#watched we’re all doomed yesterday too

[afeelingofdread]

The visceral scream I let out at like 9:30 am bc Dan and Phil uploaded dress to impress. Embarrassing.

[moonseonghwa]

Repetition - Choi San

part two to rewind

word count: 3k

warnings: soft dom!San, sub!reader, messy friends with benefits, unprotected sex (don't please), oral (m. receiving), orgasm denial? praising (lots of it)

ateez masterlist buy me a coffee?

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You waited in the cafe down the street, your fingers tapping on the dark brown wooden table subconsciously as you were listening to the bustling atmosphere. The coffee shop was just next to campus, making it a hotspot for students that were on the edge of their seats, studying for the midterms which were currently pressuring you just as much. 

You, in contrast, were waiting for your best friend to show up. Already having ordered his iced americano, with a brownie on the side, you noticed the familiar grey coat through the window, before the man entered the cafe. He spotted you, waved, before walking to your table. He was dressed in light-washed jeans, a white t-shirt, and the grey coat he likes the most. The grey coat you chose for him went you went shopping together. 

You smiled at him, closing your laptop as he sat down. “Hey” He said, giving you a high five. 

“How was the exam?” You asked, pushing your laptop into your bag before leaning your head on your hands, giving him full attention. 

“Awful, think I failed this one” He pouted, smiling after he took a sip of his coffee. “This coffee is good, how come we’ve never been here before?”

You and San usually go to another spot to drink coffee together. You live with him, but with both of your busy schedules you don’t actually see him that much, so you both agreed to do something together. He called it ‘quality time with my favourite person’ and you wondered if he really meant the words. 

San was a person that didn’t enjoy change too much, in contrast to his late-night rendezvous which did change every time. You’ve known him for a long time, but he still remains a mystery to you. A person that says A then follows his words with an action that screams B. You don’t mind though, you like figuring it all out. Figuring all of him out.

And in contrast to the man sitting in front of you, you loved change. 

“Just saw this place yesterday, I believe it opened last week” 

He hummed. “How’s the assignment?” 

“A mess, I could’ve just handed in something blank” You sighed, falling back against your chair.

“We’re both doomed then” He chuckled, making you smile at the dimples showing on his cheeks. 

You two actually hadn’t talked about what happened after that day, not knowing how to initiate another action, probably too scared to give in to the tension. You sometimes go back to that night in your head, imagining the feeling of his fingers on your skin and his lips on yours, wishing he was with you when you couldn’t get yourself to feel that amount of pleasure again. 

You did notice that San hadn’t brought another girl to your apartment, either he stopped bringing them, or you just didn’t notice when he did.

“Y/n?” You were pulled out of your thoughts. 

“Hm?” 

“I asked if you want to head back to the apartment to study in there, I didn’t bring my laptop.” He said, emptying the cup after you nodded, feeling your cheeks burn at your thoughts. 

-

Back at the apartment, you made yourself tea first. 

It has been raining for the past week, and the apartment was toned dark and cozy now. San bought scented candles, and he lit them up immediately after you got back.  He loved scents, which was evident in the kinds of colognes he owned, each with its own vibe. Each matches an aspect of his personality. 

With the tea ready, you placed one glass on the coffee table for San, him thanking you before you sat down on the couch, burying yourself in blankets as he sat on the floor in front of you, typing away one of his own assignments.

You were too exhausted to study, so you spend your time watching a drama on your phone. With the number of blankets on, you still felt your body freezing, so you got up, heading towards the bathroom to take a hot shower. 

‘’Where are you going?’’ He said, already missing your presence close to him. 

‘’Shower’’ You said, closing the bathroom door behind you after you got some clothes out of your room. 

You sighed when the warm water hit your tense muscles, turning the knob a bit hotter, making steam cloud the bathroom.  It was the best feeling, a hot shower after a long cold day. 

After a good thirty minutes in the shower — which you desperately needed, in your defense— you stepped out of the shower. The bathroom mirror was fogged as a result, and you brushed your teeth after blow-drying your hair (and the mirror, too). 

With a fresh pair of clothes, you walked out of the bathroom, straight into your own room as you were ready to wind down for tonight. You and San had picked up dinner earlier on the way to the apartment, and with the clock hitting 8 p.m you started finishing up some assignments in your bed.

A few hours later, you felt yourself grow hungry though. So you peeled off the blanket, making your way to the kitchen. San wasn’t in the living room, probably asleep as he needed it for the exams tomorrow. 

You made yourself cereal, eating it while leaning on the counter as you scrolled on your phone, before hearing San’s door open. You looked at him, hair messy and pajama pants on. 

‘’We meet again’’ You chuckle at his comment, taking another bite of your cereal. You tried to hide how your mind flashed back to that one night, and what happened in particular. 

‘’Hungry too?’’ You asked, turning your body around to face him as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. 

‘’Just thirsty’’ He said, eyes lingering on you a bit too long for you not to notice and you saw them drop to your lips for a few seconds before he put on a smile and started walking away. 

You hummed in response, going back to your finishing your food when you heard him enter his room again. 

Back in your room, you couldn’t help but think about him again. He looked extra good tonight, and you felt yourself grow needy for his touch. 

And as if he felt your pull, you hear a knock on your door. ‘’San?’’ You asked, surprised at him entering.

‘’Can I join you?’’ He asked, making your eyes widen as you struggled to speak. You kept quiet for a bit, feeling as if minutes were going by before you uttered out the words. 

‘’Yeah, sure’’ 

He smiled at you, getting in bed as he took your form in his arm. He was warm, you wondered if he ever felt cold with his body temperature. 

You were a bit shocked, wondering where the change of feelings came from. ‘’You okay?’’ 

‘’Yeah, just needed this’’ He placed a kiss on your neck, lingering his lips on the spot a bit longer. Your breath hitched, feeling your body on fire as his hands were on your skin. You sighed, pulling him closer. You pulled the blanket over him so he was covered too, as his lips were pressed against your neck.

‘’Have you been…thinking about it?’’ Your voice was barely above a whisper, as you felt him smile in your neck. 

‘’About what?’’ He teased.

‘’You know, the other night’’ 

There was no way he didn’t, with the way he lingered around you the past days, almost not leaving your side whenever you were together with him. 

‘’I think about it more than friends should’’ He replies, towering over you as he held your chin in his palm. ‘’Late at night, when I figure you’re already asleep, or even in class when I get a text from you’’ 

His lips ghosted over yours, brushing against them but keeping enough distance so you weren’t able to kiss him. His other hand was around your waist, slowly bringing your bodies closer to each other. You could feel him growing against you, making you sigh as your eyes fluttered close. 

‘’What do you think about’’ You asked, breathing heavily. 

‘’The way your skin feels against mine’’ He started, his fingers brushing down to your lower back. ‘’The way you clench around me when you’re about to come, and what it’ll be like when I can have you shake under my touch again’’ 

‘’Do you think about it, baby? Does it get you off?’’ He added, a teasing smile on his face. 

You shook your head no. ‘’Only you can get me off’’ You said, looking in his eyes to see them darken. 

‘’Yeah? Only me?’’ He whispered against your lips, ‘’You’re mine, then, right?’’ He placed a peck on your lips, and you almost moaned because of his words. 

‘’Say it, baby’’

‘’Yes, all yours’’ You whined, not able to lean in more because of his fingers holding your chin back. ‘’Please kiss me, San-’’ 

He pressed his lips against yours, hard. The grip on your waist kept you steady as he devoured your lips as if there was no next time. You were only wearing a t-shirt and panties, so it was easy for him to open up your legs, settling between them as he slowly started grinding into you

His hand went between your legs in no time, opening them up and humming in delight when he felt how wet you were. Without a warning, he pulled down your panties, taking them off you easily. 

His finger gathered the wetness before moving to your clit, stimulating there as you moaned into his mouth, struggling to focus on kissing him as you was making you feel so good already. The pent-up sexual frustration finally seemed to settle down, making it feel so so good. 

You pulled down his sweats and underwear before your hand wrapped around his erection, jerking him off lazily as he breathed out a sigh against your mouth. You noticed how much your touch affected him, wanting to hear more of it as you slowly pushed him backward, noticing his surprised face at your sudden moves. 

‘’What are you doing?’’ He asked.

‘’Want to taste you’’ 

You got down on your knees, making him shift in position so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Holding his thighs, before tracing your hand over the tattoo right above his knee your head went up to his tip, teasing slowly with kitten licks as he threw his head back. 

One of his hands went to the back of your head, the other one behind him on the bed as he moaned out at the contact.

 He was painfully hard, just looking at you on your knees for him, ready to take him as your mouth wrapped around his length.

‘’Good girl, fuck, just like that’’ He praised as you started bobbing your head up and down, taking him as far as you could without gagging. He was big, so it was hard not to. 

You twirled your tongue around the tip, igniting a low groan from him that went straight to your core, before wrapping your hand around the part your mouth couldn’t get to.

He held your head steady as he slowly bucked into your mouth, mumbling a quick apology. 

You looked up at him, and he swore he almost came on the spot when you swallowed around him while making eye contact. 

‘’Fuck, don’t do that or I’ll come’’ He grunted, trying to keep composure as you tried your best to take more little by little.

‘’Come in my mouth, need to taste you’’ You said before focusing on his tip with your mouth as your hand did its work on the rest of his length. He looked so good, all fucked out because of your mouth, his wet hair falling on his head after he ran a hand through it. 

You took him once again, tip hitting the back of your throat as you slightly gagged around him, making you moan out as he felt the vibrations. ‘’Y/n, ah, gonna come’’ 

‘’You sure I can come in your mouth?’’ The need for consent made your heart warm as you hummed around him, spurring him on even more before his breathing intensified, whimpers leaving his mouth as he shot his load down your throat, moaning in bliss. 

You swallowed all of it, making him lean down as he placed a lustful kiss on your mouth. 

‘’You did so well, hm?’’ He praised, before helping you get up. 

You kissed him again, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you sat on his lap. He hummed in delight, before swiftly shifting you two, sitting back with his back against the headboard as his hand fell on your ass, pulling it back as his tip teased your entrance. 

‘’You want me now, huh?’’ He said, making you whine out a yes as you pushed your hips forward. ‘’Yeah? My good little girl wants a reward?’’ He massaged your ass, grinding your folds against his length as you were even able to get off like this. 

You didn’t expect him to enter you so quickly though, feeling all of him inside you as he stretched you out. ‘’Answer me’’

‘’Yes, Sannie, please’’ You moaned, grinding against him as you felt him slowly move inside you, making your head fall back at the overwhelming pleasure. 

He pushed you deeper into him, holding your waist steady as he started thrusting up from beneath you. He was insane, it made you crazy. His hand went up to your cheek, thumb placed against your lip before pushing it inside your mouth, making you moan as you looked into his eyes, taken over by pleasure. 

He kept the pace, speeding up a bit when your moans got louder, igniting you got closer to the edge. He pulled the thumb out of your mouth, making you drop your head on his shoulder when he used it to rub slow circles on your clit. 

He ground into you slower, the pace making you feel him everywhere. He kissed you, pushing in his tongue, silencing your moans as you could feel your high approaching. 

‘’Hold it’’ He ordered, making you bite your lip as you struggled to. 

‘’I can’t’’ You whimpered, not able to stop the pleasure, and you felt the high dangerously approaching, trying to focus on holding it back but failing miserably. 

He stopped moving, feeling you clench more and more as it let him know you were almost too close, leaving you whining as he pulled out of you before turning you around, placing you on the bed and placing your lips on his. He kissed you intensely, before slipping inside again and continuing the circles on your clit. 

‘’Ah- San, please let me-‘’ You weren’t able to finish the sentence, too consumed by the pleasure. 

‘’Come’’ He simply said, snapping his hips into you faster as you let out a string of moans of his name. The pace was brutal, but delicious as it was exactly what you needed right now, to let him fuck the stress out of you. 

You let the pleasure take over, finally able to release as he stilled inside of you, grinding you through your orgasm as he kissed your throat. With a few more snaps of his hips, combined with the clenching you did around him and the beautiful moans of yours filling his ears, he came deep inside of you, painting your walls white with his come. 

Your breaths were heavy, coming back from the extreme high you just had. San pulled you closer, placing a kiss on your lips as he smiled against them. Your heart swelled at his soft touch, stroking your sides in an attempt to soothe your sore skin.

‘’You did so good’’ He said, placing another kiss on your cheek, making you blush as you hid your face in his neck. Skin-to-skin like this felt like you were lovers, two people who shared this kind of intimacy to another level. 

