone listening that Alfie packed his old MP3 player.

Jason slid down across his rumpled bed and slipped over the frame, nearly tripped over the crushed box at his feet but fumbled around it until he could sit cross legged on the floor in front of it. He didn’t know where to start exactly, but he decided the best option was getting the MP3 player first. So, he dug in, pulling out old sweatshirts, a couple knit scarves, an old throw blanket. The soft things were all wrapped around the more fragile ones.

Underneath his old clothes and the blanket he finds a stack of CD’s, too bad he doesn’t have a CD player anywhere...There’s a stack of notebooks, a larger stack of book books, an old baseball, and there, the headphones wrapped neatly around it, is his MP3 player. An old iPod shuffle Bruce had gotten him more because it was something other kids had than that he’d known Jason wanted one.

What he was counting on, was good old Alfie, because while the charger for the device was neatly wound up next to it, it had been literal years since Jason had touched the thing and the idea that it might have any battery left was absurd unless Alfred had gone to the trouble of charging it before packing it away for him. With still shaking hands he unwound the headphones rapidly and shove them in his ears, pressing the home button and just praying for some kind of miracle.

“Bless you Alfred.” Jason whispered out over the heavy beat of hip hop music he didn’t ever remember downloading. He took a moment to breathe, sucking in the smell of wintergreen and letting the music drown out the noise in his head. The rest of the contents still sat there in stacks, pushed to the side of the torn open cardboard or still organized neatly inside it.

This was as far as he’d gotten in a month and Jason decided to just bite the bullet and get it over with. He reached for the first thing that caught his attention and pulled out a framed photo of Bruce and Jason at a baseball game. The same one, if Jason remembered correctly, that he’d gotten the ball in the box from. Bruce stood behind Jason, a hand on his shoulder, a half crooked smile on his face that meant it was real, while Jason at 13 years old stood in front of him, grinning from ear to ear with a mit and a baseball held up in his right hand.

He doesn’t remember who took the photo, it must have been some random person at the game, but he remembered being breathless and excited about going, that he’d never been to one before. He remembered telling Bruce that the closest he’d ever gotten was scalping tickets outside the doors of a hockey rink once and being chased off by a security guard. Bruce had gotten a weird look on his face that Jason never knew how to take before he clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed in a way that always made Jason feel weirdly warm in the chest.

“We’ll go to a hockey game next.” He had said. And Jason had been beyond excited.

He swallowed convulsively at the twist in his stomach and set the photo to the side. He wasn’t sure he wanted it anymore. Thinking about the good times with Bruce was always bitter sweet to him now.

Usually more bitter than sweet. The phantom image of a Robin uniform always coming to mind, filled out by some other kid, standing tall and smug. Jason shook his head. He’d decide later.

Next was an old backpack, still filled with his school books. He rifled through one, finding a doodle of a bow an arrow in the corner of one of the pages, a note scribbled underneath he couldn’t actually parse. There were pages of math homework, old assignments with marks ups from his teachers, little notes in red pen.

‘Good work’

‘Nice word choice’

‘Correct formula but you made a common mistake, see me after class and I can explain it better.’

Absently he wondered why Alfred had given him his old school stuff. Not like he had any use for it now and reading through it felt like going through some other kids stuff. It did give him a weird pang of regret. Because Jason had liked school. He’d thrived despite little shitheads in a rich school who thought he didn’t belong there and some teachers alike. Jason felt a weird sort of disgrace at never having graduated High School. Hell, he’d barely started. He stashed everything back inside the bag and set it to the side. He probably wouldn’t get rid of it, thought he wasn’t sure why.

The stack of books was probably what he’d missed the most and he pulled the top most copy off and flipped it open. Jason had a pretty large stash of books at this point, and he had replaced nearly, if not all the novels he’d had in the manor when he was younger already. But it wasn’t the books themselves exactly that he missed.

When Jason had moved into the manor the idea of having books of his own to return to had been a new and glorious thing. On the street, when you needed to keep something for yourself you found a way to mark it, or make it so other people didn’t want it. He’d half ruined most things he’d snatched from stores just so they wouldn’t bother wanting them back if he got caught.

Before his mom had died he’d had access to the Library, which was great, but it meant that none of the books were his and he’d had to keep them nice and neat if he wanted to be able to keep checking them out. It hadn’t been all that easy either, with a drug addicted mother and a lowlife dad who was always bringing other lowlifes around. He’d ended up stashing them under his bed anytime he wasn’t reading them.

