#this is the chapter that made me do twice a week updates due to the fact its posting falls so close to hallowen

[cuz-reasons]

Summary: Emmet visits his brother's grave.

Guess what time it is!

[j0kers-light]

Hello light!

Could you cook us a submissive Joker oneshot???

His Lighthouse: Attention (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Attention- Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

I love being called Light omg! ☺️☺️ a total of 8 people have asked for sub!Joker. Eight!!! I did this but I need to do it again because the gurls are getting desperate.

I don’t want a rock through my window anon lol. I remember that. 🥴

Disclaimer: I suck at sub!Joker (dodges the tomatoes thrown at me) I am team dom!Joker but it’s not about me. It’s about us. Chef Chaos in the kitchen! Dinner is served. 👩🏾‍🍳👩🏽‍💻 please keep in mind I edited this while being sick so if there's mistakes.. no there isn't.

As always, If you wish to be a part of the His Lighthouse taglist, do let me know via comment, ask, or a quick direct message! 🖤✨

Any minute now and Joker was gonna lose what little sanity he had left. You were torturing him. You had to be! Why else would you deny him this long?

You were always doing something. Cooking, writing, reading, too sleepy, whatever! Joker really tried to be reasonable regarding your excuses. The first night he came home in a mood, he kissed up on you and earned a faint gasp— only to hear your sweet voice say, “J, it’s too early.”

You did have an early zoom meeting but that had nothing to do with him. It was four am and he was horny. You didn’t have to do a thing but lie there and feel good, but your whines convinced him otherwise.

“Yeah.. late. Early? Blah blah, time is a uhhh funny thing no?”

Joker reluctantly let you sleep, knowing he’d have all afternoon to have you. He kissed your hair and settled for holding you close as you fell back asleep. He was a patient man; he could wait for what he wanted.

But then your morning call dragged on well into the afternoon. By the time you logged off, you were mentally exhausted and only had the energy to fix something to eat and recharge for the next day. You crashed in bed, completely forgetting about Joker and missing his disappointed pout.

He brooded the entire night and yes, he killed innocent people because he was denied sex.

Again: Not. His. Problem.

Joker could wait until you were free to have your full undivided attention. Because he needed all of it for the things he wanted to do to you. Tomorrow was a new day—that is, until it became a trend for you to be too busy to spare J any time.

If you did have a spare moment, Joker always caught you at the wrong time like right before you were due for a meeting, or when you were nose deep writing a crucial scene. If he didn’t know any better, Joker would have thought you were brushing him off on purpose but your apologizes were genuine.

He made do calming his erections down or distracting himself to avoid arousal altogether but there was only so much a man could do. It was right there!

Sure, he could jerk off but where was the fun in that? His hand was nothing compared to yours or the warm vice that your pussy created. Man, he missed her. When was the last time he slid home or tasted all you had to offer? He couldn’t remember when.

Joker was not above begging (he’d done it once or twice since knowing you) but still. He wasn’t that hopeless.

Honestly, Joker didn’t know why he was lying to himself. He was that hopeless. Enough was enough.

Joker went an entire week and a half patiently waiting for you. It was torture to have you so close every day yet being unable to touch you. And the worst part? You were blissfully unaware that Joker was suffering.

He had to endure seeing your beautiful body walking around in the clothes you dare call loungewear. They were weapons of mass destruction in his eyes, no doubt about it.

Your plushy thighs barely contained by your shorts—what he’d do to have them in his hands; no. He wanted to leave bite marks on every inch and soothe them with his tongue. Thighs like yours were made to be worshipped. Squeezed. Devoured. Claimed. And he wanted to die being suffocated by them.

Joker was literally going through withdrawals he was so desperate!

Every time he closed his eyes; he saw you in his favorite position. Whenever his fingers brushed against something soft; he was reminded of your supple skin slick with sweat. He heard your innocent hums or sighs, and the sound shot to his dick, reminding him of times you made the same sounds in the throes of passion. He wanted your voice hoarse with tears streaming down your cheeks as he plowed..

Easy there. Down boy.. Down. Joker thought to himself.

You even haunted his random thoughts! You turned him to an addict waiting for the next high and as each day passed, he became more and more desperate to reach it. He was more than needy. Joker was deprived of his Light and feral. He would do anything for a sliver of your attention.

Two weeks going on three proved to be his breaking point. If you didn’t attend to his needs then he would take matters into his own hands and force you to.

Thankfully you gave him the perfect opportunity to plead his case. Joker came home and for once, you weren’t seated in front of your laptop.

You weren’t holding up a finger for him to be quiet. No headset on or handwritten notes scattered across your desk. No. You were in the kitchen chopping up some vegetables with music playing softly in the background.

It was neutral ground. Joker took hesitant steps until you acknowledged his presence with a smile. Okay... you didn’t look busy, nor did you tell him to leave. Was this his chance? You seemed to be in a good enough mood.

Just to be sure, Joker came up behind you and kissed your shoulder. It was bare due to the tank top you wore and f__k... you weren’t wearing a bra. This was torture indeed.

J buried his nose in the crook of your neck to block out the pungent smell of onions and instead soaked up the rich smell of you. You smelled divine as always. The strands of his hair tickled your skin the more he nuzzled in closer.

“Hm, that tickles.” Yet you didn’t stop your meal prep.

He was right there, why couldn’t you give him your attention?! He huffed and planted more kisses on the expanse of your neck and shoulders. You didn’t push him away so he took things to the next level by groping your breasts through the thin material of your top.

Now that got you to pause your music. “Joker. I’m cooking."

A rare whine escaped his throat, “’n I’m hungry.” He bit the spot where your neck met your jaw; your favorite erogenous zone.

“T-then let me cook. J.. quit it.” You shivered when his hands slipped under your shirt and finally touched you skin to skin. The initial contact sucked the air from your lungs, but you pressed forward. “This is my first time making this dish and I.. oh right there.. I don’t w-want to ruin it!”

Joker’s lips left your neck with a wet pop. Did he really had to beg for what he wanted? So be it then.

“But what about meeee, Bun? You’re ruining me. I.. I..” He groaned as he pinched your nipples into stiff peaks. Your body was responding to his needs, why couldn’t that pretty head of yours follow suit?

He whined again and started grinding his dick into your back, all but pining you to the kitchen counter. You weren't escaping this. Joker would not let you. “I... oh sweetheart, I um..”

You heard Joker stumbling over his words (and not his usual theatrical stumbles). Something was wrong. You turnt your head and barely caught J biting his lips. “Joker, are you okay?”

His green hair concealed his eyes from your view. He was a mess with his freckled face all rosy red with want but that’s not how you saw it. J looked in pain.

You dropped the chef knife and focused your attention on Joker. Finally. It’s all he wanted these past few weeks. Your attention. Undivided. Squarely on him.

He let you turn in his arms and he hummed when your hands cupped his scarred face. His cheeks were flushed and there was a glassy look in his eye that had you worried. “J? Are you catching a cold?”

What did he do to deserve this? Joker groaned and dropped his head to your chest. So soft. “Nuh uh. I just, mmm.” Why was it suddenly so hard to ask?

Maybe because you starved him for so long and now that he had your attention, it was just too much to take in. Your thumbs moved on autopilot and rubbed Joker’s scars, but you gasped when he caught one in his mouth and sucked.

Oh. Oh no.

You were speechless as Joker looked up through his long lashes. You knew that look. Granted you only seen it once, it was a state you could never forget. You thought it would be a one-time occurrence but as you took in the turbulent emerald waters in Joker’s eyes, you already knew what mindset he had slipped into.

“Can I have ya M-Mommy? I been verrrrry patient, so patient but I.. I need p-please? I need ya.”

Joker didn’t give you time to respond, he growled lowly and swept an arm across the countertop—sending food and other ingredients flying. You had a mind to scold him, but J already lifted you onto the counter before you could string a sentence together.

Your shrieked at the cold surface hitting your thighs but Joker’s hands parted them like a hot knife to butter. His lips were everywhere, telling you exactly what was on his mind.

You you you you you you you. Finally, he had you.

His hands were eager, pawing at your clothes—he needed them gone, he wanted access to your skin, your body, your warmth. There was so much to do, so little time. What if you denied him again before he had his way? No! Joker needed this. He needed you.

He latched onto your nipples over the cotton fabric and suckled. Your hands flew into his hair as a result. “Joker!”

He hummed, sending vibrations on your skin even as he grew inpatient and clawed at your waist hidden by your pesky shorts. The stupid thing could double as underwear it was so scandalous. Perhaps you underestimated just how desperate Joker truly was.

The fabric was like tissue paper in his hands although he didn’t dwell much on the loss nor on your startled gasp. He was one step closer to his goal.

His mind was flooded with the concept of you. The sounds you made, the way you responded to his touch. He was going insane(r).

You yelped feeling his hand snake in between your thighs and rub at your entrance. Joker groaned against your chest feeling the wetness coating his fingers. “Mm, soooo wet Mommy. Already? Are ya wet for meee? I knew it, you need this too.”

His words hit hard and caused more slick to pool into his palm. “Shhh, I know, I know.” J shushed your cries when he plunged his fingers inside your pussy and began to pump them nice and hard.

The stretch was unexpected; you forgotten the last time you and Joker were intimate. Work took a lot out of you these past few weeks. Sex was the last thing on your mind but Joker was so kind to reintroduce you to the concept.

The wet slick sound of your pussy was loud in your ears and Joker amplified it by moving his fingers faster. He truly was a man possessed.

He watched each emotion alter your face with every stroke of his fingers. Knuckles deep made your eyelashes flutter like wings.

Letting his thumb rub your clit with every retreat had your back arching beautifully. When he rubbed against your favorite spot thus earning a high-pitched yelp, he grinned and kissed anywhere he could. You’d have hickies all over, he didn’t care.

Gods, you were stunning. This is what he missed all those nights.

You in the throes of passion under him. Over him. It did not matter. His cock twitched in his pants the louder you moaned out your pleasure. You were close and he couldn’t wait to see you unravel.

Would you notice him grinding into the counter? Probably not with how your thighs were shaking.

You were clinging onto Joker’s shoulders, crying out for him and he heard every single word spill from your lips.

Your eyes found Joker’s the moment the white-hot coil in your belly snapped. He was right there to watch you come undone. And what a sight you were.

His moans echoed yours as you rode out your high. J didn’t stop the fast thrusts of his fingers in your cunt not even when you whimpered ‘too much,’ he just shook his head.

No, you deserved all his love, why run from it? If he could go weeks bottling up his desire then you could handle the tsunami wave of it crashing down on you. It only seemed fair in his twisted mind.

You did not know when Joker stopped fingering you. One minute your cunt was teetering on the edge of another orgasm, the next Joker was kissing you senseless.

Attempts at your name mixed in with his subby whines caught you off guard but nothing compared to hearing Joker’s still wet hand stroking his cock.

Your eyes shot open at the lewd sound. He had no shame. Joker stood before you jerking himself off with precum splattering on the tile kitchen floor.

Why did he look thicker, heavier, and you bit your lip catching a fleeing glimpse of his angry red head before it disappeared in his fist.

Yeah, J looked in pain alright. If he didn’t have you soon, he just might combust. His entire frame shook with the restraint he held. It sent a tingle of fear down your spine. You might not walk after this..

How long had it been since you and J had sex again? Your mind drew a blank.

And not like it mattered; Joker was tired of waiting. He rested his forehead against yours with a choppy sigh. “Mm, I need it. I need you. I’m sorry Mommy, I ahhh…”

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as Joker bottomed out inside your pussy with one powerful thrust. Home at last. Why did he ever leave? Why did he wait so long?

He let out a guttural groan as he set his hands on the counter near your hips. “Yessss f-finally f__k yes! Oh, thank you Mommy. Thank you. Fuuu—”

Joker proceeded to pound into you and all logical thought was lost to time. Only his babbles of thank yous and sloppy kisses to your skin were deemed relevant.

Pieces of chopped vegetables and other ingredients clung to your back but none of that clicked inside your scrambled brain.

Your current thoughts were surrounded on breathing and not blacking out. Was Joker always this feral or did it have to do with the time apart? He was a completely different person plowing into your cunt, spaced out, and drooling onto your skin. If you got the chance, you would wager his eyes blown out by lust with no green therein.

It was hot to be desired to such a degree. To be thanked for spreading your legs while at the same time, being reduced to mere a fleshlight.

Nothing else mattered except the hard wet slap of Joker’s hips meeting your own.

He had a bruising grip on your waist to help guide you forward onto his invading length. You could feel every vein on Joker’s dick dragging against your walls, over and over without remorse, until another orgasm bubbled up to the surface. He had no plans of stopping but black dots were filling your vision.

“J....” you said with a shaky breath.

Your hands sought him out, requesting anything to help ground you to earth. You found hope clinging to Joker’s wrists although that triggered something in him.

Perhaps it was already there lying dormant, nevertheless, he yanked you up from the counter and into his arms. Once J knew you secure, he kissed your cheek and began bouncing you on his cock.

The new angle was deeper with the same brutal pace as before. It snatched a wanton moan right from your throat that Joker responded to with a sweet coo.