He pulled out of you a few minutes later, making you wince. He left the room, and your eyes were fighting to stay open. When he came back, you had failed, flinching at the feeling of a wet towel between your thighs. 

‘’Just cleaning you up’’ He said, before walking back to throw the towel in the laundry. 

‘’Wanna sleep in my bed? We should change these sheets tomorrow’’ He chuckled, making you nod with a smile on your face as he pulled you up in his arms, carrying you to his room before handing you one of his shirts to wear, just like you always did. 

He crawled in beside you after he put on fresh boxers, before pulling you close to his warm body. 

And you hated it, but you could feel yourself leaning into him more and more, every day you spent with him. He was your best friend and someone who knew you best, so you just hoped that this whole situationship wouldn’t affect your feelings towards him enough that it would eventually hurt you or him. 

But maybe it was already too late for that. 

@atxxzist surprise🤭

[tremendouscreationperson]

Pre-war Cooper Howard x Reader

I made a post not too long ago asking someone to write this and was like fine I'll do it then 🤣 hope it isn't god awful

You guys are conducting an affair and one day on set Cooper notices some bruises on you.

Warnings - your husband isn't a nice man, nothing crazy but there's the aforementioned bruises

Cooper tried to keep his mind wandering back to you. He really did. But after yesterday's haphazard filming with new scripts he was worried. Were you ill? Were you being written out of the show? No. You were a fan favourite of course not.

He'd spent the whole of yesterday ‘fighting’ the cobra tail bandits. The episode was meant to feature you and the script was charming. Your character - ‘Elizabeth’ - and his - ‘Clint’ - would've finally admitted their feelings for eachother. The no-nonsense doctor forcing herself onto his horse and insisting she could help.

It wouldn't have won any awards but he thought it was a good plotline.

Instead he was told that you were ‘beat up’ by the bandits and he would be wreaking havoc. Which again wasn't awful but he found that he liked your company.

You'd been hired completely because you were a woman. It shut down the angry mail and your natural charisma and ad-lib one liners caused hoards of fan letters. You were immediately accepted as the ‘woman doctor who takes no bullshit and proves herself’. Elizabeth was a triumph.

“What’re we shooting now?” Cooper asked the director.

Oswald answered, wafting the cloud of smoke that forever surrounded him. “We’re gonna run through you finding (Y/N). You speak to Donnie and then he points her out and you run over there.” Oswald pointed with his cigar hand over to Donnie who was being placed on the ‘saloon’ steps. Donnie's face had been made up with bruises and dried blood. Oswald then gestured across the sandy set to where your mark was. Cooper could see the back of you, talking with your make-up crew and he let out a sigh of relief.

“So no cameras on this one then?”

“No, run through the full scen-” Os cut himself off with a chesty cough. “You know what to do.”

Cooper hoisted himself upon Sugarfoot as he watched everyone slowly get into position and as your face came into view he gasped. He had known you'd be in the same makeup that Donnie had but he hadn't realised the anger it would cause him. He hated to see your delicate features marred and sore. Hated the messy hair and torn shirt.

Cooper took a steadying breath and mentally told himself to use these emotions. He was a professional and yeah, sure, he and you may have been conducting an affair. However neither of your marriages were happy. He had to get his affairs in order before divorcing Barb and you had never loved your husband. Your father had married you off to further your career and it did work but at what cost?

“Alright are we all ready?” Gwen's voice cut through the chatter. “Three… Two.. One.”

‘Clint’ jumped off of Sugarfoot and ran to ‘George’.

“Hell, man, what happened to ya?” Cooper's hands shook Donnies shoulder. “George?!”

The man underneath let out a rattly cough. “Sheriff?”

“George.” Cooper pulled the man so he was upright. “It's gonna be okay.”

“Wai-” He coughed again. “They've doomed us. They go- they got Miss Liza.”

Cooper let his eyes widen and his face drop. “Wha’d’ya mean?”

“Ove- over there.” Donnie lifted his arm vaguely in your direction before it fell back on his thigh.

Cooper let his eyes follow Donnie's hand and he let a shuddering breath out at the crumpled body. “Liza!” Cooper abandoned Donnie to sprint over to you. It wasn't a long set so he was there quickly (the team would make it look longer) skidding to a halt at your side. Sand flew as he landed by your left.

Cooper’s hands hovered over your body, ‘Clint' didn't know where to touch. He settled one hand on your chest to try to feel for her heartbeat and the other on your shoulder. Cooper couldn't feel your heart so he lent his head over your, his ear by your mouth and smiled. His head was already by yours and it took almost nothing to rest his forehead upon your own.

“Liza?” The hand on your chest found your cheek. You let out a low moan, indicating that you were alive.

Cooper was swift with his movements, scooping you up as he rose to full height. “Don't you worry Liza, you're gon’ be fine.”

And that was the scene.

Gwen let out a round of applause and Oswald nodded. “Yes, just like that, Coop.”

“Let's reset and film George and Clint.” Gwen called out.

You were still in his arms as he looked down at you with a grin. “You know, that makeup sure is good.”

“Oh, thank you.” Your cheeks heated. “I'll let Sarah know.”

“Yeah it's much better than Donnie's.” He craned his neck to get a closer look.

A laugh escaped you as you shoved him. “You can put me down now.”

Cooper raised a brow. “Now, when have you ever had a problem with me carrying you?”

You just laughed at him again. Despite his question he did place you delicately on the sand.

“Where were you yesterday?” He straightened your ripped shirt.

You looked up at him through heavy lashes. “Did you miss me?”

“Course I did, sweetheart.” Your lips pulled into a coy smirk and he was called to shoot with ‘George’.

The scene with Donnie didn't last long but there was the shot on George, the shot on Clint, the wide shot and all the reshoots. So it did take longer than expected. Cooper felt antsy, he wanted to shoot with you. God, this was bad. He knew he liked you but he should be professional enough to get through this.

“Right, that's about all of Cooper running I can handle.” Oswald stopped Gwen trying to get another take of ‘Clint’ sprinting to ‘Liza’. Cooper was thankful as he tried to calm his breathing.

Skidding to your side and repeating his actions from before he and you took direction tirelessly. Most of yours was to ‘look deader.’

“Now, Coop you'd be angrier. The Cobra Tails have beat and possibly defiled your woman.” Os had tried to coach Cooper into playing it more angry but Cooper disagreed.

“I get what you're saying but the anger comes later. Clint is relieved that Elizabeth is alive. Clint doesn't care for anything else at the moment.” Cooper argued. “He just wants her safe, he couldn't live with himself if she wasn't.”

The statement was pleasant enough in itself but paired with his gentle hand stroking your swollen cheek… you'd fallen head over heels for this man and your husband wouldn't stay in the dark too much longer. In fact you're fairly certain that Tuesday night was because of your handsome co-star. You didn't care. Cooper was worth a shove here and a slap there. Did that make you mad? Probably.

Cooper had you in his arms and was filmed running towards ‘Liza’s surgery. Her sister was hiding upstairs and came down at the sheriff’s yells.

‘Prim’ promised to keep ‘Liza’ stable.

“Swear it.” ‘Clint’s voice boomed.

‘Prim’ was washing away the blood with a damp cloth. “I swear!”

“Primrose,” He grabbed her arm. “I ain't joking.”

Her eyes bore into his, both equally angry. “Me neither.”

And that was it with this part. You were expected to change for the reunion as Cooper and Darlene did a few more takes. They had another scene when he returns and asks about ‘Liza’. It's a cute scene showing a familial bond between the two characters. ‘Prim’ confides that she was so scared her sister would've died and ‘Clint’ agrees. There's more dialogue and knowing Cooper adlibs but the overall scene really highlights their individual relationships to ‘Liza’ and how, despite them always being at odds, similar the two are.

Cooper was taking a sip of water when you were brought back in. You were wearing a loose white gown, with your hair unpinned. The bruising on your face was less than before.

They laid you on the bed and fanned your hair out. This was a big thing apparently, so Gwen stated. “Her hair is always up in the braid. It's a sign of her professionalism. The only time it's sorta down it's when Clint dances with her at Rhonda’s wedding. But it was still half braided, it shows that she is mentally - and obviously physically - letting her hair down around him.”

Usually Cooper would let the woman talk his ear off yet something nagged at him. “So isn't it wrong that the first time Clint sees her with her hair down is because she almost died?”

“No, it shows that this is the final straw. She won't pull back next episode. She's decided that life is too short and she likes you. Well him.”

Cooper just hummed and readied himself again.

Gwen counted them all in and Cooper sheepishly opened the door to ‘Liza's bedroom. You were breathtaking. It was actually becoming somewhat of a hazard to him, your beauty causing his brain to flatline, forgetting lines and marks and everything that wasn't you.

“Elizabeth?” He whispered gently, completely missing where he was meant to hover and delicately sitting at your side. “Liza?”

Your brows furrowed and you slowly blinked your eyes open. He'd had the privilege of seeing that. You and him lying in an expensive bed, half dozing knowing you both need to leave but loathe to. It didn't matter for Cooper really, he was a man, he was allowed to stay out late but he knew you'd be ridiculed by the press so he forced himself to sit up and forced you to copy his movements.

“Clint?”

Cooper was back in the shot, his eyes roaming your bruised face. Maybe this affair affected you in more ways than he thought. Your bruises weren't fake, he could tell. There was only so much the makeup department could do. No, these were real. Wh-Was this why you were off yesterday? Did the crew know? Everyone was particularly secretive with why you weren't in.

“Clint?” You spoke again. “You okay?”

Cooper Howard was never really one to stick to the script. He pulled you in for a bone crushing hug. “Liza.” You patted his back to the best of your ability and Cooper pulled away just enough to look you in the eye. “I thought I lost you.”

“‘n here I thought you'd be jumping for joy.” You spoke the dialogue that was meant to have been said as he hovered by the door.

“Never. I-” He cut himself off going completely off script, unsure if it was Clint or Cooper speaking. “You're not allowed to get hurt. Not on my account. I can't have you- you can’t-”

“Shhh.” You smoothed his hair. “I'm fine.”

He shook his head and pulled you in for a kiss. The characters were meant to share a kiss but it was a peck on your forehead not the steamy, tongue tangling snog he planted on you. You both broke apart for air and there was something behind Cooper's eyes.

“‘cause I love you.”

You were in shock when Oswald let out a whoop, “Cut! Now that is television!” Neither you nor Cooper had spoken that forbidden word and yeah technically it was part of the script, you were both playing characters, but it felt real. It felt true. You knew it to be true.

Gwen rounded everyone up to reset and your makeup team was there to touch your face as the hair stylist replaced your locks. Cooper was given the same treatment after they practically dragged his ass back out the door.

The scene ran again and again and again but the last four words didn't feel any different. Your heart fluttered every time the words were uttered, each time more convincing than the last.

It was late when Oswald declared ‘hometime’ and you were allowed to leave.

Cooper snagged your wrist and loudly asked to run lines, the age old excuse to be alone in his trailer. You agreed and after a quick change found yourself on the steps of the trailer. You'd been in here more than you'd been in your own. It was almost a waste of money to have one but you had to keep up appearances.

Cooper opened the door before you could knock and let you in, he'd barely shut the door before the words tumbled out of his mouth. “Divorce him.”

“Wh-” Where did this come from? Both of you knew the deal of your affair was that his wifes company funded his movies and your husband funded yours. The fact that the two of you were on this show was a mere coincidence, one that the director did not mind in the slightest. His little project had the largest budget to play with in television history and you're sure most went in his pocket.

“I know this isn't makeup.” Cooper's hand barely touched your cheek. “You're hurt and I know it was him.”

“I can't leave him.” Your hand wrapped around his wrist.

“You could.” His eyes grew hopeful. “You know I want to leave Barb, if we were both divorced-”

“That's a nice idea.” Cutting him off, you stepped back, arms hugging your middle. “But we can't Coop. You know we can't. Deals were made.”

“I'll buy a farm, we could leave this industry.” Cooper could see the conflict waging beneath you, your flickering eyes glossy. He knew you wanted nothing more than to be with him but understood it was hard for a woman to restart her life. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” You nodded in agreement, a fat tear cascading down your cheek. “But this isn't- we aren't-”

Cooper didn't let you finish, he pulled you in for a hug, fingers creating patterns on your back in an attempt to soothe your worried mind. “Just let me say it. I. Love. You.”

[sbwrites]

The end is near- eddie Munson x reader

Summary: you can feel that your end is near as you enter the upside down, but it’s gonna be okay. Because eddie is with you.