The books in the manor were different. They had a library, which Jason treated as such, but Bruce had also expressed that Jason could have his own books. Ones he got to keep in his room that he wasn’t required to return to anyone else or share. He could even make notes in them if he wanted, highlight whatever text interested him or that he wanted to return to.

The idea of marking them up in anyway had horrified Jason when Bruce had made the suggestion, but he liked part of the idea. It made reading feel more like he was an active participant, like he could go back and forth with the characters, like he was involved in the story.

He’d never taken a pen to a book, but what he had done was fill all of his favorites with sticky notes.

Jason still did it sometimes, though he didn’t read as much as he used to as a kid when he was only patrolling on the weekends and just had school to think about. He flipped through the first few pages of Frakenstein, one of his favorites, perusing his own messy handwriting on bright pink paper, faded with age. Again though, the nostalgia twisted hard in his stomach. He was glad to have them back, thought he might actually read through them someday, but what had been something he missed...felt a lot like something he could still never have, now that he was holding it in his hands.

There were all these mixed up, tangled feelings twisted around Jason’s childhood. Sometimes when he was high on pain meds, or drunk maybe, it softened the edges enough to make all this seem like a good idea. But harshly sober and coming down off a nightmare….they just felt kind of like a sad joke.

Like looking at the props from a movie you used to think was real life.

“Whatever.” He mumbled to himself as he grabbed a pile of the books and stacked them back up in a haphazard pile. His bookshelves were neatly organized, lining his bedroom walls on three sides. He made sure to leave room for more, and the second bedroom still had blank walls he’d thought about repurposing for just such an occasion that he ran out. Normally things were organized by genre, then author, then title. But this particular collection he would keep together. He shelved them all on the lowest empty shelf near the floor, next to his dresser.

The picture frame he stuck face down in the drawer of his nightstand to think about later, the baseball, and the mit he dug out to match, he left sitting on his dresser. The couple sweatshirts smelled like fresh laundry, which wasn’t surprising, so he didn’t bother washing them, just hung them up in the very back of his closet. They’d never fit him now, and just looking at them when he tucked the arms of the hanger through the neck hole nearly had him reeling at how tiny he used to be.

His notebooks he didn’t even open, remembering clearly enough the awful drawings he used to make and his own amateur attempts at writing. Journaling had initially been a suggestion from Bruce, back when Jason had frequent outbursts of temper and never wanted to talk about it afterwards. Bruce wasn’t exactly a shining example of talking out your issues, so the journaling had probably been a nice cop out for him, but he still occasionally did some.

The throw blanket, Jason realized when he picked it up, was the same one that Alfred had knitted him for his first Christmas at the manor and that did get him a little choked up. It was red, and a little faded, the color clashed pretty badly with his bedspread if he was being honest but he didn’t care. He took the time to make up his blankets and folded the throw neatly at the end of his bed. Then he settled himself back on the floor in front of the nearly empty box.

There wasn’t much else he expected to find in it. It was large enough that Alfred had managed to fit his old skateboard, which Jason chuckled to see. Despite his skills as robin he had never gotten very good with the thing. He left it leaned up against his bedroom wall behind the door and went in for the last item, sitting neatly at the base of the box. It was wrapped in brown parchment paper and tied in twine, about the size and shape of a book if Jason had to guess, and a badly wrinkled card was tucked underneath the string.

Jason assumed at first that it was a gift from Alfred, stashed at the bottom of the box as some sort of surprise but the obviously crumpled and reflattened card couldn’t have been the butler. So Jason slipped out the card, a nice stock with a simple picture on the front of a sailboat that looked oddly familiar to him.

Upon opening the card he was momentarily confused. There was obviously a decent amount of text written out at one point, but it had all been scribbled out pretty damn thoroughly, he squinted at it for a moment, trying to make out the words as a slow dawning unease settled on his shoulders. He couldn’t quite make out the words but somehow the handwriting still looked familiar, a messy but somehow still graceful looping cursive that could only be Bruce’s.

Jason swallowed roughly, eyes scanning the card over again and then peering into the box like it might now suddenly contain a poisonous snake. It didn’t make sense.

That there was possibly a….gift stashed somewhere in his room from Bruce that he had never known about didn’t make any sense. And the idea that Bruce would have for some reason gotten him a gift since he was out of the manor and asked Alfred to deliver it made even less. Unless it was something related to their vigilante lives maybe. Maybe it was useful to Red Hood somehow and the scribbled out card was code for something.