“Ooh, you like that Mommy? This big.. fat d-dick deep n’ hard in my pretty girl’s guts? Yea? Well it’s allllll for you, no one else. I always wanna be in ya Mommy.” He grunted when he slammed you down a bit harder than expected. “F__k, you’re sooo tight!!”

You clawed at his arms the same time J grimaced from your pussy squeezing him to death. He happened to be a certified masochist but this was the best pain he ever experienced.

That and the longest blue balls you subjected him to. He could not wait to empty inside you.

Which reminded him; that this was all your fault.

“Whydda make me wait huh? Ya g-got me.. ngh, goin’ crazy for this pussy. H-Hallucinating and s__t! Ya makin’ me crazier n’ I love ittttt!”

He bounced you harder on his cock during his mindless babbles and you almost missed what he said.

Make him wait? What nonsense was Joker on about? You lifted your head from J’s neck and eyed him sideways. Not once did he come to you this past month!

You thought he was too busy with all his crime and whatever he did at night to be bothered.

His accusations made you mad and before you knew it, your hands were wrapping around Joker’s throat.

You wanted him to just shut up and keep f__king you, however you weren’t expecting a dazed smile to bloom across J’s face nor hear the feminine moan that escaped him. He was ruined beyond measure.

Oh. Now that was unexpected.

“H-Harder.” He begged. Joker. Begged. The idea was unheard of. You blinked in shock but did as you were asked albeit hesitantly.

You used both hands to squeeze his airway. Joker made noises you��ve never heard before (all them sending liquid fire to your clit) as he picked back up his erratic thrusts into your cunt. He liked this?

His hazy smile confirmed it.

Without warning, J fell back onto the fridge, taking you with him. It was jarring at first, but his grip on you never faltered. In fact, he never missed a beat ramming into your sopping wet hole.

Apparently, J wasn’t the only one enjoying the newly discovered choking kink.

“Harder, baby. I-I can t-take it!” You were wary, Joker could tell, so he snapped his hips up to hit your g spot with a disturbing accuracy. It only took a few hits for you to crumble.

You cried out as your orgasm took you by surprise. Joker didn’t know which was tighter. Your hand around his neck or your pussy on his dick; either way, what bliss.

He just closed his eyes and flooded your cunt.

He felt each spurt of cum with the lack of oxygen making him hypersensitive. He had so much to give, he could feel it spilling out of you and down to his balls.

He didn’t want to leave your warmth; it felt too good. A perfect finale for weeks of denial.

Despite the room spinning, Joker was ever mindful of you in his arms as he slid further down the fridge and ultimately to the floor. The cold tiles were a shock to his sweaty skin and he rightfully shielded you from it with his body.

The two of you breathed in the hot, balmy air as time caught up to reality.

You were still seated on J’s cock, playing with the ends of his hair. You couldn’t get up even if your life depended on it.

You didn’t want to be the first to speak but J wasn’t planning on it. He was still on cloud nine, only allowing his thumb to rub mindlessly on your lower back.

Last time Joker did not want to acknowledge his unusual behavior so you had to walk on eggshells just in case he would have the same mentality today.

“Um, J? Are you okay?” You glanced at his neck which was already turning red, “I hope I didn’t squeeze too hard.”

His Light; always so sweet and pure. Joker smiled at your worrisomeness. You did choke him harder than he’d anticipated but he didn’t want you freaking out and not consider doing it again.

Again. He was already thinking about a repeat performance. He was truly messed up in the head. Joker shook his head and fussed over you.

His voice is hoarse when he finally replied. “I’m fine, Bun. That was…”

He shifted as if highlighting exactly what the two of you just did.

You blushed feeling the sticky mess pooling in between you and Joker’s legs. You grimaced at the thought of cleaning up later. Right now, you just sighed in relief. Sex with Joker was always an adventure.

Today however…

The elephant was still lingering in the room. “I thought you didn’t like being.. you know.” You bit your lip, looking away.

Joker tapped it lightly to make you stop. All his previous actions and statements done in the heat of the moment rushed back to him and oddly enough, he wasn’t embarrassed like last time.

He still didn’t know what to make of it these developments.. but you deserved an answer as his partner.

“I uh don’T? I just get so ahh, des-per-ate? Needy? Hm. I’m obsessed what can I say? Its errr.. your fault, for leaving me high n’ dry. Don’t. Do. It. Again.” He growled as he pinched your cheek.

Good to know he was back to his normal self. And in record time too.

You rubbed the sting away with a pout. You missed his submissiveness already. “Maybe Mommy should deny her pretty boy again. I kinda like you all pussy drunk and needy. Would you like that baby” you teased.

Joker’s cheeks flushed red, “Yes I.. ah ahem! Pft. Whatever ya want Bun.” He looked away, hoping you didn’t hear the first half of his sentence.

Unfortunately, you did. “Just admit you like it, J. There’s nothing wrong with a mommy kink.”

“I. Do. Not. Have. A..” you cut him off with a firm hand around his throat. His pathetic moan and the throb from his dick stirring up inside you was all the proof you needed.

You cooed and kissed his nose. “Aww, its okay J baby. Mommy knows the truth now and I’m gonna have, so much fun with you.”

[ros3ybabe]

Daily Check-in: April 5, 2024 🎀

Friday was a decently good day! I managed to get some stuff done despite extremely fatigue (thank you womanhood), a 6.5 hour class, and crying my eyes out on zoom with my boyfriend (again, thank you womanhood). I hate having a functional female body, but I love being a woman? ughh, the confliction

🩷 What I Accomplished:

completed Chapter 9 of Spanish on Busuu

Created an excel spreadsheet to track scholarship applications that I am going to begin working on soon

watched a short YouTube interview in Spanish for some passive/active-ish learning

took a peak at the pdf Spanish textbook I'm going to begin using

read the first chapter of Essentialism (not sure if I'm going to keep reading that for now)

caught up on hand written psyc notes from the last two lectures

created a list of things for my excel spreadsheet for hosting rent options near my campus (I am moving out of my current place soon)

made my brain dump list for the week

planned out my upcoming week loosely

contacted a financial peer mentor from my university for help learning about budgeting and saving better

🩷 Good Things That Happened:

my position in my restaurant class barely changed, so I'm happy

met most of my prioritized goals

decorated one of my tracking journals with cute stickers

got confirmation that my friend is taking me to work on Saturday

had a really good day overall

got to zoom call my boyfriend twice

talked to my dad on the phone twice

my grade in one of my classes went up from a 79 to an 83

🩷 What Could've Been Better:

my friend and I accidently swapped chem lab notebooks on Thursday so I wasn't able to do my report with the extension

got told I was talking to loud during my restaurant class :(

found that I'm working with a girl I'm not too fond of (due to her controlling and "authoritative" tendencies) for my restaurant class

cried on zoom with my boyfriend because this time of year is hard for me

lots of back pain and low stomach cramping

drank a soda after having a coffee and had waayyy too much energy

didn't drink enough water or eat enough protein/vitamin-richs foods

🩷 Stuff To Do Tomorrow:

work shift 8am to 3pm

complete small Spanish study tasks

read a chapter of a book

update my brain dump list

create excel spreadsheet for renting options near the campus

look into savings template for my goals

find out how many hours I've worked to guesstimate my pay for this upcoming paycheck

complete assignment for chemistry

Saturday is going to be a good day! I am going to make sure I have a good day on Saturday because even if bad things happen, it doesn't mean my day itself was inherently bad. Gotta stay optimistic

til next time lovelies 🩷

[bdafic]

How have you been?

I appreciate this -- it's very kind to ask. I'm putting the answer under a cut because it's an honest one, and I get that not everyone is comfy reading about more serious medical/health stuff.

Not great!

Some years back, I suffered a pretty significant brain hemorrhage that resulted in permanent damage. I had a smaller one about a year ago, and possibly another in the summer. This is all due to a genetic condition.

I made a good recovery, but part of that was (is) accepting that I will never go back to being the person I was. And that really fucking sucks. Among other things, my short-term memory, speaking, word-finding, reading, and short-term memory are all severely impacted. I am bursting with the desire to create, but much of the time it feels like my hands are bound and my mouth taped shut. Writing is something I was always pretty good at -- I've been doing it since childhood -- and it's demoralizing to see it ripped away so easily.

I would love to be more connected to fandom spaces, but it's hard to feel comfortable talking to people. It's embarrassing to repeat myself, forget shit, talk too much, mix up words, say things the wrong way... People on the internet are not known for extending grace and patience. What I miss the most is being able to read tons of other works and leave comments. Nowadays I have to use a voice reader, take notes, frequent breaks, constantly restart chapters, and potentially wait ages for another 'good' day. I genuinely get a lot of joy out of uplifting others, but it's deeply uncomfortable to do all of that and then spend the next week worrying that I still managed to mess it up somehow. I was already weird and autistic before any of this and let me tell you brain damage has not improved things!

Currently, I am awaiting surgery for a different thing relating to the same genetic condition. My body is not digesting food, and it causes a lot of pain. As a bonus, malnutrition also messes with your brain function. This, too, sucks.

(For the record, my wife has instructions on how to update this account if anything more permanent were to happen to me).

I think about my writing almost every day. I try to pick at my drafts whenever I can make my words work. It's cliché, but every time I get a comment or someone like you comes by and asks me a question, it feels very revitalizing. It tells me I was once capable of creating something that someone else thought was kinda neat. Maybe I still am. I'm fairly unknown in this fandom and very rarely get asks or a bunch of comments or anything, so every time an AO3 email comes in it is a genuinely wonderful surprise. The one perk of brain damage is that I may forget to archive the email and then get to experience that wonderful surprise several times over!

(If I have ever replied to a comment twice: I'm very sorry. I will do it again).

I hope this does not discourage anyone from leaving one, because I regularly go back and re-read them. They mean a lot to me, especially right now. I don't have anyone to talk to about Dragon Age and fic, and I am not comfortable with the people in my life knowing how many hundreds of hours I have spent thinking about elves having sex, so it's really nice to live in a world where I can gush with someone else for a moment.

Thanks for taking the time to ask.

[lolmeowaj]

(Gonna just use this post to give some of my thoughts on the Deltarune status updates and also give ya'll some status updates on my life so if any of it is irrelevant to you feel free to ignore those parts.)

So I, like the rest of the fandom, have been lowkey freaking out about the updates. I remember back when chapter 2 was getting updates like these a few years back, so at this point it's really only a matter of time till it chapters 3 and 4 drop. I believe a release within the next 3ish months is possible. (I know some have been predicting only a month's more wait, which is possible, but as a game dev myself I feel obligated to estimate higher rather than lower, as like, a courtesy I guess? )

Oh, and like everyone else I was very surprised by the Tenna mention in his last Blusky update. (Hence the above drawing I made.) I am a very known and vocal Gaster hater online due to the fandom's cult-ish behavior surrounding him, and I am inclined the feel similarly about Mike/Tenna. However the worst of all of that happened prior to the spamton sweepstakes, since then people have just sort of shut up about it and are just awaiting to see what Toby himself will do with the character. Which if people could do that for Gaster I think I could let up my hate for him slightly as I do like Mystery Man in UTHH.

Ultimately, I am very excited for the new chapters and literally how quickly I am going to buy and play it is- well unimaginable lmfao. I am the Toby loremaster after all. In the mean time all I have is the dilemma of what console I want to buy it on. ahaha.

Ok this last part is more for my followers/moots. Gonna be honest last was lowkey one of my worst weeks. I was struggling to keep up with my school work and then suddenly came down with the flu after having been fine over the weekend. Overall not good times. I am basically recovered now, but my school has still been having some troubles. Only my fellow americans will understand this struggle, but I have been studying for the SAT for a few weeks now, and I am scheduled to take the test in roughly 3 weeks. I am in a fortunate position where I am taking a class to prepare, however I can tell it's slowly burning me out as it is 2 hours I HAVE to dedicate to it twice a week, along with a lot of practicing AND my regular work. So while I knowledge it's a problem coming from fortune, it's still a problem. I have to remind myself I only have to deal with it for a few more weeks, but that's also a scary thought. Although basically I won't be working on creative stuff till I'm done with that. So don't exspect to see anything other than shitposts or reblogs until late March. Perhaps by then UTYHH ep.3 will be out. Which is weird to think about because I wrote it back in december.

[stoicman-wbk]

Don’t bite the hand that feeds you fanfics:

Hey, just wanted to rant for a sec about a comment I received earlier on my ongoing Windbreaker fanfic.

I was really excited to see a new comment in my inbox, but then I read it and it said:

“Let's move on to the next chapter...”

This is NOT the motivation commenters think it is. It’s the exact opposite, actually.

Here I am, working a full time job and doing overtime because of the holidays. Here I am during hunting season trying to spend a few mornings in the woods so I can get food to feed me and my family for the next fucking year. Here I am trying to juggle writing my own fic (this one, with no deadline because it’s purely for myself), writing a fic for a Windbreaker gift exchange (due in December), writing for a fan zine (with a check-in in December), creating content for a week-long fan event (also in December), creating a commission for a customer (again, due in December), creating a large hand-made gift for my mother (you guessed it, due in December), plus shopping for the rest of my friends/family even though I still have no idea when I’ll even get a freaking chance to do that.