Warnings: angst? Death, a few kisses, eddie calls reader sweetheart, established relationship

A haze. That’s what you’ve been in since you all piled into the back of the stolen motor home. Your left hand squeezed eddies tightly as your right hand held tightly onto the shotgun you had strapped to your upper body.

The haze continues as you fall through the gate. Eddie had tried his best to steady you, to calm your fears as you walked through the upside down, he was still holding your hand, squeezing it from time to time.

An overwhelming feeling of impending doom crashed over you as you approached the trailer. You knew these were going to be some of your last steps, your last moments with Eddie, your last moments alive.

The feeling of impending doom follows you to the roof of the trailer and flies around you as you watch Eddie play what is going to be his last song on his guitar. Momentarily the feeling of doom stops as you and Eddie lock eyes. It makes sense, Eddie had always been your escape, your peace in this unpredictable world, your little piece of paradise in hawkings.

The momentary bliss stops as the bats swarm towards you. The feeling of impending doom takes over your body again as you begin to fight them off. “The end is near” you mutter to yourself as you jump off the roof of the trailer.

The haze returns as you and Eddie continue to fight the bats. Just as you feel relieved from killing a few, ten times more come to fill their place. You feel your arms begin to ache and your legs begin to shake. Your throat is dry and your cheeks are stained with tears filled with mascara and eyeliner as you look over at Eddie. Your eyes lock again as you both fall to the ground, the bats flee back to the house on the other side of town.

You manage to shuffle over to Eddie, your hands intertwining. “We’re gonna be okay sweetheart”eddie reassures you before placing a final kiss on your lips. As you lie next to each other you can’t help but think about all the things you hadn’t done. You didn’t play your favourite song whilst getting ready yesterday, you hadn’t appreciated the moments before this mess with eddie enough, you hadn’t told your mom you loved her that morning, you hadn’t told eddie that you loved him nearly enough as you should’ve. “I love you Eddie” you smile softly at him as tears continue to fall down your cheeks. “I love you too sweetheart” he smiles back, one of his big gummy smiles, the ones you fell in love with years ago.

Your pain begins to fade as you and Eddie continue to hold eye contact, softly smiling at each other. You never had imagined your last moments to be so peaceful, so filled with love. You had never imagined them to come so quickly. Yet here you were, hand in hand with eddie as you both died for this stupid god forsaken town. But it was gonna be okay.

Eddie was with you.

A/n: back to my roots with this! I have a similar idea in mind but with Dean Winchester if y’all wanna see that? This was also heavily inspired by I know the end by Phoebe Bridgers

[drivestraight]

hi!!!!

so, obviously im here to talk about eat them alive cause i genuinely haven’t been this insane about a fic since all to play for was published. I decided to read it yesterday night as a lil treat because I love your writing, even though I was very much weary of the landoscar tag (i unfortunately do not get the hype, but ill try anything once 🤷🏼‍♀️). WELL. little did I know that the landoscar tag would be the LEAST of my worries.

im a firm believer that oscar piastri is, in fact, just as batshit crazy as any of them and boy did you do that justice!!! the oscar pov? Sensational, literally everything I wanted AND more: I often feel like in fics people get tricked by his personality and tend to make him very flat, gray and boring, but you wrote him exactly how I wanted to see him. A very calculating person who also feels things deeply, ruthless to the point of almost being cruel, but never robotic or cold.

now, I don’t particularly care for Lando irl. he just doesn’t do it for me but MAN……..the absolute lando torturefest this fic was made me ACHE. the fact that he just couldn’t make himself stop from falling for oscar despite still being INSANELY bitter about the whole abu dhabi situation and his consequent lost championship. the way he just kept IGNORING every kind of hint that the thing with oscar was going to end in tragedy for him!!!!!!! (maxf made me insane. him being right about oscar from the get to and yet still having to watch as the mother of all psychological tortures unfolded cause lando was a goner. OUGH)

Max……oh Max. I love how you can just tell he’s your favourite from the way you write him (this is a compliment, not at all some kind of dig btw). He’s always the catalyst, willing or not, and somehow his presence just trickles down into every other character’s story. Haunting The Narrative personified. Oscar taking his place in rbr just to go apeshit and be compared to mad max. Max playing involuntary mind games on lando with his team radio, triggering the most INSANE lando meltdown ever. I was PRAYING for a maxcar happy ending and you gave it to me!!!!!

Now, a list of moments where I had to put my phone down and stare at the wall for a minute:

- oscar not giving position back in Abu Dhabi. Did I see it coming? Yes. Did it make me gasp in shock either way? Also yes.

- the whole entirety of the landoscar portion of this story. the fact that the tenderness between them was built on NOT acknowledging all the terrible things they were doing to each other in the car. the fact that they just wanted to be sweet and loving and caring but couldn’t fight against the Big Bad Championship Issue and we’re doomed from the start.

- Oscar trying to work up the courage to tell lando he was gonna leave mclaren for redbull and lando being like. Hey, don’t worry, I know. I do too. I WAS GOING INSANE HERE. what if I loved you and you were about to betray me.

- the whole golf scene between zak and oscar. the way my heart dropped when I realised zak wanted to push lando out of the team, their golden boy from the start, cause he just didn’t think he had that dog in him and that he would get chewed up and spit out by oscar in a matter of years. OSCAR ACCEPTING RBR’S OFFER AS THE ULTIMATE ACT OF LOVE TOWARDS LANDO.

- somehow it didnt click in my head right away what Alex going to mclaren meant. AND THEN. carlos, OH RIGHT CARLOS. him defending against lando cause he thought Lando knew, him being stuck in williams despite the whole carlando narrative and the fact that he was, allegedly, such a big part in the development of mclaren. what the hell

- the scene between oscar and lando. You know the one. Oscar being like: you are too emotional that’s why nobody told you I was leaving!!!!!! and lando responding with: no I am not!!!!!!! with tears in his eyes. SENSATIONAL. “It’s not my fault you made up this whole fantasy in your head that we were together, and we were in love.” right. Okay. 👍🏼 im so fine about this actually.

- retired max and seb in rbr’s garage made me bawl for some reason. maybe it’s me being a seb fucker, but the mental image of the two rbr’a golden boys together is terrible in the best way.

- the scene between daniel, max and oscar. HUH. I loved all the hints at the absolute nuclear bomb that was maxiel but without making the story about it, chefs kiss (that’s exactly what maxiel is all about imo! the what if’s and the heartache and the wrong timing of it all. maxiel IS not about fulfilment and happiness baby)

Honourable mention: charles being oblivious to the chaos and having an identity crisis trying to muster up the courage to buy lube. delicious

To wrap this infinite rant up, I just wanted to tell you that you truly do have a special talent in writing and you’re probably the only author whose fics I will always read, despite pairings or plot lines. This fic in particular was VERY well-crafted and I compliment both you and lia for it; your minds work in ways that align very well with my taste, and thank god for that tbh! Hope you have a great day and just know that I’ll be thinking about this fic for a very long time. 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

uno reverse - an infinite response below the cut ❤️

in a way, this might be the closest thing i get to a fic commentary, so thank you for the detailed ask:

the variety of people who came into this For the landoscar tag vs those who were hesitant about the landoscar tag... what a beautiful collection of people...

re: oscar pov, thank you so much! one thing i really love about oscar is like. how much he pushes back IRL about how people view him as unemotional except. literally everyone around him, mark, andrea, and even his mom are like - yeah oscar's so unflappable and calm at all times. whereas to oscar he's time and time again been like. i do get emotional i just don't show it, etc. so i'm happy that you liked this characterization of him :) calculating but feels things deeply, ruthless for a purpose, casually cruel but only in pursuit of some greater goal, but not robotic or cold. yeah !!!!

even though maybe this fic might've tricked some people... don't get me wrong... i'm a massive landolover... no1 landolover on the planet... aka i love putting him through situations... and yeah. he fell hard for oscar. So So Hard. he fell and he fell hard and Max (f) saw it and was like. i can't fucking sit and watch you break your own heart. i can't do it. i can't watch you do it. and lando knew all that and knew better but still, he took the risk and it blew up in his face. for me lando in this fic was the most human because it's like. the only reason why maxcar got each other so well/worked so well is because they were so willing to sacrifice everything else in their lives, and other people, for what they wanted, without any sort of contrition. that sort of singleminded abandon/focus/dedication to one thing, racing etc., is just, like - this isn't to say that the other drivers don't have that same want or dedication, but the really interesting point i was trying to get across was - how much are you really willing to sacrifice. how much are you willing to give up, what other parts of your life are you willing to be flippant about. you can't put all of your care and effort into one thing without forsaking some other parts. for oscar, the parts he was letting go of/giving up was lando, etc.

and yeah it was like. lando saw all the signs in monza, zandvoort, etc. but he just - ignored it. when you have these little hints that don't fit into your worldview, it's easy to ignore how they fit into the puzzle, it's hard to see things you're not looking for even if they're right under your nose. besides, oscar had a contract. besides, to lando, oscar loved him. and even if oscar did love him, which he did, it just wasn't in a way that lando could understand.

and yeah... the max f of it all... he was right about it from the start. he knew how the story would end and he was right in the end, but no matter how much you care and no matter how much you know, you can't really control how other people act. he told lando again and again that oscar would fuck him over in the end. [not in the fic... just in my mind... and also in my notes lmao]. and lando ignoring everything he said re: the fights/fall outs between them, is what led max to be like - yeah, fuck this. i'm not watching you break your own heart. [but then he goes and picks up the pieces post-zandvoort, obviously... the nortrell of it all...]

to finish off the triangulation - max! he really is my favorite <3 it comes out in everything i write ls;jdflksajdf he really was the catalyst for this whole fic like. so much of what happened between landoscar, in a way, was kind of a direct consequence of max, even in the smallest ways. he retired, so oscar left mclaren. he told the media in zandvoort, so we got that terrible fallout. he might not have been the main character in the real story, but he was a catalyst. he haunted the narrative. even retired, in 2026, everyone still thinks about him, everyone still talks about him re: sky sports commentators. but in the end, he was really just - this guy who's retired, with his cats in monaco, playing iracing and minecraft on stream, and fucking oscar in between, etc. something about maxcar who just - are untouchable only because of their perceived lack of care, when truly, they are both people who deeply, deeply care - but only about certain things. only about the things that matter.

re: oscar not giving the place back. One of the very first plot points of the fic. very lovely and special to me. an eye for an eye. but not something malicious, not something done out of revenge. just - this is how it's going to be, so i'll return it in full measure. it wasn't that deep. really, oscar just did it for himself

re: landoscar. yeah... it was the not talking about things. it was the fact that they were able to be happy and in love only during the summer break, when nothing else mattered. but in the end it always comes back to the racing...

re: WHAT IF I LOVED YOU AND YOU WERE ABOUT TO BETRAY ME... EXACTLY... lando was. so sure. that oscar was going to say i love you then.... he was so sure...

re: the golf scene. YEAHHHH. this was a really fun moment for me. it was why it was necessary for lando to not be doing so well before the summer break. yes he already lost a championship (2024), but it needed to be convincing, at least results wise, that zak would want to drop him. it's that sort of ruthless attitude, i feel like, where you hedge your bets and try to pick the right horse given the information you have. the point i was trying to make was that people started to see a future with oscar more than they did with lando. oscar just kept on driving - and he did well for it. but zak scared oscar off.

in the end, the thing was that oscar did care deeply about lando, enough that he'd leave the team. i think it was in part oscar leaving bc he knew that mclaren would never be His team/he wanted to make a team for himself, but it was primarily for lando's sake. in that moment, in summer 2025, he did it for lando. he wouldn't take that away from lando. he already took a championship from him - which he didn't feel sorry about, but he knew that that was what he did. and he was aware that he would probably break lando's heart. he was aware of all of this, but he knew that leaving was the only way out, and he needed an out. even worse than leaving, to oscar, was staying at mclaren and having them push lando out. someone has to leave first. this is a very old story. there is no other version of the story, etc.

re: carlos. yeah RIP carlos. anyway i've been asked about why alex. and really it was just like - oscar left because he knew there couldnt be 2 number one drivers at mclaren, so i needed a convincing no2, who was still pretty solid.

re: qatar. yeah... yeah... i was literally writing like. all of this fic. all of the 50k before it, to get to qatar (maybe an exaggeration because of course there were big moments before it that i was ultra jazzed about writing, re: silverstone, re: zandvoort, re: spa, but qatar was like, the BREAKING POINT, where all the emotions come out, finally, where it's the point of no return for oscar - where everything he'd been keeping inside, all of the reactionary emotions from people's vitriol over the course of 2 seasons, and being pushed over the edge by lando saying that if he won, it wouldn't be his, bringing the whole tabloid narrative of him being mark's revenge into play - where it all comes out, and oscar can't take any of it back).

and the fantasies. yeah. oscar saying that it was all a fantasy when. deep inside. he was also making one up in his head too, is the thing.

re: max and seb <3 red bull golden boys forever.

re: maxiel. yeah man. i feel like. idk. i feel like in the context of max and red bull, daniel will always be a part of it, and i'm glad you thought that despite (or because of) the scarcity of maxiel, the emotional impact was still significant. what ifs, heartache, and wrong timing. you get it.

re: charles. bro was just doing his own thing for all of 2025-2026. the charles side story is so funny to me. Maybe one day i'll write it in length. oscar literally was just like. idgaf abt ur crisis rn.