But something told him it wasn’t. Bruce was ridiculous and paranoid and overly dramatic at the best of times but a secret message disguised as an old gift instead of making a phone call or telling him in person on one of the not infrequent times they might run into each other on patrol made little to no sense. And the gift did seem old he realized.

Reaching in and picking it up out of the box he found the brown paper covered in a layer of dust, brushed off in a pattern that could only have been someone’s hands moving it to begin with. The twine was brittle and snapped at the knot with a very light tug.

There was a feeling Jason sometimes got, like he was swimming in the ocean and he could sense some huge and dangerous coming up beneath him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. In general it didn’t usually represent (wrong word) anything positive but he was already waist deep in this whole thing and that feeling didn’t tend to leave him until the cause was addressed. So he took a single deep breath and tore the paper off, trying to brace himself for any possibility.

However, when the paper came off he was left with a complete absence of any reaction. He hadn’t known what to expect but somehow what he found was still entirely unexpected.

It was two items, stacked neatly one on top of the other. One, which was, upon retrospect, predictably a book. A hardcover copy of Pride and Prejudice, with a swirling and beautifully designed cover in deep navy blue, overlaid with gold.

On top of that was a slim DVD case with a photo of Kira Knightly looking artfully to the side with a blurry Matthew Mcfadyen in the background.

“What the hell.”

Jason yanked the headphones out of his ears, suddenly feeling the need for the quiet to digest whatever the heck he as seeing. He grabbed up the crumpled card again and opened it flat, smoothing it out on top of the book and squinting in concentration at the scribbled lines of pen. If Bruce wasn’t a pretentious asshole who always wrote in cursive he thought he may have been able to make it out but as it was the only thing that wasn’t in cursive was a cluster of numbers in the upper right hand side of the card that had only been partially scribbled out. He should have noticed them immediately but he had been more intrigued by what he was apparently not supposed to see.

The numbers though, they were clearly a date. A date that Jason stared at with a numbness in his bones while his brain calculated where he was and what he was doing when it was written. It was dated nearly a year ago. Right around the time that….that the two of them had talked. That Jason had agreed to play by Bruce’s rules.

“What….the hell.” Jason repeated to himself. His voice strangled and clipped. Dropping the card he suddenly flipped the book open, flipping the pages in a fan and looking for something more, turning the book face down and shaking out the pages hoping for some other information. Nothing.

He cracked open the DVD case next, popping the disc out and the little leaflet of information thinking there had to be some kind of hidden message somewhere.

“This is such bullshit.” He whispered to himself, incredulous and weirdly lost.

A strangely frantic idea was occurring to him and he picked up the card again, stumbling to his feet and going for one of the notebooks he’d stashed in his closet. He took the one on top and tore out the first blank page he came to and then spent ten minutes digging around for a pencil, ending up with the single sheet of notebook paper and the card, standing in his boxers and a t-shirt in his kitchen. The card he laid out on the countertop, putting the notebook paper on top of it. He angled the pencil carefully and began brushing gentle strokes across the paper.

It was an old hat trick Jason used to read about in ancient detective novels like it was some genius level trick, it would create a negative image of whatever had been written on the page before it was scribbled out, provided the original script was written with enough pressure. Bruce tended to have a heavy hand so he thought it’d be enough but the way the card was crumpled up made it a special challenge, leaving other divots and lines through the text.

When he was done he stared at the sheet of paper with a scrutinizing gaze.

“Damnit.” It looked like scribbles, which was exactly what it was, but maybe a tiny bit more like actual words than before. He studied it, trying to make out the individual first and last letter of each word.

The first word was clearly his name, he took the pencil and carefully wrote out “Jason” below the scribbles.

The first line he could make out sparing words from. He went through the note methodically, writing down words he could make out, leaving a line on the page for each word he couldn’t, carefully counting each word until he was at the bottom of the card and his hands were shaking again, worse than when he’d woken up from the dream.

He stared at what he had, trying to make heads or tales of it.

Jason,

I know ___ ___ ___ this book, ___ ____ ____ more ____ ___ copy. I think I remember ____ ____ me at some ____ ____ I ______ you of Mr. Darcy. ________ I was ______ and _____ _____ if my ______ ______ right.

Maybe you’ve ____ the _____ _______ too, ____ for me to say. It’s ____ a _____ _____ ____ talked _____ books and movies. But I saw this pair _____ sold ________ in a classics __________ at the ______ Bookstore in Gotham and I _______ of you. ____ _______ you might _____ it, ___ a good _________ of the book, if ___ _______. _____ __ _____ watch it ________ and _______ notes.