I cannot prioritize a fanfic that has NO deadline over everything else right now. And I said as much in the notes of my last chapter. I even vaguely explained all the shit I have going on right now, and yes, I know it’s been a few weeks since I updated & my readers are used to me shoveling out chapters once or twice a week like some sort of maniac. And most of my readers have been incredibly kind and understanding, and I greatly appreciate their patience (seriously, I love them).

But y’all have to understand, I am writing in what little spare time I have and posting it for others to read for free. Of course I love my readers and especially the ones that comment regularly. But I do not owe anyone the time and effort that it takes to write. I write because I feel like it, because I enjoy it, and because I have time to do so. So when I don’t have the time and energy to spare, people need to be a little more patient. Please.

Demanding updates does not get fanfics updated faster.

In fact, this one comment single-handedly has caused me to further postpone my update.

I was literally planning to binge-write the next chapter tomorrow since I’ll be off work, but getting this rude comment has made me bitter & I am NOT going to reward this behavior with an immediate update.

So, I’m really sorry to all of my other readers, but you’ll have to be a bit more patient.

I’m now going to use this time to work on my other projects that actually have deadlines. It’ll probably be better for me to do so anyway. Once I get some of those out of the way, then I will have more time to focus on my ongoing fic.

So yeah, this is just a reminder that it costs nothing to NOT be rude to people who are literally providing you with free entertainment.

And you making demands will cause you to wait longer because I am nothing if not full of spite ☺️

Oh, and if you’re curious, the fanfic is “Promise” which is the latest part of my Suo-centric series, “Cracks in the Mask”

[sjsmith56]

Brother - Chapter 1, Eyes of the Father

Summary: Taking place after the events at the destruction of the helicarriers a young woman writer finds an injured man in her garage and decides to help him.

Length: 4.7 K

Characters: Named female OFC (described physically but she doesn’t consider herself pretty), named OMC - her brother who’s in trouble, named OMC - FBI agent, recurring character, Bucky Barnes (beefy, long hair).

Warning: Mourning for dead relatives, mistrust of FBI agent, OFC struggling financially. Reference to drug use.

Author notes: There is a long time arc with this story, with some jumps forward being made. Updates will be twice a week.

🏡 🔨 📚

Late 2014.

The sweat kept dripping into Lacey's eyes and she kept using her gloved hand to brush it off. Finally she had enough and she went into the small house, found a large rag and tied it over her forehead, smoothing her blond hair under the edge. She poured herself a large glass of water and stood over the sink, drinking the water down. Then she went back outside and continued to sand the old paint off of the window trim. She noticed some of the caulking coming off and she added replacing that to her list of things to fix on the old house that her grandfather had left her. The list, which had grown considerably from the day she took possession, had already overwhelmed her meagre savings and unless she sold another article was perilously close to being insurmountable. Still, she had inherited the Williams stubborn streak and remained convinced that she could turn this ramshackle abode into someplace she could live and write in peace. Her concentration was broken by the sound of a cough and she looked up to see her older brother, Tom, watching her.

"I heard that Grandpa left it to you," he said, as he stepped up onto the porch and ran his hand over the railing. She hadn't even heard his car when he drove into the yard. "What memories I have of this place. I liked him too, you know. He didn't leave me anything."

"You hadn't seen him in over five years," replied Lacey. "None of you had really. I was here every chance I could get, and I lived with him for a year while he was dying. Someone had to take care of him because he wouldn't go into a hospice."

"I'm not disputing that you don't deserve this," stated her brother. "I just wish you had reached out to me at least. I didn't know he was dying and I would have made an effort to help."

Lacey nodded. "What have you been up to?" she asked. "By the clothes and your car it would appear you're doing well."

He shrugged. "Being a stockbroker comes with financial rewards but it's a killer career," he admitted. "It's not what I planned to do with my life but I'm good at it so ...."

Lacey stopped and put the sander down. "Why are you really here, Tom?" she queried. "I'm pretty busy trying to fix everything Grandpa couldn't fix while he was sick."

"Let me help," he said. "No strings attached. You must have run out of money already and I know that the taxes are probably due soon. I have the money and if you let me I'll help with the work. It might help me begin to like myself again."

She looked at him. Out of her three siblings he was closest in age to her and they had got along for the most part. He bought her alcohol when she was underage, had been with her the first time she smoked pot, showing her how to roll the joint and properly inhale the smoke. They had drifted apart when he went to college and fell in with a rich crowd of friends. Looking closer at him she saw the lines in his forehead and the dark circles under his eyes.

"What's going on?" she asked, coming closer. "You don't look well."

He took a breath and looked around, trying to decide what to say. "I fucked up," he whispered. "I got involved with a shady deal and I'm terrified that if I'm not arrested someone is going to come looking for me and hurt me or worse. I need a place to hide out while I figure out what to do and you're the only one I trust. Please, help me."

Leaning against the railing his whole body deflated as if he had been keeping this terrible secret for so long it had overwhelmed him. Lacey looked at Tom, and noticed his hand shook as he lit a cigarette.

"We should put your car in the garage then," she said. "It's a dead giveaway ... sorry for the words."

He smiled grimly then hugged her desperately. "Thank you," he whispered. "I didn't know who else to turn to. Mom would have freaked out. Nancy is caught up in her divorce and Terry is ... well he's always been an asshole, hasn't he?"

A bitter laugh escaped Lacey's lips at the mention of their oldest brother Terry, who was an asshole. Blessed with exceptional athletic ability he had been drafted by the New York Giants and had forged a successful career as a wide receiver. He had also surrounded himself with a circle of like-minded friends who lived to hit the stripper bars and date starlets. Everything in his life was about him and keeping the gravy train going.

While Lacey opened the doors of the ancient garage Tom backed his car in, got his bag out, and together they closed the doors, locking them with a padlock. Her brother followed her into their Grandpa's house and she left him in the small, spare bedroom. In his condition she didn't think he could sleep in their grandfather's bedroom where he had breathed his last breaths but she had no qualms about it, having been with him at the end. She returned to the porch to continue sanding and was joined by her brother ten minutes later. He had changed into blue jeans and a T-shirt. Handing him a hammer and nails she asked him to nail down any loose boards on the porch. He smiled and got to it right away. They worked together without comment until they heard the sound of thunder and put the tools away just before it started to rain.

While Tom washed up Lacey fried up some burgers for them in the cast iron pan that she placed over the gas burner. She sliced some tomatoes and onions, broke apart some lettuce leaves and put the condiments on the table. Then she pulled out a couple of cold beers. Tom opened them and took a long drink from his bottle. They both made up their burgers and took a good sized bite, saying nothing except making contented noises as they chewed. Lacey finished chewing her second bite and looked at her brother.

"Who would want to hurt you?" she asked.

"The Russian mob," he said reluctantly. "I didn't know the deal was money laundering. It was one of my colleagues that asked me to set it up. When I found out I panicked. I took off and drove here."

"It's not like you stole their money, is it?" she looked him directly in the eyes.

He didn't make eye contact at first. "I put it into a secret account," he replied finally. "In case I decided to go to the police with it. I wanted proof of the money trail and I don't have that. So I'm screwed either way."

"Fuck," muttered Lacey. "Does your colleague know about me? Or any of us? You have to figure they might come after any one of us to force you into the open."

"I didn't think of that," he admitted. "Shit, I'm sorry. I should leave. Draw them away."

"Tom, just go to the police," she pleaded. "At least they can give you protection and they probably have forensic accountants who can help you with the money trail. If not the local police then the feds, FBI maybe."

"When did you become so smart?" he asked. "I never thought of that. Look, I'll stay here tonight and tomorrow I'll go to the FBI. I promise."

She searched his face, looking for any sign of lying but as far as she could tell he meant everything he said. After cleaning up the dishes Tom went into his room while Lacey sat in front of her laptop trying to write. She still tried to write 1000 words per day while she was working on the house, not wanting to get out of the routine. After a few hours she had enough and decided to go to bed. It was raining pretty heavily and she figured it would help with falling asleep. Gently she knocked on Tom's door and he opened it.

"I'm going to bed," she said. "I've turned everything off out here. I'll see you in the morning."

He hugged her. "You bet," he said. "Good night. I love you, little sister."

"I love you, too, big brother," she replied, and turned to her room.

Settling under the old quilt that her grandmother had made she listened to the sound of the rain hitting the roof and slowly drifted off to a deep sleep. She awoke before sunrise with a start, thinking she heard the sound of a car leaving. Getting out of the bed she went to Tom's room and found it empty. His bag was gone as well. On the kitchen table was a piece of paper with Tom's handwriting on it and five hundred dollars paper clipped to it. She put the overhead light on to read the note.

Lacey,

I'm going to the FBI with what I know. Hopefully, they believe me. I'm sorry for disappointing you and for running out before you got up but I was afraid if I saw you I would lose my nerve.

I'm glad Grandpa left you the house. You deserve it. You deserve so much.

I love you.

Tom

Stepping outside she walked across the damp grass to the garage and found it empty. He really had left and she suddenly felt sick, in a frightened sense. The padlock had been left open, with the key still in it, and she began to close the double doors when she heard a noise from inside. As quietly as possible she reopened one of the doors, stepped inside, and grabbed a shovel, holding it in both of her hands.

"Who's there?" she asked. "This is private property and you're trespassing. If you leave now I won't call the police."

Stepping further inside the dim interior she could feel her heart pounding. Then she saw him, a man moaning on the floor of the garage. He was a big man, dressed in jeans, boots, and wearing several layers of clothing as if he was cold, which he likely was as he was soaked. A back pack lay beside him. His long hair covered his face and he had several days beard growth on his face.

"Please," he said, raising his hand with his palm out. "I won't hurt you. I just needed a place to hide out of the rain until I got my strength back. I saw the man leave and he left the garage open. I didn't know you were here."

Slowly she approached him and kneeled down to see him better. She saw his leg was bleeding and that he had tied a belt on it to act as a tourniquet. His voice was soft and non-threatening. He moved his head and she saw a flash of blue eyes, the bluest eyes she had ever seen, even in the dim pre-dawn light.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"James," he said in that deceptively soft voice. "I just need to rest for a few hours then I'll be on my way."

She placed the shovel against the wall. "Come on, James," she said, offering her arms to him. "I have a first aid kit in the house. You need to get out of those wet clothes as well."

He began to protest but he saw the look on her face and he slowly got up, leaning on her as she helped him stand. His size surprised her. She guessed he was at least six feet tall but he seemed bigger with his broad shoulders. He grabbed his back pack with his left hand and put his right arm around her shoulder as she put hers around his waist. Slowly they walked out of the garage and into the house, where she helped him to the couch.

"I'm sorry to bother you but do you think I could have some water?" he asked politely, looking up at her with those blue eyes.

Lacey brought him a glass of water which he drained while she went to the bathroom, bringing out the first aid kit. He looked intently at her as she approached.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Lacey Williams," she replied. "I live here. The man was my brother, Tom. He's ... in trouble and is turning himself into the FBI. I'm guessing you're in trouble as well."

He smiled slightly and she saw a flash of white teeth. "Oh yeah," he replied. "Big trouble. That's how I got shot. Certain people want me back and I don't want to go back to doing what they made me do."

"Well, I'm not going to ask for details right now," she decided. "I'm going to have to rip your pants open to fix your leg. I can fix the pants but they need washing with all the blood that's on them. You could probably do with a shower as well ... no offence."

"None taken," he smiled again and she felt a sudden heat inside her at the sight of it. "If you help me to your bathroom, I can shower and remove the bullet myself. I've done it before. I'll take you up on washing my clothes, if that's not too much of an imposition. Then I'll be on my way."

"I have a robe you can wear," she offered. "It's old, belonged to my Grandpa. I keep it to remind me of him."

He nodded and she helped him to the bathroom, then brought the robe to him. "Thank you," he said softly, then he closed the door, opening it shortly after while wearing the robe. She saw a flash of something silver coloured and he changed his position, hiding his left hand from her. Handing her a bundle of clothing he nodded his thanks and closed the door. She heard the shower come on and she waited until it stopped before putting his clothes into the washer, not wanting to use up all the hot water. She looked down at herself and realized she was still wearing what she had worn to bed. She went in her room, locked the door and changed. There were no other sounds from the bathroom when she came out so Lacey began making some breakfast. Guessing he hadn't eaten for a while she made a lot and when he did come out in her Grandpa's robe his eyes widened at the spread she put out.

"I figured you were likely hungry," she said. "Go ahead. I don't mind. Did you get the bullet out?"

"Yes, I did," he answered as he sat at the table. "It will heal quickly."

She watched him as he ate. His long hair was slicked back over his ears, and she noticed that under the unshaven face he was really quite handsome. Even with just the robe on he was a big man; his broad shoulders and chest hinted at the muscular body she was sure was underneath. His manners were good. He commented on how tasty the food was and he was well on his way to eating all of it. She noticed he wore a glove on his left hand and stared at it for a bit drawing his notice.