LASTLY - thank you so much! it's always a really big honor to me to hear that a lot of people read my fics even if it's not their preferred ship, and that they'll trust me to deliver a good story, and i'm really happy that people liked this one so much!

and ofc. Lia helped develop like the majority of this plot with me. this fic is just as much hers as it is mine. our neural link is like this 🤞

TO WRAP UP. im so happy you enjoyed the fic, and thank you so much for the kind ask <3

[badomensgoodomens]

RIFFS AND REGRETS - noah sebastian - part two

part one here

______________________________________

hi, i have ultimately decided that after a week i absolutely hate this storyline and believe i can do better lol. i had intended to progress further after this chapter, but it is suitable to stop here.

_______________________________________

Hadn’t planned on waking up in a shitty emergency tent during the festival of a lifetime, much less the angry danielle who was standing over me lecturing me. 

“Are you fucking stupid?? You were so dehydrated that the adrenaline made you faint!! We talked about this- that is the number one rule of touring-” “danielle-” “you had me worried sick!! That is so not cool-” “danielle!!” i shout, overwhelmed. “Fuck- did i hit my head on the way down?” i ask, rubbing my face.

 “Uhhuh, leo said you went down like a ton of bricks, hit your ribs on the fuckin toilet bowl.” i groan, leaning my head back. “He was watching you, yaknow.” she says. I pause, looking up at her in utter confusion. “Who?” “noah. From the artist tent.” i close my eyes with a sigh at that information. “Thanks for sharing.” i mumble, trying to ignore the stinging coming from my ribs. 

“You can't keep ignoring him, you know.” she says, shifting her weight from one foot to another, hand resting on her pregnant belly. “He broke my fuckin heart dani.” i reply, too exhausted to put up a proper fight. “Oh please. You didn’t even date.” she says, vic comes up behind her. “Who?” he says, wrapping his arms around danielles stomach. “He who shall not be named.” dani retorts, leaning her head on his shoulder. “She STILL stalks my insta. I am NOT talking to him. Hes probably cheating with poppy anyways. Shes pretty.” i say, sitting up a bit. “Arabella, you're one stupid bitch.” 

____________________

The next morning i have a much needed shower, i stand infront of the foggy bathroom mirror in nothing but a plain black set, admiring the nasty ass bruise that littered my left rib. Yikes. I shimmy into a stage outfit, now ruined by the bruise i adorned. 

I managed to limp backstage with the help of vic, who set me down on a random, rundown couch with a bottle of water. I lean back with closed eyes, until the weight shifts that is. I crack an eye open, nicholas sits next to me. “So i’m just ticking you all off one by one huh?” i murmur, closing my eyes. “You could say that i guess. Hey i heard through the grapevine about what happened yesterday. You okay?” i take a sip of water, allowing the cold liquid to soothe my throat before speaking again. “This water is good.” “you didn’t answer my question.” he uncrosses his arms, leaning back a little. “I don’t want to lie to you” i shoot back. He grins. “Ive missed you, bella.” he side hugs me, narrowly missing my bruise. I just hum in response. “Hows the rockstar life?” i ask, he tilts his head. “Its okay i guess. I really do miss having you around bella-” he starts again. “Hey, we’re on in five.” noah calls out, briefly walking past the room, he avoids eye contact. 

Its almost like im a thorn in his side. 

I probably am, honestly. 

______________________________

I can’t even lie, bad omens stage presence is phenomenal. Its exhilarating and exhausting all at the same time. They give every concert their all, its admirable. However, unfortunately we were allocated the time slot AFTER them. I hobble towards side stage, taking deep breaths. Leo gives me one of his bullshit pep talks. “I’m not even anxious, just unsure how im supposed to do this.” i laugh, pulling myself up the stairs. 

“Hey australia how we feeling!!!??” I call out, genuinely trying  to muster up ANY ounce of energy. “So yesterday i took quite the fall, and now im covered in bruises, so i need YOU guys to give it your all!!” 

We launch right into our set, the crowd menacing once again. During each set i allocated 5 minutes at the end to play whatever song i please. 

“So i intended to perform doomed today, because i know yall love oli sykes. But considering im uhhh a bit.. Limited. We are gonna sing a bit of sleep token.” 

Gene begins to play the opening chords to “the love you want” 

Everyone and their mother knew how much i loved sleeptoken, how much noah did. However i was dumbfounded when i spotted him standing side stage, his gaze boring into the bruises on my left side. Fuck. this just got an awful lot more awkward. I finish off on stage, managing to slip past him in a timely manner despite being injured. I collapse on to a leather couch, exhausted. 

I lay there for a while, watching the different bands filter past. Eventually, i hobble my ass out of there, humming mindlessly. 

“Give by sleeptoken huh?” 

I actually nearly shit myself, my heart falling to my ass. 

“Can i help you?” i respond, turning around to face noah. I can’t pinpoint what flashes across his face. “Its been a while arabella.” he shifts awkwardly. I nod, we stand awkwardly, the wind picks up. “We should really talk.” he breaks the silence, taking a step forward. 

I step backwards, muttering “ill think about it.” before escaping to my bus. I shut and lock the bus door, sliding down it. Shit. Shit. I just fucking ran away from him. 

“You good?” leo asks, handing me a beer. “Just ran into noah.” i breathe out, taking a sip. He joins me on the floor. “How’d that go? You wanna talk about it?” i sigh. Gene and lucy join us. “What even happened between you two” lucy questions, cradling a vodka cruiser. 

“He started dating this girl and got really distant. She told him to drop me, eventually i got so sick of it i tried to walk out and we got into an argument. He said… some stuff, so i got the hell out of there.” i summarise, avoiding eye contact. Leo elbows me, “you wanna say the rest?” 

I cringe, the whole situation not having been my best moment. 

“Okaywellyeahihadacrushonhim butineveractedonitsoidontknowwhyshewassomad-”             

Leo laughs. 

“Im fuckin doomed for eternity, he wants to talk” 

____________________________

“I think you should.” danielle says, crowded around a bar table in a bustling underground joint. I shake my head. “Do i even bother though? How do i know hes not going to just reprimand me for what happened?” i groan, my head in my hands. Vic hands me a much needed drink. I sigh, unsure of what to really do with myself. 

A couple drinks in, vic whisks dani away to the dancefloor, leaving me alone. I toy with the straw of my drink, running my fingers over the rim. Somebody sits opposite me. I look up, meeting the eyes of folio. “You okay?” he asks, signature grin slapped across his face. “I’m good, you?” i answer, trying to make smalltalk. He replies with a nod, downing the rest of his drink. “Shouldn’t you be with the boys?” my voice is quiet, small. “Nicholas and noah are god knows where. Jollys chatting up some girl. Didn’t wanna kill his vibe. Plus you looked sad so….” 

Right. He was only here because he pitied me. Just like the rest of them. “”Nick, it was great talking to you but i think im gonna head back to the buses.” I say, packing my things up. “Oh- okay. Get there safely.” he smiles, pulling me into a hug. I step out, exhausted. I slip towards the side alley, reaching for a cigarette in my bra. I lean my head back on the cold brick wall, the night air was cold compared to the short dress i was wearing. I was honestly a mess… this was all so…. Confronting. 

I wait patiently for my uber, wanting to get the hell out of here. “You got a lighter?” i gulp, turning around. Im face to face with his chest. Fuck i forgot hes a fucking giant. I look up at him, nodding. I watch him light a joint, leaning on the wall next to me. “You wanna talk.. Or..?” 

I take a deep breath. Contemplating every single life choice.

“Are you and her still together?” i ask, rubbing my hands on my thighs anxiously. He shakes his head, taking a drag. “I broke up with natasha four years ago.” i hum, so they stayed together a whole year after i left. I look up at the night sky, unsure of what to say next. 

“Im sorry for what i said to you.” 

Im almost immediately agitated. “You hurt me noah.” he rubs his face, handing me the joint. “You don’t think i don’t know that?! I watched you walk out that door knowing there was nothing i could do-” “there was SO much you could fucking do.” 

Its silent for a moment. 

“She threatened me that day.”

“What?” 

“Natasha. She slashed my tires.” 

Hes honestly.. Taken aback. 

“Sorry?” 

“She told me you’d never love me. That i was pitiful for thinking i had a chance.” i swallow, avoiding eye contact. 

“Bella-”

I take a drag. “I’m sorry noah.” 

“What for..?” he says, almost holding his breath. 

“I told you that i hoped you’d feel sick to your stomach when you hear my name.” i laugh bitterly. 

He nods. 

“Uhh… not exactly far from the truth.” 

We sit in comfortable silence, just smoking. 

“I broke up with her because she cheated on me. Shes a tattoo artist now, atleast thats what ive heard from nosey interviewers.” he says, effectively breaking the silence. 

I don’t say anything, staring at the ground. It starts to rain. 

“We weren’t supposed to end like this.” he speaks again.

“Atleast not in my dreams.” i laugh. 

“Chase two girls, lose the one.” noah says, looking down the alleyway. 

I look at him quizzically. 

“Wait. you liked me?” 

“Like.”

fuck this. I need to go, i need to get away from him. Fuck. fuck im going to fuck something up. I shouldn’t of done this. 

My heels click as i begin to run away again, wiping frantic tears. He reaches for my wrist, his fingers warm compared to the coldness of the night. pulling me back to him like a safety net. Almost immediately i wrap my arms around his waist, sobbing. 

“I don’t hate you” i wail, he sighs, stroking my hair. 

I shouldn’t be doing this. 

“I know bella.” he murmurs, tightening his grip on my waist. 

“I should.” i sniffle, looking up at his doe brown eyes. 

“You should. And it makes me the luckiest bastard in the world that you can’t manage to.” 

[dangerpronebuddie]

Buddie - “There are people who love you, you know”

For you, Inell! <3 (I am so sorry this took me so long).

Buck withdraws his hands as Eddie stands, wincing as the movement aggravates his sore muscles. Buck’s shoulders drop and he tosses the ice pack he’d been pressing to Eddie’s shoulder blade onto the bench. “There are people who love you, you know,” Buck says firmly. He feels like he’s having an argument with himself. Like he’s looking for a fight he has no right to chase. It wasn’t Eddie’s fault the ceiling caved in. It’s not Eddie’s fault Buck blames him anyway. Like Eddie tried to leave him. Eddie scoffs and continues to rifle through his locker. “Are there?” “You know there are,” Buck says, moving to stand beside Eddie. The scratches across his face look better after his shower, but they won’t heal for a few days. Buck is more concerned about the wounds he can’t see.  The fear from watching Eddie disappear in the rubble has faded. He’ll have a new nightmare to add to the rotation but he doesn’t care as long as Eddie is here.  “My son hates me,” Eddie says. He slams his locker closed and turns to face Buck. “My parents hate me. My sisters won’t speak to me. Hen and Chim have their own shit going on, so does Bobby, and I…” He swallows thickly and ducks his head. “What do I have left?” The helplessness in Eddie’s voice breaks Buck’s heart in two. How could Eddie not know?  Maddie’s words from their talk yesterday echo in his head.  “How does he not know, Maddie?” Buck had cried after Eddie had confessed he was afraid he’s doomed to be alone, even after Buck had told him it wasn’t true. Because he always had Buck. “Because you haven’t told him,” she had said in her best Big Sister voice.  Buck opens his mouth to speak, but he finds he doesn’t have the words to express it all. Instead, he gingerly cups Eddie’s cheek, tilting his head up.  Eddie looks up at him, tears shining in the warm brown. Buck leans down and presses a careful kiss to the scrape across his cheek, then the bruise beneath his eye. Eddie’s breath catches in his throat.  “Buck,” he whispers, his voice trembling.  “You have me,” Buck says, more certain than he’s ever been before. He presses a featherlight kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth and swipes his thumb there as he meets Eddie’s eyes again. “You’ll always have me.” “When you tell me there are people who love me…” Eddie trails off.  “I mean me,” Buck confesses. It’s not the best time, but it may be the perfect time. “I love you, Eddie. Chris does too, and you know that. It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay.” Eddie sighs and nods as best he can with Buck still cupping his cheek. He presses into the touch and Buck’s heart swells. “We’re gonna be okay.”  When Eddie cups the back of his neck to draw him into a soft kiss, Buck starts to think Eddie believes him.