I miss you.

The vast majority of it didn’t make much sense beyond being clearly about the story and probably not some hidden message, but Jason didn’t care a whole lot.

Instead he stared at those last three words, feeling a tremor run up his spine. He dropped the paper on the counter like it burned him and took a step back, swallowing convulsively. His eyes were burning and his chest felt tight and this was not the bullshit he’d been expecting in that damn box.

“Fucking Alfred.” Jason scooped up the crumpled card and the sheet of paper and stomped back into his bedroom, grabbing the book and the movie and dumping it all in the bottom drawer of his dresser with old electronics and chargers he wasn’t sure went to what to be forgotten about. The drawer slammed closed and he stood there breathing like a freight train for a split second before he went back to the foot of his bed where he tore the empty box until it was flat and recyclable, he stashed it under his sink and he fumed.

Glancing at the clock on his microwave told him it was nearing 5am, meaning he’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep and that the the sun would be coming up in a couple hours. He stomped around his kitchen, dragging out coffee beans and milk and generally making as much noise as possible while making coffee just hoping his downstairs neighbor would come pounding on the door so he could scream in someone’s face.

“Fucking Alfred.” He hissed again, feeling utterly unsteady and hollow. Like someone had scooped out his insides with a spoon. It was such a bullshit move.

Jason wasn’t an idiot. No way Bruce knew that was in Alfred’s little care package. Bruce had probably forgotten the thing existed, had probably thought it had all been thrown away. He’d clearly meant to dispose of the card, probably had, and Alfred had rescued it from the trash and kept it on hand, just waiting to leave it like a bomb for Jason to find. Probably hoped it would open his eyes.

Make him see the light.

Jason was not going to be manipulated by some shitty card that Bruce had thrown in the trash rather than actually give him. And what kind of bullshit was that? Bruce thought he could give him some crappy copy of a book and a movie with a casual little note and things would be good?

He was insane. Bruce was insane and Jason had known it for years.

Jason was shaking his head, pulling a mug out of the cupboard for the coffee and setting it down harder than he needed to. What had he even been thinking? What? That if he gave Jason a present he’d just forget about all the other shit?

Oh, except that he didn’t give him the gift. Instead he threw away the card and put the gift somewhere it was gathering dust for the past year.

There were dishes in the sink from his dinner and he went about washing them by hand instead of using the dishwasher, needing to move, needing something to occupy his hands.

Needed something to work out his aggression on so he could keep hold of the anger in his chest.

*

*

*

He’d bought Jason a gift.

He leaned against the counter sink, gripping the edge hard and feeling the sharp edges of his indignation stuttering and losing their shape. He tried to grab onto it, hold it in place like the shield it was.

But - Jesus he doesn’t really know what to think of it. So Bruce bought it for him, and then what? Couldn’t bring himself to actually give it to him? His stomach twists in knots over it. He remembers meeting up with Bruce, sharing burgers on the hood of the batmobile and agreeing to work by Bruce’s rules.

He remembers he’d been in a good mood that day, that he’d felt more exasperated and amused by the request/demand than he would otherwise normally be. He remembers Bruce being blank and awkward and the good feelings slowly draining. Remembered Bruce cutting the meeting short and making some excuse for it and leaving Jason with that same souring bitterness he always ended up with with Bruce.

He hadn’t gone back on the agreement, he wasn’t really sure why exactly. Except that maybe...maybe him asking meant he didn’t believe Jason was some kind of lost cause.

Not that Jason cared, he had nothing to prove, not to Bruce.

But sometimes there were reasons to prove things to yourself and Jason wasn’t sure he had yet.

It didn’t matter. For now he wasn’t killing anyone and he was on the Bat’s good side. It didn’t explain the movie. There was a date on the card but for the life him Jason can’t remember exactly when they had their chat at the Batmobile. It was....around that time, but was it before or after? He can’t remember, and for some reason that really bugs him.

He doesn’t want to think about this stupid shit.

But Bruce had thought about him apparently. He….he missed him.

It was ridiculous. It wasn’t true.

Jason had to resist the urge to go dig that stupid card out of his dresser and try to parse out the words again.

“God damnit!” He slammed his hands against the edge of the sink.

He wasn’t supposed to care about this crap anymore. He didn’t. He didn’t care.

Jason didn’t care and he was going to stop thinking about it.

…..God he was going to need a shit ton of coffee to make it through the day.