"You're wondering about the glove," he said quietly. "I have an artificial arm and hand. It ... bothers some people."

"Why?" she asked. He stopped eating and for a moment she saw anxiety on his face. "I'm sorry. It's really none of my business."

"It's because of what I was," he finally said, after much deliberation. "What I was forced to do. The people who gave me this arm made it very distinctive, as a sort of calling card, I guess. It was supposed to make my targets afraid."

He had stopped eating and looked intensely at the surface of the table, as if he was afraid of revealing more. Lacey said nothing, but a thought had grown in her head and she took a deep breath. Was this soft spoken polite man really him?

"You're him," she said softly. "The assassin for HYDRA that everyone is looking for, Bucky Barnes."

The man still said nothing but his demeanour had changed to that of a man filled with regret and sadness. When he looked at Lacey she could see the pain in his eyes as he slowly nodded his head. "I meant what I said in the garage," he stated. "I'm not that man anymore and I won't hurt you. Once my clothes are clean I'll be out of here and you'll never see me again."

"Who shot you?" She had an idea but she wanted confirmation.

"HYDRA," he replied. "They're still looking for me, along with the CIA, who have shoot to kill orders on me. I was in New York, trying to find a ship to Europe I could stowaway on and they cornered me on the docks. I had to jump into the Hudson River and swim to Staten Island. It was a long way and cold but it was the only way to escape them in the dark. I made it, barely. I'll try to get on a ship in Philadelphia or Baltimore instead."

Lacey swallowed. It was November and this man had just told her he swam from New York to Staten Island with a bullet in his leg. He had said it so matter of factly that she had no doubt it was true. She tried to remember what she had read or seen on TV about Bucky Barnes. After Natasha Romanoff leaked HYDRA and SHIELD files there were investigative journalists who had been trying to find out more about this legendary assassin.

"You're really as old as they say you are?" she asked.

"I was born in 1917," he replied. "HYDRA kept me frozen between assignments so I barely aged. I'm still trying to sort out my memories from before but I remember a lot of what they did to me after the war. I wasn't a person to them. I was an ... asset, a weapon."

She began to gather the empty dishes from the table and he placed his right hand on one of hers. "Thank you for the meal," he said. "I hadn't eaten for some time. It will help my bullet wound heal faster."

His hand was hot, as if he had a fever and at first she was going to say something but she realized the heat was likely a byproduct of his treatment from HYDRA. It would explain how he could swim so far in cold water. She made an impulsive decision.

"You can stay for a while, Bucky," she offered, seeing him smile slightly as she used his name. "I have a spare room, although I'll have to change the sheets on the bed. This place is out of the way and no one should come looking for you here. I can check the internet and find a ship that's headed to Europe for you."

"Why would you do that for me?" he asked, puzzled. "You don't know me."

"Let's just say I empathize with your situation," she replied. "Everyone deserves a second chance. You're different than how they describe you."

"Okay," he agreed after being silent for some time. "Thank you, I'll stay for a while."

As she washed the dishes, he dried them and asked where they went. She put his washed clothes into the dryer and came back to see Bucky looking at the books on her shelf, holding one in his hand. He gestured to her Grandpa's LPs.

"You have some good music here," he noted.

She smiled and nodded her head. "They belonged to my Grandpa," she replied. "They kind of grew on me while I played them for him when he was dying."

Her face must have shown she was still grieving because he bowed his head slightly. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said. He raised the book he was holding. "You wrote this? Confessions of a Broken White Girl."

"My first," she replied. "It didn't sell a lot but it got some good reviews."

"Do you mind if I read it while I wait for my clothes to dry?"

"Go for it," she said, then headed outside to continue with the sanding of the window frames, tying the rag around her forehead again.

She sanded for some time then saw the flash of a silver hand reach for the sander and straightened up to see a fully dressed Bucky standing beside her. "I can do that for you," he offered. "It's a thankless job but my artificial hand can take more abuse than your hand can."

Handing him the sander she saw he was right. With his artificial hand he could put more pressure on it.

"Did you finish the book?" she asked.

"No, but I liked what I read of it," he said. "Reminded me a little of Virginia Woolf except for the fact she used stream of consciousness in her writing and yours was more straightforward."

"You've read Virginia Woolf?" she asked sceptically.

"I've read a lot," he replied. "I initially read some women writers to impress college girls before the war but I did get something out of it."

"You remember that?" Lacey said sarcastically. "What did you get out of it, sex?"

He laughed and his perfect smile was very prominent. "Touché," he said. "I'll admit that I had a bit of a reputation."

Lacey laughed as well. At least he was honest. He finished sanding all the windows and asked what he could do next. Before she could say he tensed and listened, tilting his head slightly.

"You have company," he said. "Several vehicles by the sounds of it. If you don't mind I'm going to make myself scarce but I'll be nearby. I just don't want to risk being caught."

"Go," she said decisively.

She turned towards the road and didn't even hear him leave. Picking up the hammer she started looking for loose nails on the railing and hammering them back in. About a minute after Bucky left three dark vehicles pulled up and several big men with dark suits and wearing sunglasses got out of each vehicle. As the others spread out over the property four approached her. One took his sunglasses off and showed her his ID.

"Lacey Williams?" he asked. "FBI. I'm Agent Dan Jones. Have you seen your brother Thomas recently?"

"He was here yesterday," she replied. "He stayed the night and left before I got up. He left me a note saying he was going to report to the FBI. What is this about?"

"May I see the note?" asked Agent Jones. "Please?"

She turned to go into the house and was aware that he and the other three men from his vehicle had followed her in. She had put the note on her desk and handed it to him. After he read it he looked at her again, then nodded at the other three who spread out.

"Now wait just a minute," she protested. "I've been truthful with you. If you're going to search my house I want to see a warrant."

He pulled a document out of his inner jacket pocket. "Did your brother say anything more?" he asked.

"I was going to tell you but this is bullshit," she said. "I'm calling a lawyer and I won't say anything until I speak to one."

"That is your right," he said. "Your brother is in a lot of trouble. There is a substantial amount of money missing and until we find your brother we're going to assume he stole it."

Lacey kept her face grim and dialled the lawyer who handled her grandfather's estate. When she explained what was happening he said he would be there right away. Fifteen minutes later the lawyer arrived and read over the warrant. Then he pulled Lacey into the bathroom. For a moment she panicked slightly when she saw the bullet and some bloody gauze from Bucky's wound in the small garbage can beside the sink. She blew her nose with a tissue and dropped it over the gauze.

"Did your brother say anything to you about the money?" asked the lawyer, drawing her attention.

"He said he was tricked into a money laundering scheme for the mob," she replied. "Then he said he transferred a large sum of money into a secret account so he could find the money trail. I told him to report it to the FBI and let them find the money trail. He left before I got up and wrote a note that he was going to the FBI with his story."

The lawyer took a deep breath. "If you want my advice I would tell them everything," he said. "If he's in trouble you need their help to get him out of it, especially if the mob is involved. If he's the one who is in the wrong, you need to distance yourself from him immediately."

Lacey swore, thought for a moment and made a decision. She left the bathroom and approached Agent Jones.

"My brother told me he was tricked into a money laundering scheme involving the mob," she said. "He admitted to transferring the money into a secret account in order to find the money trail. I have no idea of the account details. He said he would report to the FBI so that your forensic accountants could find the money trail. That's all I know. If he's being chased by the mob you need to find him first."

Jones looked grimly at her and took out his cell phone. "Put an APB out on Thomas Williams, as a material witness in a money laundering scheme," he said, then he paused. "Are you sure it's him? Okay, cancel the APB but I want his vehicle examined fully and the autopsy done as soon as possible." He hung up and looked at Lacey apologetically. "I'm sorry. Your brother was found dead in his car just half an hour ago. He had been shot in the head. It would appear that the mob found him before we did. I am sorry for your loss."

A roaring sound filled Lacey's ears and she stood there absorbing what Agent Jones had just told her. Tom, dead. She knew Jones was saying something to her but she had no idea what it was because the roaring sound blocked everything out. He looked at the lawyer, who helped her sit and kneeled in front of her.

"Lacey," he kept saying until she finally began to hear words again. "Lacey, did your brother say anything about the money laundering, what it involved?"

"No, except it was one of his colleagues that asked him to set it up," she said as she felt a lump begin to form in her throat. "He didn't say which one. I have to phone my mother."

"We already have two agents on their way to your mother's house," replied Jones. "We're going to finish searching your property and see if your brother left any clues here. Do you have someone who can stay with you?" She nodded, remembering Bucky was nearby. "Good. I would suggest you keep on the lookout for any strange vehicles or people that approach you or your property. If you do notice anything please call me directly. Whoever your brother crossed is going to want their money."

He handed her his card and she took it. Absently she sat on the couch for the next two hours, watching but not really observing the agents search the inside of her house. She did note they didn't go into the bathroom. When the FBI was finished with their search Agent Jones again expressed his sympathies. Then he ordered his men to leave and the lawyer went with them, leaving her alone with just the sound of the birds outside.

Chapter 2>>

Series masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging. Comments appreciated.

[hannahbarberra162]

Not a request, just a lil ramble, feel free to ignore :3 I LOVE your writing sm, I cant even start gimme a minute- Like, when I was reading Under The Microscope, I couldnt guess what was going to happen next, but it made such a satisfying click in my mind when I put the pieces together. PHENOMENAL foreshadowing, and its Sabo so automatically my favorite :P CLOSE RUNNER UP is Opposites of Attraction, I was giggling through the whole thing. I love it when reader characters arent helpless little wimps, and (ofc do what you want with your writing, ill love it either way, but) I really hope reader gets to kick Kid's ass in some way LMAO Anyway, im done now, have a good day :D

Thank you so much jk--47!!! I've had kind of a trash day and coming back to such kind words makes me feel a lot better. The problem with having so many works that are ongoing is that now it takes a while to get back to each one to update....😅

Sabo is a favorite of mine too - I'm writing the next chapter of UTM now and I hope to be done by the end of the week. I'm also starting this Yan Sabo / childhood friend AU request from an ask I received so there will be more Sabo to come (eventually). The MC in Opposites would absolutely LOVE to kick Kid's ass. She's going to have to get creative due to their compatible devil fruits but she didn't become an infamous mercenary without having a few tricks up her sleeves. She's still mad at Kid, one night in a bed won't change anything since he did, yanno, let her get hypothermia in the rain. If you don't like wounded birds (which, I do like / tend to write) you could also try Heat Transfer. It's WBP with a reader who can hold her own. You could also try Struck Twice by Lightning which is second chance romance with Shanks. They don't physically fight but the reader doesn't put up with Shanks's shenanigans all that well. Crocodile's Gambit might fit too - mc isn't a fighter but she certainly battles Crocodile (and usually wins). So I do have some like that.

Thank you so so much for the compliments, they really made my day <3 <3 <3

[zhiroaesthetics]

Mid-Summer Writing Updates

Was told that giving updates about non-major works is also valid to prove that this page is alive so...teehee!

Mental Check

To say that I've been slacking this year is a grave understatement. It frustrates me because posting in December 2023 (Kaveh) then January 2024 (Haruaki) truly made me believe that I had found my groove, then I saw my stats and gave up, yay! It's just hard writing when I already don't have the healthiest approach towards writing (it's really bad, like I cried so much writing both of those drafts), and that level of effort goes unnoticed by both the audience and myself. But I've slowly been accepting the fact that I can't gain the audience I want if I don't prove that I exist. After all, posting since 2021(?) but not even having ten entries is silly. With that being said, I have been writing consistently over the summer, but have been slowed down because I've been active, like this is the first week that I've been in my room this entire month.

Goals for Pre-Fall 2024

I'm definitely going to have at least three posts before the end of the year. I always try to have more than the year prior, and considering how little I have to my name, it's been pretty doable.

I've been going back and forth between Bowman (Granblue Fantasy) and Kyo (King of Fighters) for the past two months, and I know for the latter that his second draft is going to be posted before fall, though I'm not sure about the former. My writer's block on his draft isn't the worst despite the fact that I have to rewrite the first half of what I currently have, but I struggle trying to prioritize that draft over Kyo's given that I don't know how well a NSFW Bowman entry would be perceived. Regardless, if I post twice before Late August, expect for it to be these two bums.

Goals for Fall 2024

This is tricky, as it HIGHLY DEPENDS on what I end up fixating on, but definitely expect Tai Gong Wang (Fate/Grand Order). I've been wanting to write him since the beginning of time, but lack of knowledge on his character thanks to me exclusively playing FGO on the global server and things implied under mental check made it hard for me to prioritize writing the idea that was practically given to me. But what was initially supposed to be a collector's item ended up being NP3 and LVL 100, so I'm taking it as a sign to - at some point - lock in, and I think doing so right after clearing out my current drafts would be perfect timing.

Do, however, look out for these people:

Blade (Honkai: Star Rail)

Diluc (Genshin Impact)

Charlemagne (Fate)

Goals for Winter 2024/5

Yae Miko. Despite her being a December 2024 goal, she's one of my more ambitious projects due to research and it not being a one chapter entry. Even as I'm currently working on Kyo and Bowman, I'm immersing myself within The Pillow Book, as Sei's story is what most of Yae Miko's story will be in reference to. Also Haruaki, again, hopefully January 1st.