Send me a sentence for a buddie drabble!

[secretlywritingstories]

"You look at my face a lot" | Phan one shot

Summary: Phil has a pretty new eyebrow slit but Dan decides that he could use a little make-up to highlight it. They end up in bed with Dan hovering close to Phil's face trying to do a good job while he's also trying not to ravish him or get (too) sappy.

Tags: 2024!phan, established relationship, domestic fluff, homoerotic make-up application

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: This fic is inspired by two things 1) Dan and Phil's birthday charity livestream where Dan manhandles Phil's face to give him the eyebrow slit and 2) this photo of lesbians doing each other's make up

Read on AO3 or below

The charity livestream for Phil’s birthday had gone much better than any of them had ever anticipated, even with all the technical issues. It was a good thing that their audience knew to expect chaos for them and hopefully found it endearing.

Still, Dan felt like he’d underestimated just how impactful their audience could be. He almost felt bad to have forgotten about it, when he got all wrapped up in his own head. But they’d reminded him so graciously in the last few months and tonight had just further cemented that.

He was happy to be back online, making videos regularly and he was hopeful for more live content too. Phil had dragged him back to the internet, and while he hadn’t been kicking and screaming, he had been digging his feet in. Now he was letting his heels rise and just enjoy it.

Last night had been fun and they’d both been riding that high for several hours afterwards. It had made it hard to get up for a tour meeting the following day, when he’d rather just stay wrapped up in bed with Phil or have a lazy breakfast together while they watched anime. Before he had slipped out of bed, he’d reached over to touch Phil’s face, and swipe a thumb across the new eyebrow slit. It really did suit him well, and Dan was quite excited to be matching with him soon.

He made himself leave the house. The we’re all doomed tour was important to him and it was time for the grand finale. It would be good. Less scary now that he’d dragged Phil into helping him with the live premiere. Unlike the other way around, there had been no need for dragging of any kind. Just a question and a quick agreement. Dan would never stop loving that aspect of Phil.

The meeting dragged on but he’d gotten a lot of questions answered and stuff planned. It had been months since the last show and he was worrying that the two shows would feel like starting over again. He was about to grab a taxi and head straight back home when he spotted a Sephora and had an interesting thought. A pull, if you will.

Something that might help bring Phil’s eyebrow slit the attention that it deserved. Give the blond hairs at the end a little bit of a lift.

He stuffed his purchase into his coat pocket and headed home to Phil. When he got home, Phil was in meercat mode, trying to avoid the never-ending builders in their home. Dan was very ready to have their home all to themselves, but they’d agreed to stick it out until everything they’d wanted was done. And between delayed materials and conflicting schedules for the workers, it had just taken ages.

“I’ve got a surprise for you later when we need to film later,” Dan had told Phil when he’d found him pretending not to be hiding in the office.

Phil had perked up. “Delayed birthday present?”

Dan had chuckled but shook his head. “Yesterday wasn’t enough?” he asked.

“You can never have too much birthday fun,” he countered and tried to wiggle his eyebrows.

It was about as successful as he was trying to wink, but it only made it the more endearing. It also drew attention to that eyebrow slit. Dan knew his eyes lingered on it.

“You really like it, huh?” Phil said, turning his head to give Dan a better view.

“Still a little emo kid at heart,” Dan muttered.

He did feel like that sometimes. As if he’d never really grown up, despite all that he’d done and all of the adulting he did now. So many responsibilities. Enough to overwhelm him at times. It was good that he shared most of those with Phil. It helped when they could share the weight.

“Should we be worried you’re entering your crisis twink era? About to break out the bleach?”

“I thought I wasn’t a twink anymore?” Dan teased. Phil had told him that last time he’d been on Dystopia Daily.

“Wasn’t that me?” Phil asked and there was a bit of a glimmer in his eyes.

If there weren’t builders in the house, perhaps Dan would have done something about it. Moved close and showed Phil that he was just as attractive as when they’d been young, if not more.

It was a gift seeing how they were changing. Phil letting his grey coming in should not have been as attractive as it was but Dan loved that he wasn’t hiding it anymore. In December when they’d looked back at themselves for the first decade of their relationship through the pinof videos, he’d not recognised himself at first. They were so different now, but they’d grown together. Hand in hand.

It wasn’t until their house was blessedly vacant of strangers, they’d devoured the Indian takeaway for dinner and they were about to set up to film a gaming video that Dan went to retrieve the item from his coat pocket.

“What’s that?” Phil asked, tapping away on the keyboard to bring up their recording software. “A pencil?”

“Yes,” Dan said twirling it between his fingers. And nearly dropping it. “Eyebrow pencil.”

That caught Phil’s attention and he moved up from his seat at the desk. “You bought an eyebrow pencil?”

He nodded and handed it over to Phil who was already making grabby hands.

Dan had felt wildly out of his depths as he’d stood staring at the rows and rows of make-up products. He didn’t know enough to make an informed decision but asking someone had also felt too daunting. He’d eventually caved and asked for help, only to be asked about the colours was of the person he’d be buying for.

He wasn’t confident enough to whip out a picture of Phil, so instead he’d tried to fumble his way through explaining the natural colours of Phil’s brows. It was a good thing that he had a lot of practice looking at Phil’s face. His eyebrows especially last night. Beautiful high arches, hair lightening from the middle out to the tails.

“Are you dissing my eyebrows?” Phil asked, removing the cap from the pencil and looking at it with suspicion.

Dan rolled his eyes, as if he’d ever diss anything about Phil’s face. Anything about Phil at all. It was his favourite face. He knew he was happy to wake up to it every day. He would however jest and play around nonetheless.  

“Not my fault your hairs are so pale,” he said with a smirk and then a hyena laugh escaped him at the mock offended expression on Phil’s face.

But he could see how Phil was studying the pencil with genuine interest and he was glad that he’d given into the impulse purchase. He loved when Phil was feeling himself. There was nothing hotter than when Phil realised that he was a fucking catch and looked good. Dan had known forever but it was different hearing it from someone who loved you and thinking it yourself.

“I’ll be right back,” Phil said, pencil clutched in his hand as he walked out of the room.

Dan took over at the desk, checking their camera was set up correctly and opened Steam on Poppy Playtime. They knew it would be a long video since they were going to do the whole chapter in one go. It was time to settle in for a long haul. Proper gaming YouTubers.

Phil was missing for longer than Dan had anticipated, so he went searching for him and he was surprised that he was in the bedroom in front of the big mirror rather than going to the bathroom and getting proper lightening.

“What are you doing?” Dan asked, leaning against the doorway to just observe. “That’s terrible lightening.”

“I think I’m going to mess it up,” Phil said, still staring at his reflection. “And I don’t like putting a pencil near my eye.”

A ploy. Phil wanted help. He wanted Dan to offer help. If his heart wasn’t so fond, then he’d perhaps laughed at him. He could just have asked but this was more of Phil’s style.

“You put contacts in at least a couple of times a week,” Dan reminded him as he walked into the bedroom. “Shouldn’t your fingers going into your eye be more scare than a pencil on your eyebrow?”

“Yes,” Phil conceded but he was already wearing his pleading expression. “But I have practice with that now, and the finger is not going into the eye. I hated it at first too. Might never have gotten used to it, if I hadn’t thought glasses looked too dorky.”

“I love your glasses,” Dan said, and walked up behind Phil to grab around his midriff. Pull him back against his chest and stare at their reflection together.

Phil snorted. “You didn’t see the first pair I got.”

No, he hadn’t. Whenever Phil mentioned something about himself that Dan didn’t know, or didn’t have been a part of, there was a little tug. Curiosity to learn more about him. Even after all this time, there was always more and he always wanted to know.

“I haven’t seen them in pictures?” he asked, hooking his chin over Phil’s shoulder and slumping against him. Just because he could.

“No, I think I made mum burn all of them,” Phil said and met Dan’s eyes in the mirror. “Help me with this?”

He wiggled the eyebrow pencil. And there it was. Dan had just been waiting for him to say it.

Dan hummed in agreement and grabbed Phil’s arm to drag him to the bathroom to get good lightening. He had almost pulled them out of the room before another possible location hit him. The bathroom was undoubtedly the most practical, but the other option would be more fun. Dan changed directions and dragged Phil towards the bed.

“I thought we were filming?” he asked, a laugh barely off his lips.

Dan resisted the urge to kiss it right off him.

“We are,” Dan insisted, even as he pushed Phil onto the bed. “Scoot up, head close to the headboard.”

Phil looked at him with narrowed eyes but complied all the same, moving the pillow up with him and lying down. Dan didn’t waste any time straddling his torso and he delighted in the way that Phil’s breath hitched. Just a little. Almost enough to distract him.

Almost.

He reached for the lamp above their bed and twisted it until it was all up in Phil’s face. He winced, shutting his eyes and throwing a hand over them.

“Warning next time? You just made me blind.”

“You were already blind.”

“Well, I’m double-blind now. I’m going to start to see black spots and rainbows,” he said moving his hand and turning his face away from the light as he started to blink rapidly.

“Black and rainbows, huh? You and me?”

“Shut up,” Phil said and slapped a hand against the outside of Dan’s thigh.

It was so easy to laugh and lean closer. He’d sat too far up on Phil’s torso to do this without breaking his back. He scooted down until he was sitting across Phil’s hips. Phil looked one second away from bucking him off judging by the playful expression in his eyes.

“Come here, you’re the one who wanted help,” Dan said and leaned down with the eye brow pencil poised.

“And this was the only way?” Phil asked, amusement in his face until the pencil came close to his eyes and he let them fall shut.

“It’s the only way,” Dan said insistently, as he reached for Phil’s chin to keep him from moving. Phil’s face moved under his touch, lips curving into a smile. “Stay still,” he ordered.

Dan didn’t really have that much experience with make-up either but he had dabbled here and there with his costumes. He always leaned into a more smudged on purpose look, but it was in part because he didn’t have the steady hand or patience to do anything too clean. And he knew himself, he’d be smudging it instantly anyway. It was fun but it was also an effort that he wasn’t sure he’d go through on a regular basis.

He was still happy when he thought about all of the hours that he no longer spent frantically straightening his hair. What a waste of time trying to conform and hide himself, even if he’d needed it back then. He hadn’t been ready but he got there.

He was gentle with the pencil at first, going to the eyebrow that hadn’t been slit. The employee from Sephora had said that the pencil shouldn’t be too dark, if the eyebrows were light, or it would look weird.

The colour was coming off, darkening the brows little by little. Dan focused on the end of the eyebrow where the hair turned the lightest.

“Aren’t you doing the wrong one?” Phil asked, eyes still closed.

Dan moved from grabbing his chin to kind of cradling his face as he gently moved Phil’s head to the side and back to see if he was happy with his work.

“It would look stupid with just one done,” Dan insisted, “you’ll have to do both.”

Phil’s eyes fluttered open and Dan hadn’t realised how close he was leaning in to be able to see properly. It really wasn’t fair that Phil was still able to knock the air out of his lungs after all these years, just as effectively as when they’d first fallen in love.

Dan hadn’t noticed that Phil had let his hand linger on Dan’s thigh, so used to having him close and touching but he noticed now when Phil’s other hand drifted up now in a mirrored position. Holding onto Dan on either side. A familiar look flickered in his eyes and this one wasn’t entirely playful.

“We need to film,” Phil said, even as his eyes darted down to Dan’s lips. It sounded more like it was a reminder to himself than to Dan. Just for that Dan wanted to lean closer and close the distance. But there was something about this too. The tension in the air between them. So close and touching but not there.

“I’m going to do the other one,” Dan announced, and he would have thought that Phil would close his eyes again but he was surprised when they stayed open. Attentive in a way that saw straight through him.

He was more careful now, mindful of avoiding the slit he’d shaved into Phil’s eyebrow just last night. It had been a little nerve-wracking to do it on camera, even if it was by far not the most stupid thing, they’d done on camera together. He’d wanted to make it look good, more focused on being precise and doing a good job, not even caring as he turned his back to the camera.