Do, however, look out for these people:

Kaveh (Genshin Impact)

Saichi Sugimoto (Golden Kamuy)

Miscellaneous

Girl if you saw how far I made it into my Senji draft, when I started, and when I stopped, you'd be wondering why my #1 isn't in any of my defined goals. And I'd say shit happens! Senji's draft had a very extensive outline, and I lost that very extensive outline, so I lost my motivation yay! Nevertheless, I still want to get it out there because I think it's a really funny one chapter entry.

Also Toji. Very much an outlier, but I've been putting him on the backburner because his draft is also one of my more ambitious projects, but one that challenges my writing skills in a duller way because of the amount of mundane scenes present. Also not a one chapter entry.

Anyways uh, thanks for peeping the yap session, meow!

[demonslayedher]

How do you think Obanai (and my favorite little dude, Kaburamaru) interacted/got along with all the other hashira realistically on a daily basis? Like did he actually enjoy being around any of the other hashira and talking with them? Did he consider himself to be close with any of them besides Mitsuri? We've never really gotten a look at the daily life of Obanai (or any other Hashira for that matter) and how he feels about any of them, besides the tiny bit in the fan book, so I think this would be an interesting topic. He has such a complex personality due to his backstory, which really changes how he interacts as well. This question is kind of just asking what you personally think, feel free to answer it however you would like. I really love how you realistically analyze the characters so I would love to get your opinion on this :) Thank you for all the awesome content!

Thank you for reading and enjoying the analysis! Let's dive into Iguro, especially his relationships with others!

Iguro is one of those characters who didn’t capture my interest for a long time, especially because I was so worked up over the raging battle with Muzan and Tanjiro’s condition that when I got the weekly update that was Iguro’s backstory, I was like, “no, not this! Keep the story going!! AAAAHH! I waited a week to see what happens next!” I still feel like that timing was a disservice to his character, as I didn’t digest his complexity until much later (speaking of digesting, I never liked the design of the snake demon lady in the first place, as she felt comically evil for her baby-eating and contrived torture of “save this one and make him look more like me” approach).

And he truly is a complex character, and once that clicked for me, he’s remained as interesting to me as everyone else in the cast. Part of the reason he doesn’t stand out as much as first is because the interesting sides of him are subtle, as opposed to the surface level stripes, bandages, heterochromia, and snake buddy. But, all those factors together certainly make for an impactful design. And hanging out up the tree and judging people, really, what a statement of an entrance.

Since the first appearances we get of Iguro all showcase his tendency toward harsh judgement of others, it’s easy to type-cast him as grumpy and hateful, unless you happen to be Mitsuri, whom he likes enough to bequeath socks to. Sure, even, the most grouchy of and touchy of people can have a crush and gain a soft spot for someone; this made Obamitsu initially not very interesting to me too. Like, yeah, duh, of course he likes Mitsuri, who wouldn’t like her, I love her, and because I love her I guess I can’t help but like Iguro too because I want her to be happy.

Which just kind of brought out my frustration with him. Why can’t you get over yourself and just let her be happy!? She doesn’t care about your “tainted blood,” man, just let her love on you!! You’ll BOTH be so-o-o-o-o much happier, dummy!!

These being my feelings, I was twice as irritated with the Iguro backstory chapter appearing where it did. However, there was still some time before the final chapters were published, and this gave me more time to spend with Iguro in the context of fighting alongside Tanjiro, and going in as a Muzan-sized choking hazard. And then I had a vivid dream one morning about an AU in which he and Mitsuri were, in fact, married with small children, but due to a brain injury, they had a 50 First Dates sort of situation in which Mitsuri still thought they were in the “friends but not lovers” stage and Iguro was doing his best to care for the children (who missed their mother as they knew her but did their best to be understanding) as well as keep Mitsuri blissfully unaware so she wouldn’t be sad that she forgot about her children. In true KnY style, this had Tanjiro finding out by accident around the time of Pillar Training, and being shocked (and thinking it’d be kinder to let Mitsuri know she actually does have a happy marriage), and Iguro warning Tanjiro to back off and pretend he saw nothing. And then, after this emotionally involved dream, I woke up and immediately saw spoilers that Obamitsu was canon! They confessed love to each other and promised to get married! And then died. So yeah, that was quite a morning for me. And then after the Obamitsu shock I saw spoilers about dead!Tanjiro, so yeah, that was quite a morning.

So then where did this take me later? Ah, yes, I took an interest in Kaburamaru’s origins first, and this was my backdoor to pondering more about Iguro’s past. I remained interested in Kaburumaru’s origins and went to visit those snakes in person, and I wholeheartedly love those snakes now, especially the one who came up to the glass to say hello to me. I love you, little snake out there in Iwakuni.

While thinking more about the island (not exactly a place you’d expect to find rich people) and family upbringing is intriguing, what truly interests me about Iguro is his emotional complexity. The fact that poetry is his pastime (including senryu, which have more flexibility for cynicism) is what really got me. He’s not just a ball of hate sitting up there in the trees judging people, he’s appreciating the beauty of nature too, d’aaaaw. His personality is as striped as his haori!

However, he doesn’t seem like the type to express any of his sensitivities, he doesn’t mind that people generally only see him for his harsher side. Maybe he doesn’t hide his sensitive interior world, but he lacks people with whom to share those bittersweet appreciations for life put into elegant form. Sure, this awareness makes him look at Mitsuri for her natural cheer and brightness, loving her exactly for who she is, but she’s kind of bubbly and bad with words so she probably wouldn’t make a conversation partner for poetry appreciation. Again, it seems like a private activity for him, so I don’t think this would make him sad in any way.

However, as he prefers not to talk about himself and these interests, that makes his relationships with others very interesting, and I had a lot of fun with writing a short fic from his perspective to dive into more of these aspects of his character. I’ve found it fascinating that he and Uzui ever would have found themselves in a conversation about their pasts (as described the second fanbook), and I had a mad, mad desire to see how that ever would have happened, and what would had prompted it and made them feel inclined to put their trauma on display to each other. Not that I think they’d have been buddy-buddy after an experience like that, but at least open and frank with one another (clearly, Iguro feels his relationship with Uzui is one in which he can say, “you can’t retire, but good job on the lowest of the Upper Moons, I guess”). In this fic I also had Iguro meet Oyakata-sama, whom, among the whole cast, I suspect would have the best understanding of Iguro’s sensitive side.

The next most likely character to see this is Himejima, as he’s sensitive to everyone’s sensitives, as evidenced in the second fanbook. What with Iguro’s deep respect for Himejima, I don’t think Iguro would trouble with conversations about anything more than typical Pillar duties, though. I say respect because Iguro’s black-and-white judgements of others are based on how reliable he finds him, and he finds Himejima reliable. He wouldn’t say that about just anyone. It also squeezes my heart to picture him having a relationship with Kyojuro that goes far back, in any range of what sort of relationship this was. For instance, if Iguro stayed at the Rengoku estate initially and little Kyojuro was actively involved in Iguro’s care, that means Kyojuro probably kept a vested interest in Iguro getting stronger and learning Breath technique and passing the Final Selection and climbing the ranks, and this might had looked like checking in with him on a friendly basis once or twice a year. Or, perhaps their encounter in childhood was brief, and Iguro was initially embarrassed when he ran into Kyojuro later who happily inquired about his health and acquisition of Breath technique, and Iguro might had been a bit shy as first because Kyojuro KNOWS his past and how frail and helpless he was a child. However, what with Kyojuro having such a bright and cheerful personality like Mitsuri’s, he’d probably feel as ease with him very soon.

His relationships with Shinobu and Muichiro seem purely professional. He wouldn’t want to spend much time with Shinobu in the first place purely on the basis of gender, but he wouldn’t dislike her for it, and his respect for her is genuine (she’d probably be the most likely to appreciate poetry in the same vein as him, though). For Muichiro, I love that he has concern for him, but he would respect Muichiro’s skills in a way that wouldn’t make him feel like he needs to keep an eye out for his wellbeing like he does for Mitsuri, on account of Mitsuri not always being as level-headed as she should in battle. I like to imagine that instead of feeling inadequate seeing Muichiro’s genius levels of skill, Iguro instead has observed it here and there, and realized aspects that he can incorporate into his own short-person swordsmanship.

Okay, but speaking of my own fics again, and seeing as this one was purely for indulgent Pillar interactions, I had SOOO MUCH FUN making Iguro the second most uncomfortable person in this fic.

Iguro hating the sight of Giyuu is pure and simple hilarious to me. Moving on.

What I truly wish we could had seen more of is Iguro and Sanemi hanging out together; I imagine this looked like griping sessions about Giyuu following Pillar meetings. If Mitsuri brings out the white in Iguro’s personality, then Sanemi brings out the black. Sure, the black is always on display for everyone, it is the side of Iguro which best suits his Pillar duties, but in Sanemi’s presence, it’s not just professional, it’s fun. Venting is a bonding experience and they can both relax in each other’s presence with this, and I imagine that makes them open to hanging out in any other kind of context, too. They’d have that level of comfort with each other that, say, if anyone else approached Sanemi while he’s smiling and enjoying the company of a stray dog, he’d probably be embarrassed and defensive if approached by anyone else who might comment on that nice side of him, but if Iguro were to come up and say, “hmmm, so you like, dogs?” Sanemi would probably be like, “yeah, I love dogs” and continue enjoying the dog. Iguro, being at ease in Sanemi’s presence, may even be inclined to pet the dog too, even if he doesn’t connect with that animal as much as Sanemi does.

I also really, really love how Iguro’s complexity comes out in his treatment of Tanjiro. If it’s his choice, he has nothing to do with that annoying brat with the demon sister and who got him scolded by Oyakata-sama, and even worse, that brat is buddy-buddy with Mitsuri. However, in battle, that means nothing. He and Giyuu both are worthy comrades and Iguro treats them as realistically as the situation calls for, similarly to how he will admonish Mitsuri if that is what the battle requires. He can set aside his black personality with such ease that he can adapt to and sync with Tanjiro instantly, and this also means entirely setting aside the ire and accepting Tanjiro into the white side of his personality as soon as Tanjiro has gained his trust. Iguro’s a polite man who knows how to express his honest gratitude, too.

If he chooses to express himself, he does it well. It’s always a matter how of “if”, though.

Those who get to know the real Iguro, who are shown the multiple facets of his personality instead of only the professional ones, are few and chosen. Like how the stripes of his haori obfuscate his true form underneath, choosing when and how to reveal himself, to whom, is such a core part of Iguro’s character. He’s got a lot of self-knowledge, which also makes him able to read others well.

If he chooses to, anyway.  

EDIT: Forgot to add my take on Kaburamaru's interactions!! My take exactly is here in this fanart. Kaburamaru is friendly dude.

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Twenty Two

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends!!

Thank you so much for the love on this fic, it means so much!! I hope you still are enjoying it and would love to know what you think <3

Also, the flashbacks have kind of come full circle now, with most things that I wanted to cover in any previous time jumps covered. There will be flashbacks again in future chapters when relevant, but going forward there won't be one every chapter!

So, here's another, mostly, fluffy chapter...which I hope you enjoy and make the most of 😬

-x-

Words: 3k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along. Please note that more warnings have been added.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily straightens her dress, pulling at the material that was laying over her stomach, looking at herself closely in the mirror. 

“You can’t tell.” 

She turns to look at Aaron, smiling tightly at him before she looks at her reflection again, “She’s critical of everything, Aaron,” she says, blowing out a steady breath, “I don’t want her to be able to tell just by looking at me.” 

She was nervous to tell her mother that was pregnant, feeling every bit as terrified as she had been at the prospect of her finding out back in Rome even though the circumstances couldn’t be more different. Elizabeth had always found a way of making her feel bad about things that made her happy, and she didn’t want to feel anything other than joy about this. It was part of the reason why they were telling her before Jack or the team, so they could get the, hopefully, last potentially negative reaction out of the way before they could tell people who would be happy for them. 

Aaron walks over and wraps his arms around her from behind, his palms on her stomach and his chin resting on her shoulder, “She won’t be able to see it,” he says, turning his head to kiss her neck, smiling against her skin as she rests her hand over his on her abdomen, “I can see it,” he says, kissing her neck again, “But that’s only because I’m intimately familiar with what you look like naked.” 

She chuckles, and turns in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Is that right?” She asks teasingly stamping her lips against his.

“I take my research very seriously.” 

She shakes her head at him and leans in to kiss him, but is interrupted when her phone rings from where she’d thrown it onto the bed when she came upstairs to get ready for the evening. She detaches herself from Aaron to pick it up and frowns when she sees her mother’s name on the screen, sighing as she shows it to Aaron. 

“I hope she isn’t cancelling again,” she says, frowning as she looks down at the phone, “I don’t like being the one to insist we get together.” 