But this was different. There was no camera right now. Only the two of them in their home. In their bedroom. Dan really had brought this upon himself. There was no desire to perform to keep him in check.

He carefully swiped across the eyebrow on either side of the slit, watching the colour take. He did it gently with all of his focus, even if was much harder now that Phil seemed unable to look away from him.

Dan wasn’t entirely sure what Phil saw as he watched his face. Concentration. Determination. Love.

Dan had never quite been able to stop himself from letting it leak out whenever he was with Phil. He couldn’t even start to try and put it into words. He’d hit some pretty good metaphors for their relationships through the years but it was always just a little part of it. A quick glimpse into what they really were to each other. All of the different ways that they loved each other.

Phil still hadn’t been able to convince Dan that they were soulmates, because for that to happen soulmates had to exist, like something predetermined. He didn’t like that. They had found each other and fought for each other. He didn’t want to give fate credit for having them stick together.

No, that was all on them. He was sure of it.

Phil’s hands were warm on his thighs and he could feel him breathing calmly under him, moving both of their bodies a tiny bit with each inhale and exhale. Dan’s lower back hurt a little in this position, and he had a feeling the elbow he was leaning on was going numb but it didn’t matter.

They were suspended in that moment. Just the two of them, only the sound of their breathing and the gentle scratch of the eyebrow pencil.

He wanted to stay in the moment, but he wanted to do a good job more. He wasn’t going to overdo it. He pulled back, breathing deep for the first time in minutes as he tilted Phil’s head towards the light to survey his work.

It made a difference. The slit really got to have a moment to shine now that the hairs on either side was more defined.

“Good?” Phil asked, still lax in Dan’s hold.

“Yeah,” Dan said and his voice came out with a little grumble. He cleared his throat. “You look good.”

Phil was looking at Dan like he knew exactly what he was thinking. He let his hands trail up Dan’s thighs, going towards his ass. Dan was prepared for a grope. He was not prepared for Phil to grab his hips and toss him onto the mattress instead.

Dan let out an undignified squawk, bouncing on the bed while Phil got up, almost stumbling as he was laughing too much at Dan’s reaction.

“Traitor,” Dan grumbled, crossing his arms. “This is what I get for helping you!”

“You have to be nice to the birthday boy,” Phil said and walked over to the mirror.

“Your birthday ended yesterday,” Dan reminded him.

“We still have that party on Sunday, so it’s not over until then,” Phil reminded him, which really was only Phil logic. “Wow, it looks nice!”

And with that one comment, all of the fake annoyance at being tossed away rather than having his ass grabbed evaporated. Dan sat up and got up from the bed.

“Yeah?”

He hadn’t meant to latch onto Phil again, like he’d done before they’d gotten onto the bed, but it was instinct. If Phil asked, he’d just claim it was to see better, even if he didn’t need to wind his arms around Phil for that. Phil would see through it, but also allow it.

“Really good, I’m hot,” Phil said, with a grin and Dan snorted, trying to hide in Phil’s shoulder as he was shaking with laughter. “Don’t laugh!”

It didn’t stop Dan’s laughter but it did make Dan lift his head. “You’re always hot,” he said, breath hot against Phil’s neck just to be mean.

They really had to film but this was fun. Maybe Dan finally understood the inherent intimacy of doing someone’s make up. The couple of times that they’d been putting stuff on each other’s faces, they had usually been blindfolded and drawing cat faces or just slapping make-up on.

Though he guessed that when they were drawing whiskers on each other’s faces came close. Not exactly because they had been on camera and they were in the very chaotic mindset that those videos required. They’d drawn whiskers on each other for each TATINOF performance and removing them too, but that had been rushed, almost frantic while they were high on adrenalin.

Nothing quite like this. Quiet. Intimate. Between just them.

“You’re going to look good with one too,” Phil said, holding onto Dan’s arms around him, giving him a little squeeze. “I almost regret stopping you on the stream.”

“This alternate is better,” Dan said. “You get to have all the attention now, and I’ll get it on the 25th.”

“You were always going to get all the attention then,” Phil said with a soft laugh and he was swaying them a little from side to side. Like he was listening to a song only he could hear. Through their movements, Dan could almost hear it too. “It’s your big baby. Your show.”

Dan hummed. It had been his big baby and he had been happy about it. The tour itself had encountered issues here and there, things he’d rather not think about but he was happy with what he’d made and how the audience had reacted to it.

It had been exciting and he’d been looking to prove something for himself. He could do it on his own. He didn’t need Phil.

But he wanted him.

He wanted him so much.

The tour had only proved that further. He’d missed him at his side. It was maybe one of the reasons it had been easier to lean back into the gaming channel together. They were good. They’d always known that but to see that they hadn’t lost their touch was incredible. If anything, Dan felt like they might be better than ever.

They were out now. All of the gay jokes they’d previously passed up or edited out was included. There was a deep understanding with the audience. It was so much fun.

“Thank you for helping me,” Phil said, speaking so softly in the quiet room. Like he’d sensed that Dan’s thoughts had drifting off for a moment and he was gently bringing him back to shore before he drifted out too far.

Phil never needed to thank him for that. Dan would do anything for him.

“Let’s go film,” Dan said, reluctantly pulling away from the warmth of Phil’s body. “And then afterwards, I’m going to show you just how hot you look and get all up in that slit.”

He wiggled his own eyebrows and dodged out of the way as Phil pulled a disgusted face and tried to hit him. To pacify him, Dan grabbed Phil’s face in both hands and as expected, he went still at the touch. Let Dan hold him, even with the mirth still shining in his eyes.

Dan was never going to tire of looking at this face, even with every change it might go through. Aging, modifications, anything. Phil’s face and gazing into his eyes would always be home.

“Come on,” Phil said grabbing Dan’s wrist and then intertwining their fingers. “If you’re looking at me like that, we’ll not be able to film.”

Dan chuckled, shaking his head in disagreement, even if he knew Phil was right. The urge to toss him back on the bed ran deep and he should rein it in.

He let Phil drag him down the hall, as always trusting Phil whenever he dragged him anywhere.

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #11

Devil May Cry - #11 - Firearm

*

“Watch your back,” Nero said, stabbing a demon that had been trying to sneak up on Vergil.

Vergil grit his teeth. “If I’m watching my back, I’m not watching the ones attacking in front. Or from the sides. Or even from above.”

“Yea, yea, we’re surrounded,” Nero said, swinging his sword in a rough arc to smack away a few more of the small yet fierce demons attacking them. 

They’d been hired to deal with the infestation, but it was much worse than they’d imagined. Vergil didn’t want to admit that he was growing tired, but he knew it was starting to show in his reduced speed and his weaker swings. He’d been working a job all day yesterday with Dante. Dante was sleeping off an injury, so Nero had offered to come along for this job. 

Vergil had no time to rest before coming out here. He swiped sweat from his forehead before deftly dodging an attack and stabbing three demons in quick succession.

He felt like no matter how many he killed, more just kept coming. It was like a never ending horde of the damn things. 

It didn’t seem to bother Nero, who was rested and ready to fight. He leapt about, slashing and shooting at demons, seeming to enjoy himself. At times, Vergil was fairly certain the boy was just trying to show off, but he was too focused on keeping himself going to bother lecturing Nero about it. 

Vergil raised the Yamato to deflect a demon leaping at him. But, as Nero had warned, he was not watching his back.

A sharp pain ran down his arm before it went numb and he dropped the Yamato in surprise. One of the demons had viciously slashed Vergil’s arm, blood pouring down from the dangerously deep gash tearing down it. 

Nero was there in a flash, sword piercing the demon and flinging its corpse off Vergil. “Vergil?”

“I’m fine.” He reached for his sword, realized he still couldn’t feel his hand, and lifted it in his nondominant hand. 

“Yea, fine,” Nero said, raising an eyebrow. “You can’t keep up like this, Vergil.”

“I’ll be fine,” Vergil said firmly. “I’ve fought in worse condition.”

Nero had no more time to argue with Vergil as another onslaught came at them and they were separated trying to keep themselves alive. Vergil felt frustration gnawing at him as he struggled to keep up with the demons now. He was slower than usual and down his dominant arm. He couldn’t keep this up much longer before mistakes slipped in.

“Vergil!”

Vergil spun just in time to see the weapon thrown his way. He sheathed Yamato and caught the weapon in a quick motion.

A gun. He shot Nero a look.

“Easier than a sword,” Nero said, his own gun out as he fired on the demons. “Quicker, too. But it’s one I was carrying for Nico, so don’t damage it or you’ve gotta pay for it.”

Nero’s gun did seem to be making quicker work of the demons than their swords had. Perhaps this one time, he’d allow the use of such a weapon.

“Nero,” he said.

Nero didn’t have to be told; he ran to Vergil’s side as if this was their hundredth time doing this, not their first. They pressed back to back, aiming their guns as the demons changed course and charged at them.

Vergil rolled his shoulders in preparation, finger tightening on the trigger. “Jackpot.”

They began to fire, maneuvering together with an ease that was surprising given their limited experience in combat together. Vergil found he could easily predict Nero’s movements and adapt to them to cover Nero’s weak points.

As the final demon fell dead, Vergil lowered the gun. The feeling was starting to come back into his arm, making it tingle. He passed the gun back to Nero.

“Hey, what was up with that? Jackpot, I mean. Sounded like some kinda corny catchphrase,” Nero said.

Vergil had to turn so Nero would not see the color rising in his cheeks. He’d forgotten Nero didn’t know about that. It had just felt so natural to be back to back with Nero, that it had slipped out.

“Nothing,” he said. “We should go.”

Nero shrugged it off. “Yea, sure. Let me tend to that wound, first. You're getting blood everywhere.” 

Vergil had no desire for Nero to take care of his wound, but Nero insisted. Vergil was too tired to fight about it, and eventually sat down, offering his injured arm to Nero.

Nero wrapped it carefully, a grin coming to his face as he did so. “I recall you being judging towards guns. Not such a bad option after all, huh?”

“Shut up,” Vergil said. “Or I’ll consider their use in silencing you.”

Nero snickered. “Sure, Vergil. Might as well hold on to this for now; might be more demons crawling about.”

Vergil glared but took the gun because, yes, it was helpful. In this one situation, at least.

Nero stood and offered his hand to Vergil. After a moment, Vergil took it.

He opened his mouth, something in him suddenly wanting to tell Nero all about the meaning behind jackpot. Wanting to train more with the boy because they worked surprisingly well together.

But then he closed it slowly. There was no need to tell Nero about any of that; actions spoke louder than words.

And so when they came across the next horde, Vergil moved right to Nero’s side, their guns drawn without having to speak to each other.

[bengiyo]

Hi! I have a few questions I hope you don't mind me asking. Would you say that you like Lovely Writer more than I Feel You Linger In The Air considering the LW is a 9.5 in your book but IFYLITA is only a 9. And even though IFYLITA is only a 9, do you think you would include it within your Queer Cinema for BL Syllabus considering other notable aspects about it

Hello! I don’t mind questions at all.

Ratings are Recommendations for Me

Before we get into why each show got a different score, I think it’s important to explain my ratings system again. I come from the land of media criticism, and the primary question for me is “How easy is this to recommend to people?” I secretly use a five-stars system (5 Great, 1 Terrible) that I simple double for the 10 stars of MDL that basically works as such:

No one should watch this. It is incoherent, poorly made, and offensive.

Only genre fans could appreciate anything happening here, but it’s still offensive and/or poorly made.

Genre fans can appreciate this show, but it has major flaws in execution, narrative, or themes.

Genre fans will love this. Strong execution overall but requires some familiarity to truly appreciate.

Everyone will love this and is a fine entry point for the genre. Excellent execution and strong storytelling.

Bad Buddy is a 9.5 for me because, while it is an excellent project, the episode 12 first half sucks so hard

So why does IFYLITA get a lower score than Lovely Writer?

IFYLITA is a beautiful show with strong performances across the entire cast. However, it is a time travel show in which I don’t exactly know what the point of the time travel is, other than to enable a historical romance and enable the storyteller to play with that setting from the modern perspective. I don’t know why Jom is being dragged around the time stream or why he’s doomed to fall in love with and be torn from Yai repeatedly.

Additionally, this is a slavery romance. I am a Black gay man born and raised in the South. Solomon Northup’s autobiography is required reading, as are other first person accounts of chattel slavery in the US and the way the North surrendered Reconstruction to the South. I also watched Kindred this year after having not read Octavia Butler’s work in a long time. I am not a person who typically enjoys the power dynamics of historical romance, and I really don’t like slavery romances. I was talking with @lurkingshan yesterday about how much I didn’t like Jom and Maey sitting on the floor as Eaeang Phueng says goodbye to her family.

Finally, I think Lovely Writer is more coherent. It’s a single-season story about a potential romance between a BL actor and a BL writer. The show goes on to unpack all of the complexities surrounding these two as they are forced to collaborate and cohabitate during the filming of a show. IFYTLITA muddles its ending, and we have been reliant on spoilers from book readers to make sense of what the hell happened at the end of the episode. I don’t like that. I hate when we’re reliant on commentary from the source media to understand what the hell happened in an adaptation.

So, because of these particular issues, Lovely Writer is slightly easier for me to recommend to people over I Feel You Linger in the Air. Despite how Nonkul and Bright delivered on what may be the most accessible romantic chemistry of the year, and how much I loved the way this show tastefully approached m/m intimacy and sex, the show has some stumbles that I think diminish it slightly. I think episode 11 is incredible. I think Episode 10 is too pat. I think Episode 12 is hedging too much on a potential second season and doesn’t close off season 1 in a way that’s satisfying for me.

These are all bigger or smaller issues than others. I also very, very rarely go back and change my ratings for shows based on modern circumstances. Lovely Writer was special when it released. We don’t get IFYLITA without Lovely Writer. When I finished Lovely Writer, I thought it was one of the best shows of the year and I thought every BL fan needed to watch it. It doesn’t get a 10 because so much of the drama is about BL itself, and so there is some explaining that’s needed for people who aren’t in genre.

So, to be clear:

For me, Lovely Writer is easier to recommend to people than I Feel You Linger in the Air. That’s the .5 difference between them.

I hope that all made sense. Thanks for the question!

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

day six: tied to a chair

a Vaniah story. word count 1,282.

“You didn’t have to—”

“It was a mistake, okay?” Vaniah exploded. Then he bit his lip and was silent.

“What do you mean?” asked Maria. “It was deliberate. What, did you just—trip and fall on him, holding a razor blade?”

Vaniah closed his eyes. “No. I—I didn’t have a choice.”

She studied him. “You know, I almost believe you.”

Almost.

“But for now, I’m going to stick with Mordecai. He needs me.”

And I don’t? Vaniah wanted to cry out. He needed someone. The people who had loved him no longer did, and he could not run back to his family, even if he’d wanted to. He shook himself mentally. He was strong: he didn’t need people. He was going to make himself strong whatever it took.

As he watched Maria walk away, Vaniah straightened, put his shoulders back and looked around with new eyes. He had been ignoring others in favour of prioritising the chance acquaintances he had made. Now it was time to stop looking to them, or to himself, and to start looking more generally.

He could not afford to have friends. Friends made one hurt.

Jim was standing nearby, and as they made eye contact the commander drifted over to Vaniah’s side. He smiled, took out a pack, offered Vaniah a cigarette.

“Thanks, but no thanks. Not a vice I care to pick up just yet.”

“Give it time,” said Jim, and laughed. “I saw you arguing with Maria,” he added, in a low and unfathomably gentle voice. “Are you okay?”

That’s the first anyone’s asked me that through all the time I’ve been here so far, he thought.

“I’m fine,” Vaniah lied tonelessly. There was too much sympathy in Jim’s eyes.

Leave me be and let me break my heart alone, he wanted to say. But he said nothing.

“Are you sure? If you need any help, anything at all, you can always come to me.”

He should hate this man. He should despise him. Instead he felt rather grateful, aching for the kindness he threw out so casually.

Instead, Vaniah despised and hated himself for needing it.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said at last.

“Just so you know, we’re doing a final exercise with the partners from yesterday and the day before this afternoon.”

A final exercise? “Are you planning on killing us?”

Jim blinked, then the corners of his eyes creased as he smiled. “Every death is a waste and a tragedy. No, we aren’t. It’s just that after this final team-building exercise, we’ll move into the next phase.”

That sounded ominous. “Okay.” What could he do, anyway? He, a small cog in the vast machinery of doom?

The only way he could help anyone in here was to go through it, to get to the other side and do good there. He would help nobody if he gave up now.

He did not realise that he was becoming the monster he had always despised. Yet he still thought he was self-aware, still thought he knew what was happening to him.

He was growing hard and cold, though not yet cruel.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Vaniah pushed through the crowd to Mordecai’s side, getting only a brief glance as he did so. Otherwise, the other boy didn’t react to his presence, which hurt; he would have preferred vilification to this silent treatment, or anything.

He felt justified, however, when Jim told them to get into their pairs again, and he saw everyone else move around trying to find someone. Seneca caught his eye and smiled just before Maria found him. Vaniah wondered vaguely why.

Still, they were near the front of the line, as things happened, and were quickly led into the same room they had been in for the previous two days. Vaniah felt a spike of satisfaction as he saw a different doctor behind the mask, a doctor who appeared to show something of wariness.

“Vaniah,” said the unknown voice, “sit down in the chair.”

Seriously, why did they have to bring in a chair every time? Why not just keep a chair in that room? Was it to build suspense, maybe? He did so, relieved that it wasn’t Mordecai again. The other boy loomed over him, but didn’t look at him.

The ropes were tight around his wrists and ankles, tighter than the other day when he’d been tied up to watch Mordecai’s beating; it hurt, but he swallowed the pain and made it part of him. He deserved this: this and a great deal more. He watched without curiosity or trepidation as the doctor took out a razor blade. This sounded like yesterday… only switched.

Well, watch Vaniah caring what happened to him.

“Use this to cut Vaniah.”

Same words as yesterday. And being in the victim’s chair sounded a hell of a lot easier than it had been being the aggressor yesterday. Mordecai did not look at him. I forgive you, Vaniah wanted to say, but he remained silent. Mordecai stood irresolute. The bandage on his forearm stood out. I did that to you, Vaniah thought, and silently begged for the other to move. Anything, even (or especially) pain, was better than watching the other turn things over in his mind.

“I forgive you,” said Vaniah at last. “Go ahead, Mordecai.”

The other stared at him for a long moment, then his face contorted and he said, “No!”

It felt like a punch in the gut, or a betrayal.

“I won’t.” He turned and handed the blade back to the doctor, who took it without protest. “I can’t—not to my friend.—Or anyone.”

Vaniah discovered he was crying. “You’re a better man than me,” he said through his tears. “I’m sorry.”

Mordecai crumpled to the ground like a used tissue. “I shouldn’t have condemned you,” he said. The black eyes still stood out starkly on his face. “I’m sorry.”

“Can you forgive me?” asked Vaniah. He would have wiped his eyes but his arms were tied fast.

Looking like a thundercloud, the doctor left the room; neither boy particularly noticed it.

Mordecai closed his eyes and then covered his face wearily. “I’ll try,” he said.

“I felt like I had no choice,” admitted Vaniah. “I did. I’m sorry.”

“You always have a choice,” said a voice behind him.

Vaniah would have turned if he could. “You told me yesterday that I had no choice!” he accused Jim.

“I misspoke. You can always choose. But you must remember always that some violence is necessary.”

“This isn’t,” said Vaniah, voice heavy.

“You can’t tell if this is necessary right now,” disagreed Jim. “The fact that you can’t see the necessity doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

“What are you doing to us?”

Jim moved suddenly, something in his hand flashed, and a line of pain appeared on Vaniah’s arm. “Refining you.”

“Why are you hurting us?”

“Needs must.”

Vaniah stared at the wound on his arm. It looked very similar to the one he had given Mordecai yesterday, now covered by a bandage.

“To be the aggressor in situations you need to be, you must understand being the victim first, or we risk people doing the wrong thing in giving justice.”

“What if becoming the victim breaks us?” Vaniah voiced his deepest fear.

“Then you weren’t the right person for this job. I believe you can be, Vaniah. So can you, Mordecai. And injuring one another as a mark of brotherhood is an ancient and well respected tradition.”

Shouldn’t we take care of one another before hurting one another? Vaniah wanted to ask. Can’t we love, instead of hate? But he remained silent, staring at the blood dripping slowly down his arm.

[serensama]

In Sacrifice, Glory: Chapter 2

My never ending love and thanks to @illneverrecover and @femme-moon ❤️

Read on Ao3

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Elissa thanked the Maker that the only people who saluted her the following morning were the soldiers who were stationed around the camp. She still had a distinct feeling that she was being watched, albeit much more covertly than before, but at least she wasn’t in any danger of being asked to bless someone’s baby or heal the wounded with her tears. 

Elissa rolled the dull ache out of her shoulders as she walked around the small village; She could hear the distinct din of people training to her right, the clanging of metal somehow soothing to her– familiar even. Her feet had found their way back to the merchant to look through his goods, noting the sword she had been admiring the previous day was no longer available. “Someone bought it already, Miss,” the blond man said when he noticed her at his stand. “Not too long after you were looking at it actually.”

Elissa managed to hold in a squeak but couldn’t quite hide her flinch at being spoken to.

“Oh? Thank you for letting me know; it was a fine sword... I think. I don’t know if I know too much about them, but it looked like it would serve its wielder well, Master-?” “Seggrit. Just Seggrit. Not to worry though; you were right, it was a good sword. But I don’t think they bought it because it was a good sword. They bought it because they wanted to believe it received your blessing. Managed to make an extra 2 gold off of that, thanks to you. Please feel free to keep touching anything else you want here.” “Y’know, if you just stopped talking two sentences earlier, Lady Flash Hand here wouldn’t be looking at you like you just whipped out your own sword for her to bless.”

Elissa turned on her heel to see Varric Tethras grinning up at her, Bianca being cleaned on his bent knee. She quickly bid Seggrit a good day and sat on a log beside the charming dwarf, grateful to have someone familiar to talk to.

“Morning Varric,” she greeted as she tucked her bare hands between her legs for warmth.

“Morning Stormy.” Elissa furrowed her brow at him, curious as to the nickname bestowed upon her. He chuckled at her confusion as he searched for a secondary rag to start polishing up his prized crossbow. “Your magic. Hard to ignore all the lightning and thunder you have at your fingertips.” She smiled at the simple term of endearment and agreed that it made sense. He could have dubbed her Thunderella or Sparky-Pants, so she guessed she should be thankful for some small mercies. “It also matches the grey of your eyes. They’re probably the first thing everyone noticed about you—apart from the green glowing hand of doom you got there. Hey, would you pass me that cloth besides you?” He asked with his arm out expectantly.

Elissa mindlessly handed it to him as she felt the words ‘thanks, they actually lean more blue like my father’s’ on the tip of her tongue, except she had no idea if that was correct. She had tried to recall any image of her father, her mother, or any siblings, and nothing came to mind at all. Just a series of doors she needed to unlock in the haze of her mind.

“So now that we’re as alone as we’re ever going to get in a camp full of people, how are you holding up?” He asked with a genuine look of concern. “I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining an army of faithful and becoming somewhat of a figurehead here.” “Urgh, you saw that yesterday?” “The dwarves deep in Orzammar saw that yesterday,” he snorted at her, pleased to see that at least she hadn’t let everything go to her head. “I’m just saying that most people would have spread that kind of character development out over more than a day.”

Elissa kicked at the snow with her boot until the brown earth was revealed, relieved to see the ground hard and real beneath her. “I can barely keep up, Varric,” she said, her voice small but her honesty resonant.

“Well, that makes two of us.”

Elissa looked up at the rogue and smiled, chasing off days of confusion, sadness, and fear from her pretty features. Varric could feel his gut tingle with the well-known feeling he got whenever he looked at Hawke, and he grimaced. That was not a good tingle.

“Listen, I know you want to help and that you’re a good kid; that much is obvious,” he stated as he gently put Bianca away. “But you may want to consider running away at the first chance you get; I’ve written enough tragedies to know where this is going. We’re going to need a miracle to get us out of... whatever this is.”

She nodded, and her expression turned sombre, her mind twisting upon itself to make heads or tails of the entire situation. The Mark. The Mystery Woman. The Sky. The Villain. The Faith. Too much.

“I’m not quite sure that I believe this isn’t still an ale-driven dream and that I’ll wake with no trousers somewhere and a penis drawn on my face.”

Varric laughed loudly and slapped his knee, agreeing that that would be a sight indeed.

“I honestly don’t know if this is all really happening, Varric.”

He stood up and clasped a calloused hand on her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “Me too, Stormy. And if this is all the Maker just winding us up, I hope there is a damn good punchline coming.”