Dinner had already been rearranged twice at Elizabeth’s request. Both times had been short notice, a call coming through like this just before they were due to leave their apartment. It was usually the other way around, a case pulling Emily and Aaron away from an arrangement they’d made weeks prior. Something about Elizabeth cancelling on them made Emily feel uneasy. She couldn’t name it, couldn’t figure out why it made her stomach twist for an entirely different reason than the morning sickness that had plagued her for weeks now. 

She sighs and answers the phone, putting it on speaker so Aaron can hear too, “Mother, hi, we were about to leave.” 

“I’m sorry to do this again Emily, but I’m going to have to cancel I’m afraid,” Elizabeth says, and Emily closes her eyes, sighing as she sits on the bed, followed by Aaron who puts his arm around her. 

“Mother-”

“It’s not like you haven’t cancelled before, Emily,” she says, cutting over anything Emily could have said, defensive before she needs to be, “I work too.” 

“I know you do,” Emily says, shaking her head as she looks at Aaron, “But…this is the third time in two weeks.” 

Elizabeth sighs down the phone, the sound followed by a glass being put down, and Emily can picture the look on her face, the barely covered irritation she’d grown up surrounded by. 

“And why is it so important we get together, Emily?” 

Emily looks at Aaron, and he smiles at her, a slight nod letting her know without words that it was up to her, that she could say whatever she wanted to and he’d support her. Just like he always did. 

“I…I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” she starts, and Aaron pulls her closer, his hand on her shoulder as he kisses the side of her head, “But I’m pregnant. 11 weeks along.” 

She braces herself. Prepares herself for disappointment or derision. The few seconds of silence that follow her reveal feel like they last forever, and Emily is sure this is somehow worse than sitting across the table from her mother. At least in person, she’d be able to read her. Her emotions clear even if Emily was never entirely sure what her motivations were. Her mother a book she’d never been able to completely decipher. 

“Oh,” Elizabeth replies, before clearing her throat, “Does this mean you’ll actually be having the wedding soon?” 

Emily rolls her eyes and Aaron squeezes her shoulder again, another silent show of his support at her mother’s lacklustre, but also predictable, reaction, “No, mother. We’re going to wait until after the baby comes.” 

It was something they’d agreed on shortly after they found out she was pregnant, neither one of them wanting the stress of a wedding and planning one before the baby arrived. Part of her wanted to elope. To go somewhere just her, Aaron and Jack and get married. Being able to call him her husband, to be able to say she was his wife, was what was important to her. Not a day surrounded by everyone she knew, and many she didn’t if her mother had something to do with it, because that was what tradition insisted she did. 

She’d never been one for tradition anyway. 

Elizabeth sighs, “Emily-”

“Please don’t argue with me on this,” she says, leaning her head against Aaron, “It’s my decision.” 

“I was going to say congratulations,” Elizabeth says, her words always merging into one as she uncharacteristically trips over them before clearing her throat, “You’ll make a fantastic mother.” 

“Oh,” Emily says, tilting her head to look at Aaron, furrowing her brows, “Thank you.” 

There’s a moment of silence before Elizabeth speaks again, a rare moment of vulnerability between mother and daughter gone as quickly as it had bloomed, “I should go, but we will re-arrange again soon. Tell Aaron I said congratulations too.” 

“Of course,” Emily says, staring at the phone in confusion as she exchanges goodbyes with her mother, still frowning at her phone as she hangs up, “That was…odd,” she says as she looks at Aaron, “Not at all what I expected,” she licks her lips before sinking her teeth into her lower one, “Did she seem…ok to you?” 

An old, yet familiar, feeling creeps up her neck. Something she thought she and her mother had put to bed years ago rearing its ugly head. Distrust and concern she’d run away from after the physical scar she bore from her mother’s choices had healed. 

“She seemed happy for you, for us,” he says, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, pushing his own concerns down, not wanting to make her worry in case his instinct was incorrect, his own past making him hyper-sensitive. 

She smiles tightly and nods, swallowing thickly as she pushes her fears down, blowing out a slow breath as she convinces herself she’s wrong, shaking it off as if she’d never thought it at all. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” she briefly presses her forehead into his, “Now we’re all dressed up with nowhere to go.” 

He kisses her and pulls back, cupping her cheek, “What do you and baby want for dinner?” 

She chuckles and looks down at her stomach as if the baby could answer, before she looks back at him, “Tacos. We want tacos.” 

Aaron kisses her once more before he stands up, offering her his hand to help her up too, “Taco’s it is.” 

___

“We’re the first ones here.” 

Emily glares at her fiance as she hands him her go bag, watching as he places it in the overhead storage on the jet, “Of course we are,” she complains, not even trying to stop the yawn that escapes her, “You wouldn’t know how to lay in if you tried.” 

The call had come in early, but he’d told the team to meet at the jet at 9 am, the flight to where they were heading in New York only a short one. Despite that, he’d got out of bed anyway and Emily had struggled to get back to sleep without him next to her despite her exhaustion. 

“It’s better than getting caught in traffic,” he says, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

She hums, “That’s easy for the man who’s allowed to have caffeine to say,” she grumbles, the mere thought of coffee turning her stomach. 

He doesn’t miss the way she groans as he sits down, and he reaches out for her hand, squeezing her fingers, “You ok?” 

She nods, grimacing as she briefly covers her mouth, “I think part of me really hoped I’d wake up in my second trimester and feel immediately better.” 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

She smiles but feels a familiar lurch in her stomach and she turns, rushing for the bathroom as quickly as she can, unable to acknowledge how he calls after her that he’ll make her some of her mint tea.

She makes it just in time, the breakfast Aaron had forced her to eat repeating on her in a way that makes her briefly hate him. She groans as she spits into the toilet, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she tries to breathe in and out slowly, giving herself a few moments to make sure that the nausea has passed before she stands up, closing the lid and pressing the flush before she turns to look at herself in the mirror. She blows out a breath and shakes her head, washing her hands and drying them quickly. She places her hand on her belly, smiling to herself as she feels the small bump that is more bloating than anything else. 

“You’d better be cute,” she grumbles, looking at herself in the mirror once more before she unlocks the door and walks into the main cabin, “This kid is going to be the death of me,” she says, clearing her throat, “I thought the nausea was supposed to go away after the first trimester…” She drifts off as she looks up, her words catching in her throat as she comes face to face with the whole team, including Penelope, all of whom had arrived on the jet whilst she was in the bathroom throwing up what felt like everything she’d ever eaten. “Fuck.” 

For a moment, that is all too brief, there is silence. Blissful silence as the team stare back and forth, wide-eyed, between her and Aaron, who was sat frozen in place where she’d left him, a cup of mint tea and some chewing gum on the table in front of her seat that hadn’t been there when she’d dashed to the bathroom. Any lingering resentment she may have felt towards him for making her eat breakfast disappear, once again replaced by adoration for him and how well he loved her and the baby. 

“Oh. My. God,” Penelope exclaims, squealing as she breaks the silence, standing up as she throws her arms around Emily, “You’re pregnant?” She asks, squeezing her tightly, almost lifting her from the floor. 

“Yes,” Emily says, laughing as she hugs her friend back, “Yes I am,” she says, her smile turning into a grimace, “But please put me down otherwise I’ll throw up on you.” 

“Oh god,” Penelope says as she lets her go, “Of course. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Emily says as she breathes deeply as soon as she has some room again. She slips into the seat next to Aaron and smiles apologetically at him, a small of his head and a sparkle in his eye the only response she receives, “This isn’t how we planned on telling all of you,” she admits, slipping a piece of gum from the packet Aaron had left out for her, as she looks at her friends, their shock giving way to obvious happiness for them. “But yes, I am pregnant.” 

Aaron places his hand on her thigh and squeezes tightly, exchanging a smile with her as their friends all congratulate them, the happy response to their happy news that he knew she’d wanted from the start. The response she deserved. 

He felt guilt that he could never quite shake whenever he thought of Haley’s reaction to Emily’s pregnancy, to the idea of him being a father again with someone else. He knew it wasn’t easy, and knew himself well enough to know he likely wouldn’t react well if things were the other way around. If Haley had been the one to move on already. The one building a new family. 

As much as he understood, he also understood Emily’s irritation that she always had to consider someone else's feelings whenever she had something good happen to her. He’d mentioned once, the same night she’d told him about what Haley had said to her, that she’d have had it easier if she’d fallen in love with someone with less baggage than him. She’d gotten mad at him. She’d pulled away and glared at him, her eyes shining with tears as she told him to never say something like that again. That loving him and Jack was worth everything that came with it - the good and the bad and everything in between. 

The questions come in full force when Emily is settled down, and she’s grateful the team at least gave her the chance to get comfortable first. 

“How far along are you?��

“When did you find out?” 

“Why haven’t you told us yet?” 

Emily chuckles at the barrage of questions, all overlapping each other as they all speak at once, all of them settling down as the jet is prepared for takeoff. 

“I’m 12 weeks along,” she says, unable to fight her smile getting any wider at the thought of the new scan photo tucked into her purse. “We found out when I was in that car crash in December.” 

Aaron squeezes her leg a little tighter at the memory of it, and she places her hand over his to link their fingers together. 

“I knew you were at the hospital longer than usual,” Dave says, leaning back in his chair and Aaron shakes his head.

“No, you didn’t,” Aaron deadpans, and the team all laugh, Derek patting Dave’s shoulder with fake sympathy. 

“Ok, no I didn’t,” he admits, shrugging in defeat, “You two are worryingly good at keeping secrets.” 

“We rarely have anything just to ourselves,” Emily says, “Which is why we decided to keep it that way for a while.” 

“Were you trying?” JJ asks, her eyes sparkling with joy, excited for her friend, and at the prospect of having a baby to spoil that wasn’t hers. Her question makes Derek groan, everyone’s attention turning to him. 

“Don’t ask them that, I don’t want to think about them having sex.” He says, and Emily rolls her eyes and kicks him under the table, raising her eyebrow when he looks affronted, “I’m happy for you Princess, but I really don’t like to imagine you and Hotch doing the dirty.” 

“Then you probably shouldn’t go into the bathroom at O’Shea’s next time we go there for a drink,” she replies, and his disgust visibly deepens. Aaron sighs next to her but chooses not to say anything as she laughs. She turns to look at JJ and nods, “Yes, we were.” 

JJ smiles and looks at Spencer, stopping herself from laughing at the look on his face, his confusion evident, “Are you ok, Spence? You’ve been very quiet.”

“Am I going to have to explain sex to you again?” Derek asks, smirking, “When a man and a woman love each other very much-”

“I know what sex is, Morgan,” Spencer replies, cutting him off, “I’m an adult,” he looks back at Emily and Aaron, “I’m just confused why everyone is surprised that Emily is pregnant. I thought it was obvious.” 

“What does that mean?” Emily asks, her eyebrows furrowing and her eyes narrowing, unsure if she was impressed or annoyed by the fact Spencer had apparently already known. 

“Well, you haven’t had a period in quite some time-”

“You track that?” Penelope asks, her mouth falling open as she exchanges a look with Emily and JJ, “Little creepy, boy genius.” 

“It’s a pattern, I’m good at recognising patterns,” he explains, “Plus Emily had a nosebleed at work and that is a fairly common, although not well-known, symptom in the first trimester. And her-” 

“That’s enough, Reid,” Aaron says, cutting him off with a glare as Spencer indicates towards Emily’s chest. Spencer nods and swallows thickly, making the rest of them smother a laugh before Aaron carries on, “I’m sure you’ve all got a lot of questions, but we are at work and this is a short flight. I want us to be prepared when we get there.” 

Emily looks up at him as the rest of the team murmurs their agreement, the sound of shuffling paper as they open their casefiles filling the cabin. They exchange a smile, and his hand shifts from her thigh to press his palm against her belly, an all too brief moment between the two of them before they carried on with the rest of their day. 

She half pays attention as the rest of the team talks over the case, half distracted by nausea that creeps back up her throat as the jet takes off, half by the image of her future that got clearer by the day. The colours bright and beautiful, bursting to life in front of her. 

-x-

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[flowermountainpress]

Embers & To-do list (progress update)

February 24

(Cross-posted from Patreon)

I folded and am about to awl Embers-- vol 1-- my husband's birthday present for next month. I noticed so many mistakes on the typesetting, which is from May of 2023. The good news? I don't have to go through the painstaking process of changing the word doc, exporting the PDF, imposing it, downloading it, and printing again-- I can just live with the issues!

Mainly a spacing issue in the first chapter, all the new chapter pages having left-aligned page numbers, and a weird issue with the drop cap spacing. All things I can live with.

Unfortunately the margins are fucked. Plenty of top and bottom and even fore edge margin for me to trim, but it's going to be very slightly awkward on the inner margins due to the sewing. Still perfectly readable, though.

I didn't print a test signature BECAUSE I wasn't willing to change anything (long ass process described above) and I'm happy to live with the mistakes *because* this is something that's not leading my house.

I reread a small bit but caught myself... XD Embers has incredible re-readability so it's a great choice to bind.

After I get stabby, I'm gonna press the signatures overnight to reduce swell. Then sew! Typesetting, which used to be easy to me, is recently a pain in my ass. I find that with doing my day job on the computer (temporary work from home situation) and doing college on the computer, I don't wanna fucking touch it for bookbinding. The practical side of things, however, is nice. I wish I was past the typesetting stage on any of my "owed" projects; the two free paperbacks folks won (Domino and Mouse's).

I've included a picture of my silly to do list that let's me visually track progress on these projects. The first free paperback was easy because it was a fic I'd bound before. Only minor adjustments needed. I'm going to think long and hard about doing so many at once, ever again! Haha. It would have been fine if not compounded by the holidays and IRL work issues, actually-- but I've found it's the height of foolishness to make plans based on my *top* speed at completion things. Fall of last year, I was breezing by everything, and getting everything done soso fast!

Hopefully after this hill, and the break I plan on taking that I can see in the distance, I'll be able to be Speedy™️ once again.

As an aside, I can't remember if I mentioned, all the stickers and bookmarks (and tea and earrings) were mailed out earlier in the week, so February prizes are a bit early this month! Enjoy!

Domino project: 2/20

Mouse: 0/20

Embers: 6/20

Technological struggles: I bought affinity publishing last year when it was on sale, but this week when i tried to upgrade to using it instead of Word for typesetting (high learning curve but highlt recommended program for bookbinding), it crashed twice. The "why" is not a mystery. My laptop has been operating at almost maximum disc space, memory, and cpu, so I drug out my older but nicer laptop.

Re-installed a clean copy of the operating system, ordered a new battery, and have been slowly working my way over. It's a more heavy duty machine and despite being older, has better specs. So that's also been slowing me down. Every time I have spoons to do typesetting (or write), I run headfirst into these difficulties, and by the time I've made progress there, the spoons are gone.

However, slow and steady progress IS being made. I've pretty much vowed to keep trucking on with Word until I finish my current roster of projects, then fuck around with Affinity when I get 5 seconds.

Anyway, long post! Many update. Some progress.

[flfverse]

i love promising things and not following up. it’s awesome. superrrrr cool. anyway, little life/fic update for you all. it’s 4am, please bear with me.

i wanted to wait to do this until i had more work done so i could drop snippets and have an actual date for the hiatus to end, but you know.

to be honest, the brain? is not great. where’s the halloween meme. mental is hocus. health not pocus. etc etc. and the thing is i have a support system of sorts, therapy, all that good stuff. i also have, like, four or five mental illnesses. and because of the logistics of College, none of my support system is actually physically nearby most of the time. so. that kinda sucks. <3 i miss people. horrified to discover i might actually be an extrovert and just anxious.

but you know, ups and downs. this week, or at least this weekend, we’re on an up, which is good. the shitty part is, this time last year i coped by writing so, so much fanfiction. truly, look at my ao3 september-december 2022. wild.

and i just. can’t really write these days, for whatever reason. not easily. and it sucks! because i love this story! i want to tell it so bad! but the initial hyperfixation has worn off and my motivation to do anything at all is a bit….how do you say….nonexistent. so like. halfhearted cheers. sorry.

the best timeline i can give right now is this: i have a fandom trumps hate auction due december 31st. it’s about half done. that is obvs first priority (after silly things like school and work) because there are actual material consequences if i don’t finish. i am also launching something original in january, if i can get myself together enough to do so. i think i will. i’m mostly ready (and hey, my main is in my pinned if queer fantasy pirates sounds up your alley?).

and also, there’s FLFverse. i would really like to get back to posting before the year is up, but :/ not sure. definitely want to by january. i’m not sure if i’ll be able to keep up with two chapters a month or if i’ll have to drop to one or something even more sporadic than that.

hey, be honest, would you rather wait longer for me to build a backlog for regular updates, or get the ball rolling sooner but with no schedule?

we have a poll now i guess. it’s seriously 4am and i’m about to go back to making paper mache bones on the floor, mkay. don’t ask me to be normal.

so anyway. that’s the update. i wish it was more positive. if you made it all the way to the end and want to toss an ask, a little prompt, a question, whatever, that would be very cool. i think i have a chill week coming up and i miss this ‘verse a ton, wouldn’t mind some dopamine.

[eirian-houpe]

TMI Tuesday

Welcome to Tuesday.

So, today, I’m putting myself out there emotionally, and posting one of these for the first time in many, many weeks. I made a post last week, and I’ve also seen several posts recently about the whole “engagement” issue, and - sensitive soul that I am - I’ve been feeling the effects of that lack quite acutely of late.

I’m not sharing this angling for sympathy, but to point out to some (after reading comments on the last engagement post about not reading unfinished fics etc.) that the whole, ‘I’m too busy to waste my time/energy engaging in reading fics that have been abandoned, or are not updated in a timely manner, (for some measured in ‘weeks’ between posts), just doesn’t cut it. 

I’m entirely unapologetic about that call out, and here’s why:

I (as many other fic writers) work a full time job that is a) very stressful, and b) extremely time consuming even outside of ‘working hours.’ add to that, I have a family to take care of, and often don’t have the hours it takes to plan, write, edit and post a chapter of any given fic, on every day of a given week.  So yeah, it will often be weeks - maybe even months - between posting a new chapter.

The expectation of a fast turnaround between fic chapters is - frankly - entitled, and shows a complete lack of empathy and respect for fandom creators (writers, artists, videographers, gif makers, etc.)   Knowing that. feeling that from fellow members of your fandom is demoralizing, and contributes to lack of inspiration, lack of excitement, and a sense of “why do I bother?” - not just for me, but for many fandom creators.  Creators are real people with real lives and real issues, just as readers are.

Additionally, fandom is about community and if we’re not supporting our fellows in fandom, where is that community? Writers supporting writers, (creators supporting creators), has dropped off too, which is perhaps as big a blow as any other lack of engagement.  Is it really so hard to send a fellow creator an ask once a week? 

"We rise by lifting others." - Robert Ingersoll

We keep fandom active by behaving as a community, and not blindly adopting the “I’m all right, Jack,” attitude when our own engagement is high; by turning a blind eye to all of our fellow creators lack in that respect.

I know, I know, I sound like a tired old broken record, but wake up and smell the decay, peeps. A fandom is only as vibrant as the least included and inspired member of that fandom, and I don’t think any of us want to see the Rumbelle fandom pass into nothingness, and right now, our creators are being ‘driven’ to other fandoms over Rumbelle due to feeling that no one cares.

And don’t get me started on the ‘hate,’ that’s been an issue for some people. That, my friends, is TOTALLY UNACCEPTABLE.

Okay - rant over. (sorry/not sorry).

Here’s what I’ve been doing this month:

The biggest thing for me this month has been Camp Nano.  For those unfamiliar, NaNoWriMo also runs a ‘camp’ twice a year, in April and July. Writers set their own word count goals during these months and endeavor to write each day during those months.  I’ve been working on a number of fics during Camp Nano, and I’m very close to achieving the modest goal I set for myself for this camp. (15,000 words). I have worked on Disparate Pathways, Time’s Curse, Storybrooke’s Best Kept Secret, Still Waters (Lover’s Leap Series), Secret of the Seas, and a couple of other new WiPs that just wouldn’t stay quiet.  You can ask about any of those fics if you’d like.

Otherwise, here are some other suggestions for you…

Ask suggestions

Ask something about any of my fics (full list is below the cut). If you want specifics from some fics that are already outlined, you can ask about:

Disparate Pathways, Chapters 53 through 57 All Our Past Mistakes, Chapters 11 through 44 Lover’s Leap Series, Stories 15 through 31 Time’s Curse, Chapters 5 through 10 Laer o Faen, Chapter 27 & 28 Stargate: Atlantis, Harms Way or any of the 20 fics in the series.

Ask something of any of my characters in general or you can get really specific if you like - for example you might want to ask Gold from Pawn Shop a question about a chapter, a thought, a feeling… (the world is your oyster really)

Ask about my process as a writer, what makes me tick,, or even ask about me personally. Almost nothing is off limits.

Also, if you want to see a specific character or fic featured in Three Things Thursday, or Saturday Secret, feel free to send in prompts, if no one does, then either the choice will be random or they just won’t happen at all. I made an analogy for why that might be in a different post about a car stuck in the mud with spinning wheels. Those wheels are still spinning!

Please remember: if you read a fic you enjoyed on AO3 or on Tumblr (not just mine), please take the time to comment and/or leave kudos, and to reach out on TMI Tuesday. It means a lot to the writers and artists.

You can find all my fics currently on AO3 here, and there is a full list under this cut.

Storybrooke’s Best Kept Secret - Rumbelle

Darkness In Hyperion Heights - Woven Beauty au

Seven Tastes - Rumbelle

Tuesday - Rushbelle AU

The Language of Flowers Series - Rumbelle

Disparate Pathways - Rumbelle AU

Scattered - Rumbelle AU

All Our Past Mistakes - Rumbelle AU

What the Actual Fuck! - Sutherelle

Breathe - Rushbelle

The Lover’s Leap Series - Rumbelle

Awakening - Rumbelle

War Is Coming To Storybrooke - Rumbelle

Given No Choice - Rush

Thoughts On A Happy Ending Series - Rumbelle

Darker Hearts Series - Wish!Rumbelle

Modern Wonders - a OUAT/Alice crossover

Time’s Curse - Rumbelle

The Pawn Shop On Main Street - Rumbelle

The Mansion On the Edge of Town - Rumbelle with a side of Jefferson

Cobra: In Your Prayers - Cobra/FatWS/UC:Undercover et al

To See Series - Rumbelle

Nobody Knew (Bingo) - Rumbelle

Secret of the Seas - Rumbelle AU

Butterfly and Phoenix - ST:DSC

Laer o Faen - Tolkien

Ship’s Rats - ST: DCS

I Amar Boe Men Heb - Tolkien

Coming Down - Halt and Catch Fire

Armor of Ice - Halt and Catch Fire

Duath i-Achas Eriol - Tolkien

Balance of Terror - Sleeper Cell

What To Believe - UC: Undercover

If: In The End - UC Undercover

Precious - The Mummy Series

Forbidden - The Mummy Series

Power Is - The Mummy Series

Angel of the Heart - The Mummy Series

Star of the Morning - The Mummy Series

Not Yours To Keep - Foundation (TV)

No Saving Throw - Stranger Things

ILP (or IEP) for Rumple.

“Only Remembered For What We Have Done.”

Here are fics that haven’t yet been started, but are in the Muse’s bucket.

The Miner’s Day Festival - Rumbelle

Aftermath - Rumbelle (with a side of madness)

Saving The Dark One (WT) A twist on a twist of Rumplestiltskin.

Brought To You By The Color… (Red)

Calcul(us)

(In)consistent equation

The Boston Storybrooke Line

Breaking the Waves (Movie AU)

One Last Wish

In Service to My Son

Playground Games

Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed

Librarian: UC

Exquisite Harmonies

Resolutions - Rushbelle in the Deck the Halls universe.

[arlecchno]

mission accomplished [ scaramouche x reader ]

eight | someone new

prev masterlist next

case has been going slow, and you suddenly met someone new after a month of being in campus, resulting in you becoming friends with them. signora is highly concerned about you, making her question on your twisted relationship with scaramouche.

warnings: mentions of blood, swearing (as usual), spoilers for signora’s real name, i think that’s it

a/n: uh huh this chapter came pretty late… 😔 i know i said that i’d update twice a week but i don’t think i can do that due to my writer’s block so i might change it to once a week,, and this chapter is kinda short too,, sorry y’all 💔 i hope you’re enjoying the series at least 🥲 happy reading!

grammatical errors may occur so please let me know if i've made any mistakes!

the past few weeks have been a bit slow and boring for you. classes went by like usual, and you didn't achieve anything groundbreaking for your case, which made you and scaramouche even more dumbfounded.

you two have been on a slump lately due to the lack of leads for your case, other than the dried blood and secret basement you found a while ago.

the results to the dna for the blooded carpet came back last week, and childe informed to you that it belonged to viktor, much to your distaste. you're really on the verge of giving up on this case, even if it's only been a month.

today isn't any special either. it's monday, so you didn't have any classes. scaramouche went out earlier for his appointment and you haven't even made a single friend here that is not viktor. and scaramouche, you guess. you don’t know if you’d consider him as a friend.

you really don't have anything to do.

you groaned. you needed to do something to fill out your boredom. everyone is probably busy at the precint as of now, mondays aren't usually the best days to be working in a police department.

you faintly banged your head against your bed frame, groaning once again. an idea popped up in your head, but you slumped against the pillows once you've realised it might be too boring. it took you a moment before you think about it again.

ah, screw it.

you guessed it won't hurt to head down to the campus cafe to get a drink, and maybe find some friends.

darn it. it’s starting to feel like you're reliving your university days.

the campus cafe was busy like it's always been, only a little quieter and less crowded than the norm since people were attending class at this time.

you ordered a cup of coffee and some pastries to side it with, taking a seat by the window.

the quiet and peaceful autumn morning made you relax and take your mind off the case. it's always the best when you stop thinking about work, the amount of workload you do for the department is undescribable.

being a detective isn't always the dream job people thought it was. sure, the paychecks are generous, and you have been dreaming of becoming one ever since you were a teenager, but archons is it exhausting.

you don't think you've ever recalled being completely off duty, other than the incident last year. you don't even use your day off's and annual leaves for vacations and trips, instead opting to either laze off in your apartment or stay at work.

your hold at the hospital wasn't that delightful either, spending time by staring off at the window from the hospital bed or eating boring hospital food. you can still remember the sterile scent of the place, just thinking about it makes you nauseous. as people always say, you will come to dislike the hospital once you’ve been admitted to one.

you didn't even realise you were zoning out until someone approached you.

“—hello? can you hear me?” a soft voice asked, poking your shoulder.

you perked your head up from the voice, turning your gaze from the window to the young woman standing next to your seat.

“...huh?” you said dumbly, still not completely out of your lingering thoughts.

“oh! hello!” she said, bringing up her hand to wave at you slightly. she had beautiful dark purple hair that goes until her hip, with some lighter highlights to pair it up. her eye makeup was absolutely flawless, the red eyeshadow and eyeliner suited her so much.

and the best part? her outfit. amazingly alluring and appealing to the eye. most of the outfit looked hand-sewn, given how they seemed eccentric and never-to-be-seen before.

ah, she's probably a fashion student.

you cleared up your throat. “um– hello there. anything you need?”

“well, uh– yes and no, actually. do you mind if i take a seat here?” she asked, pointing to the empty seat in front of you.

you shook your head, bringing up a hand to gesture her to sit. “no, no, i don't mind at all. please, get comfortable.”

the girl smiled at you sweetly. “thank you!” she chirped, taking a seat at the empty seat.

“nice to meet you! i'm yun jin.” the young woman said, introducing herself to you.

“hi yun jin, my name is luna, and vice versa.” you introduced yourself. “i love your outfit! are you a fashion student by chance?” you complimented, whilst shooting a question at her.

the girl chuckled, bringing a hand up to dismiss your words. “hehe, i get that a lot. but no, i'm not a fashion student, unfortunately. i just like sewing my own clothes, you could say that it's kind of my hobby.”

she placed her arms on the table. “i'm actually taking a course in criminology! it's the reason why i approached you, i saw you in a couple of our classes and i thought it'd be nice to say hi.” yun jin continued.

damn, you really did not expect that answer. she has a cute and sweet aura, so you thought she'd at least be majoring in courses that fit her personality, not the complete opposite.

“oh.” you said, mouth slightly open.

yun jin's facial expression slightly faltered. “i know i don't really look like someone who'd be interested with this kind of field, but it won't stop me from liking it! i've been wanting to become a police officer since forever, and i did not miss the opportunity when i was given one.”

ah, now you feel bad for your reaction.

“well, i guess it is nice to be in criminology. a lot of job offers could be given, and the pay is quite the bunch.” you shrugged, sipping on your coffee. “i wouldn't miss out either if i was you.”

“right! oohh, if i do become a police officer, i really hope i'd get transferred to the fatui precint! i heard great things about it, oh how i'd love to meet the captain tsaritsa...” yun jin said excitedly, already day dreaming about becoming an officer at the prestigious precint, your precint.

you almost choked from your drink, coughing up loudly, making the young woman in front of you worried.

“oh my! are–are you okay?! i didn't say anything wrong, did i?!” yun jin asked profusely, concerned on your reaction.

“augh– ugh, no. you didn't say anything, don't worry.” you reassured, calming down from the scene you made earlier.

this case is seriously going to kill you one day.

you spent the whole morning in the campus cafe talking with yun jin. it was kind of nice to make a new friend, you're gonna be less lonely now in the campus grounds. seeing scaramouche and viktor every single week can be quite boring.

you learned that yun jin is from liyue, and is a descendant of the yun-han opera troupe, a well known troupe in liyue. you also learned that she also does opera performances from time to time, usually whenever she goes back to liyue on breaks.

though born into a family of opera singers, yun jin decided to further her studies to snezhnaya instead. she still does keep up her talent in opera singing, but pursuing to become part of the police department was her main priority.

you admired her determination. she can still keep her name as a well known opera singer while still furthering her other interests at the same time.

it's kind of ironic, because you're the complete opposite, you're just a lazy bum. which made you to kind of rethink about your life decisions.

the sound of keys jingling from the outside of your dorm can be heard, and the door opens. scaramouche walked in, taking off his shoes and throwing his keys in to the key bowl.

“oh, look who's finally back.” you said flatly. you were at the kitchen island, propping one leg up on the stool you're sitting at while eating a cup noodle.

scaramouche rolled his eyes at you. “yeah, no shit. traffic was crazy as hell today, not sure why. probably a car accident.” he said, walking over to the kitchen where you were currently at.

“don't you have anything else that's more healthy to eat?”

“nope. don't really feel like it today.”

the ravenette took a seat next to you, propping his arms on the kitchen island and turned his gaze towards you.

it was silent for a few seconds, the both of you didn't know what to talk about.

you decided to say something to kill off the silence. “i met someone today.” scaramouche hummed in return, a sign for you to continue. “it's a girl from our criminology class, she's actually pretty sweet. though she did have dreams of becoming a police officer in our precint, so there's that.” you bellowed, stirring the cup noodle in boredom.

“that's kinda weird.” scaramouche snorted. “though, i'd pay so much to see the look on her face when she finds out we're actually detectives in that precint she loves so much.”

you giggled. “oh man, that's actually going to be kind of hilarious!” your laughter became louder, scaramouche joining you a second later. “imagine she finds out that she's been hanging out with a bunch of detectives being undercover at a university full of youngsters while the said detectives are almost in their late 20's?” you said, though trailing off at the end when you've finally registered your own words.

you and scaramouche went quiet from the laughing because of your statement.

yeah, you two really are not the best people for this case.

“how are things going there?” a female voice popped up from the speaker of your phone.

you're currently on the phone with signora, one of your co-workers and your closest friend right after childe. she's not the type to be personally involved in other people's lives nor does she like making friends, but you seemed to be the exception.

you figured the reason behind that was because you're not as irritating as your other colleagues. sure, everyone in the precint are mostly kind and updated with their work, but they can be petty and absolutely stupid. hence why signora is closest to you the most.

you huffed in exasperation. “fine, i guess. this month's been pretty slow. we haven't managed to get any more information on the case for a while now.” you said, folding up your one week worth of laundry on your bed.

this is monstrous, i should really stop being lazy and do my laundry more often. everything's a mess here, you thought.

“what about you? how are things with your husband?” you asked. “if i remember correctly, it should be your anniversary around this time. you guys have anything planned?”

signora sighed on the other line. “no... not really. we've been busy these past few weeks, with him and his company, me and my sergeant duties, you know the drill. our anniversary didn't even come to mind until you mentioned it just now.” signora said, sighing once again.

“i didn't know you were so busy. is that why you haven't been contacting me ever since i went for this mission? that's not a way to treat your best friend, rosalyne.” you say in amusement, chuckling to yourself. guess i should lighten up the dull mood.

“in my defense, it was for your safety! i don't want people to find out that you're undercover, so i try to limit my conversations with you as much as i could. it just so happens that i'm also busy, making it even the more easier.”

you laughed. “ah, it's nice to make someone else annoyed once in a while. annoying that gremlin all this while can be tiring, you know.” you muttered, talking about scaramouche. you haven't bothered anyone else other than the short ravenette for this past month, and it's kind of making you bored.

you finished folding all of your clothes and set them aside. i'll keep them later.

“how are you keeping up with him? i thought you two would be back at the precint the second you arrived at that university. you guys aren't the most admirable pair, after all. you two argue like children.” signora groaned, thinking about you two already makes her sick. this case gives an opportunity for signora to lessen her worries on the precint, since it was always you two who would make such a ruckus there.

you tapped on the speaker button of the call so that only you can hear the other line instead of the whole room. “we're fine, i think. it's kind of different than i thought.” you shrugged. “we do bicker at times, but we kind of stopped being complete assholes. feels kind of relaxing, actually.” you remarked, flopping onto your bed. you stared off at the ceiling while your phone is still in your hand, right next to your ear.

signora cleared her throat. “i beg your pardon?”

“what do you mean 'i beg your pardon'? didn't you hear me?”

“no, no. i heard you clearly. what i meant to say was...” signora trailed off for a second, finding the right words. “what the actual hell?!” she shouted at her phone, making you wince from the sound coming from yours.

“what is so shocking? i think you, of all people, should be the least to be shocked. even childe didn't make such a fuss.” you said, frowning your brows.

“well, i didn't know it just took you going undercover with him and no guns with you for you to get along. you two practically look like you want to shoot each other every day here.” signora replied. “though last time you two went on one together, things didn't end that well.”

you groaned, turning your body to the side. “archons, people need to stop bringing that up. it was a minor accident— i don't think i should explain it again.” you muttered. “i don't even know why scara is affected by it the most. that guy keeps worrying about everything, can't even go on a day without him scolding me about safety.”

you didn't let signora speak as you continue off with your rambling. “oh and mind you he keeps treating me like a baby! not letting me drink alcohol, not letting me go off on my own, not letting me even do anything!”

“goodness, sometimes i feel like i just want to slap that stupid face. he thinks after the incident i should be more careful of everything to avoid it happening again, most of our arguments revolves around that topic. it makes me sick.” you rambled. “he thinks i can't take care of myself. always thinks he knows the best and thinks that i'm obligated to follow his orders like a stupid dog.”

silence engulfs the line and for a moment, you think that your relationship with scaramouche might have gotten worse, contrary to what you've seen and experienced.

signora sighed, tone clearly upset. “y/n... are you sure you're actually a good detective?” signora asked finally after your heated rambling a second ago.

“of course i am. why do you even ask such a question?”

“because you don't seem to know how to solve the only problem that’s keeping you away from your worst enemy.”

ooo signora finally speaks up about your personal life

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[canirove]

Professor Rice | Chapter 6

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Masterlist

Veronica’s POV

Papers were done and all the studying was kinda done, so I decided to go to the gym. I was not a big gym person, but I liked to go from time to time to let some steam off.

So I put on a sports bra, some leggings, my hair up in a ponytail, and headed to the gym.

“Don’t forget your water bottle” Jo screamed from the sofa.

Again, what would I do without her?

I jogged on my way to the gym to warm up a little and then I picked one of the empty machines to start my workout. My “let’s get shit done” playlist was working particularly well today.

I moved around the gym, trying to put all my muscles to work before I found an empty space where I could stretch for a second.

And then, I saw him.

Declan was lifting weights. Yes. The most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life, who also happened to be my professor and who had kind of broken my heart, was lifting weights in front of me. He usually wore jeans and smart shirts to class, but he was now wearing shorts and a white shirt that stuck to his sweaty chest. I think I forgot how to breathe.

Ok, right. I needed to move and stop staring at him. But I also had to walk past him to go to the only empty machine in the whole gym.

Just breathe, Veronica. Walk fast and don’t look at him. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

“Veronica?”

Well, that went well.

“Yeah... oh, hi. I didn’t see you there!” I lied. I mean, at least my blush was not that noticeable since I was already red from working out.

He looked from my head to my toes twice before forcing himself to look away. Wait, was he checking me out?

“I didn’t know you came to the gym, I’ve never seen you here” he said.

“Yeah, uh... I don’t. Often. I just had some free time and thought it’d be good to clear my mind.” Funny, it was working until I saw him. “I can tell you come here often though... I mean. You know, muscles.” What am I talking about?

“These? Yeah, I guess” he laughed while flexing his arms, which gave me a clearer view of how massive those biceps were.

He’s trying to kill me.

“Right, I was just leaving so... have a good time working out.”

The smile fell off his face and he bit his lip.

“Don’t go!” he said while he grabbed my arm.

What?

Declan’s POV

Why am I holding her arm?

“Sorry” I said as I dropped her arm. “I just wanted to ask you if you were ok?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you know. There are a lot of assignments due this week and tests. So I just... I just wondered if you were doing ok.”

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking” she said while she looked at the door. She really doesn’t want to spend any time with me.

“Veronica, you know you can come to me whenever you need help, right?”

“Can I?” she said bitterly.

So I hurt her. Great job, Declan. I felt like I needed to find the right words right now if I didn’t want to lose her.

“Yes, you can. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise. I… ” I struggled. “Come have some coffee with me and we can talk. Outside of campus. Please.”

Veronica stared at me for what felt like hours before she agreed.

“Ok. Let me shower first, though”.

My laugh shook my entire body. I was so relieved she agreed to talk to me.

We exchanged numbers and decided on a place where we could meet. After that, I went home to shower and get ready for our... meeting? Date?

I don’t know what this is, and I shouldn’t think too much about it.

I didn’t want to look like I had tried too much but I also really wanted to look good for her. So I decided on some black jeans and a nice black fitted short-sleeve t-shirt. I was not an idiot, I saw the way she looked at my arms at the gym.

Once I was ready, I sat on the sofa and petted my cat, Winnie. She was definitely going to leave white fur all over my black outfit but oh well… The life of a cat dad.

I took my phone out of my pocket to text Mason. Apparently, I had to send him an update every ten minutes.

What does he think is going to happen? Well, probably what you hope will happen, you idiot. What am I doing?