“Yeah... But I just don’t want to be the joke.”

---

Elissa’s expedition around town was a resounding success. From somehow irritating the Quartermaster just by breathing, helping Adan find some misplaced potion notes – which were literally in the first drawer she opened in the cabin he told her to look in – and then Solas.

Solas.

The amount of comfort she found in the older elf was surprising. He was all stories and poetry, and if she were just that little bit more naïve she’d be head over heels in love with the apostate. He never tired of her endless questions, whether it was about magic, his experiences in the Fade, or even his opinion on the lunch they were serving in the tavern; he was always patient and easy with his answers.

Solas allowed his eyes to scan the area around him before leaning towards her, the brunt of his weight held up by his staff.

“And again, she rises. Good morning Miss-” “Good Morning. And it’s just Elissa, Solas,” she chided, eyes squinting at him with mock annoyance.

“My apologies. Elissa,” he corrected himself with a smile, “I could not help but notice during our time out in the field. But... your technique–” “You’re kind to describe whatever I did out there as technique.”

“Ah, well, if you would be amenable to the idea, I would be happy to provide whatever tutelage I can.”

Elissa brightened at the offer, eager to learn all she could after watching the older mage fight. “Yes, of course, thank you. I would really appreciate not electrocuting everyone on the field should I need to sneeze.” “You are too hard on yourself, Elissa, without any help to hone your abilities from the start–” he tried to reason before being cut off with an agitated grumble. “That’s the thing. I don’t know if this is so much a start or a restart, Solas. Like I feel I should know better, but I’m just grasping blindly at air,” she sighed as she leant on the cabin behind him and peered at the green-tinged sky. “I feel like I should know something, but how could I when I don’t even know who I am.” Solas solemnly nodded as he copied her casual stance, the mage looking at the people who went in and out of the apothecary. The two stood in quiet companionship, both seemingly lost within their own thoughts.

“Do you remember the name of the first King of Ferelden?” he asked, suddenly causing Elissa to jump. “Calenhad, of course,” she replied without a moment's hesitation. “The name of the town you grew up in?” “I... Lothering? No... Gwaren? Look, I’m pretty sure I’m Fereldan. I think.” “And the pub in Denerim, what is the name of it?” “The Gnawed Noble.” “How many exalted marches have there been?” “Six. No wait. Seven. No, six– oh, my teacher would kill me.”

“What was the name of that childhood teacher?”

“I... Maker... I don’t know,” she spluttered as her shoulders slumped in disappointment. “How can I know all those things but not know if I’m at least bloody Fereldan? I don’t even know if I’ve been to Denerim, but I must have to be able to tell you that, right?”

“Give yourself some time; there is no need to rush,” he tried to soothe. “I just wanted to test a theory I had– and it seems I was correct. All the memories you seem to have difficulty recollecting are those that pertain to who you are.” Elissa threw her braid back over her shoulder in frustration, a light flush colouring the apples of her cheeks.

“Wonderful, I will be able to recite the family trees of all the great houses of the country, but I will not be able to know if I am deathly allergic to anything I eat. Delightful. I can see it now, the woman who closed the Breach, killed by a strawberry.”

Solas smirked down at her, unable to hide how impressed he was at the young woman’s ability to bounce back from her moment of dejection. “I would not worry too much about errant fruit killing you just yet; remember well that I have offered my help to find these wayward memories of yours,” he reminded as he held up his hand that glowed with a pulse of his mana.

“I know, and I thank you,” she said as she chewed on her bottom lip in irritation. “If it weren’t for the giant threat looming over me and all of Thedas, I would gladly take all the time to mull over things. But as it is, the sooner my forgetful ass remembers everything, the better.”

Solas regarded her with a pensive expression as a surge of unexpected emotion for the girl welled up inside of him, a perfect mixture of empathy, pity, and admiration.

“Oftentimes when things like this happen, it is for a reason Elissa. You have endured a massive ordeal and survived something no one else did. It is likely that your mind is doing its best to shield you – from what I cannot say. However, if the only thing that has gone awry in all this madness is your memory being harder to tap into than before, then it seems we have been given some sort of blessing indeed. Whether it is heavenly given or not, it remains to be seen.”

Elissa turned to face him, tilting her chin up to look into his eyes, mouth slowly curling into a pout. “That was not comforting at all, Solas. In fact, it was the exact opposite of comforting.” Solas brought the back of his hand to his mouth as he laughed through his nose before succumbing to quiet laughter. “You’re an odd, mean old man, Solas,” she said as she playfully deepened her frown, lightly elbowing his bicep.  

“You are not the first to say this, and I’d wager you will not be the last.”

--- After what was a surprisingly pleasant meal at the tavern, Elissa knew there was not much else she could feasibly accomplish without understanding more about the camp and what needed to be done. She had heard that there was a meeting being held at the Chantry and wondered if she should make her way down, if she would even be welcome to sit in and listen to their discussion to learn more about their group. In hindsight, it may have been smarter to say yes to joining their merry band after she had seen what they were like, how they treated their people, and receiving general insurance that they weren’t megalomaniacal cultists hell bent on taking over the world with a new Divine carved out of a giant wheel of cheese.

She rose to try to clear her table but was quickly rushed out by the kindly barmaid, who wouldn’t listen to a word of treating her like everyone else in Haven. With firm but polite hands on her lower back, the woman ushered her out like a disobedient child and bid her return when the sun had set for the evening meal. Elissa could feel the start of a flutter of warmth growing behind her ribcage – the familiarity of being cared for or nagged at – she didn’t know, but it made her eyes sting with emotion unbidden. Shaking off the cold a little more noticeably as she headed up the path towards the Chantry, she hoped that her shiny eyes and reddened nose looked like they were just affected by the weather and not by the lingering sadness she didn’t know how to explain.

Once she had reached the entrance, she paused. Should she wait to be summoned? Should she just go ahead and knock and pop her head in to see if they’d let her in? Should she send for a messenger to ask if she was needed?

“Are you well?”

Elissa congratulated herself for not flinching at the sound of Cassandra’s voice and greeted the taller woman with a slight bob of her head.

“Cassandra. I am well, thank you, yourself?” “I cannot complain. Your hand, does it still trouble you?” She asked as she looked at it pointedly.

Elissa looked at it quickly in case mentioning it sparked anything within the mark and breathed out relieved when it just remained its eerie green self, no flashes of pain to be had– at least, yet.

“You’ve given us more time–” “We, not just me.”

“Semantics. You’ve given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed—provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. But that is not easy to come by,” she advised as they walked together towards the meeting room.

Elissa tried to piece together what that power would look like and paled at the thought of the Inquisition’s entire force standing behind her, only to be unceremoniously squished by an army of Pride demons free falling from the Breach. “Uh, yeah, sounds like fun,” she joked as Cassandra smirked wryly at her.

The Seeker opened the door without preamble and gestured for her to walk into the room, halting the conversation from within immediately. Elissa recognised Leliana easily and was grateful that the woman did not seem to want to slaughter her on sight anymore. Her eyes drifted to another woman, with glorious tanned skin and a wonderful sense of high society fashion. She exuded respectability and held herself with the practised graces of polite society. In truth, when she compared her to Leliana, she did not know who to be more frightened of– the woman who held a dagger or the one with the quill. In between them was a tall, fair-haired man who regarded her with kind civility. In heavy armour and garments of deep red, even if he weren’t so handsome, he would be difficult for anyone to miss in a crowd. Elissa clasped her hands together to stop herself from entertaining anymore of those thoughts lest she tumble down a steep hill of indecency.

“May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces.” He is welcome to command me–

“Such as they are, we have lost many soldiers, and I fear many more before all this is through,” he said with a slight bow at his introduction, his voice even warmer than she had anticipated.  

“This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.” “I have heard much; it is a pleasure to meet you at last,” the woman with the fantastic outfit greeted, manoeuvring her writing board slightly so as not to spill any ink.

“And of course, you know Sister Leliana,” Cassandra added as an afterthought as she caught the redhead’s eyes, “she is our spymaster.”

Elissa quickly looked between Leliana and Cassandra and could feel their exasperation at each other’s antics, one from trying to be as tactful as possible and the other tired of tiptoeing around something that shouldn’t matter between comrades. “It is a pleasure to meet you all, but I can’t help but feel quite insignificant compared to all the impressive titles in here,” she joked, trying to break the ice and earning subdued chuckles from everyone except Leliana, whose countenance was so guarded that she did not know what to make of it. Her stare was fixed on Elissa, boring through her as if she were trying to listen to her thoughts through sheer determination alone, bright blue eyes searching for something she did not feel she could provide. She was so wrapped up in her staring contest with the Sister that she did not take heed to what was being argued about until Leliana replied to one of Cullen’s statements, the spy much more adept than her at paying closer attention to her surroundings.

“The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition,” Josephine stated as a matter of fact before she turned to Elissa, “and you, quite specifically.”

Elissa’s confusion grew; why her specifically? Didn’t she already prove that she was there to help as best as she could? What else did she have to do? Hold a placard at all times that read, ‘I am not a mass murderer; try not execute.’ She was just about to rebut when the Ambassador continued with her explanation.

“Some are calling you, a mage, the Herald of Andraste, a frightening notion for the Chantry. They declare it as blasphemy and the Inquisition heretics–” “That will be the Chancellor’s doing, no doubt,” Cassandra sneered as she refixed her arms across her chest in agitation.

“I... I heard some of the people in camp,” Elissa uttered, holding the edges of the table for support. “They were whispering something whilst they looked at me. Maker– even that merchant near the entrance was saying a sword I held yesterday had been ‘blessed’ by me, and I didn’t even pick up on it; didn’t think to ask questions.” Cullen shifted his weight on either foot and took a good look at the woman beside Cassandra, encouraged by her willingness to be transparent with them; grateful she did not feel the need for layers upon layers of diplomacy and fakery.

“Herald of Andraste, now that is quite the title,” he teased good-naturedly, his mouth quirking to the side. “How do you feel about it?”

She took in a deep breath and tried to steady herself; logically, she understood why people would call her that. What with her being the only survivor of the Conclave, being spat out of a hole in the sky and then some random apparition practically hand-delivering her to safe harbour into the Inquisition’s hands. However, that logic did nothing to relieve the ever-present knot in her gut or lessen the fear she felt at the mere mention of being anyone’s ‘Herald’ of anything.

“I– uh, it’s a little unsettling if I’m to be honest,” she confessed, her cheeks flushing prettily as the Commander offered a small but kind smile to ease her.

“I’m sure the Chantry would agree,” he snickered. He could just envision Roderick somewhere in a nearby village already avowing their descent into madness to anyone who would pay him any mind.

Leliana walked to her side and stood a little too close for comfort, forcing Elissa to pay attention to what was said next.

“The point is, everyone is talking about you. People are desperate for a sign of hope,” she paused, a flicker of true emotion passing across her face as she fought for control over herself. “For some... you... you are that sign.”

“And to others, a symbol of everything that has gone wrong,” Josephine added sadly.

Cassandra quickly noted when Elissa’s attention went introspectively, something she had done quite often since her release from confinement nearly five days prior. She took an educated guess at what the younger girl was thinking and clucked her tongue at her, shaking her head disapprovingly. “You not being here is not an option, Elissa; do not think we would be any better off without you.” “Cassandra is right,” Cullen said, leaning against the large table, “the Chantry would have censured us no matter what.”

Elissa saw a gloved hand reach out towards her, but as she turned to look at Leliana, she was already putting it down to readjust her tunic.

“There is something only you can do. Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you...” the Spymaster began, not quite looking Elissa in the eye.

“Suuure. Another Cleric wants to speak to me, yet this plan isn’t crying out, ‘Let’s stick the blasphemer full of pitchforks’ to anyone else?” she snarked. “From what I know of Mother Giselle, she is a kind soul. She is tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe. Rest assured she would not involve herself in violence,” Leliana replied as she fell back away from Elissa, allowing more space between them, her normal reticent façade firmly back in place. 

Murderer. Liar. Mage. Heretic. Herald. So many titles were gifted to her in less than a week, yet she would give her left tit just to know her own surname.

Hours later, as she walked out of the meeting with a plan to travel out and meet the Mother and help their forces with what she could, she looked towards the open gates of the camp and wondered how far she would get if she took Varric’s advice and just ran away. As she took a look back behind her, she saw Leliana watching her, as if the woman already knew what her little brain was plotting.

She really should have run when Varric told her to.

---

Elissa could not sleep.

She had tossed and turned for the better part of three hours, and still the Fade would not grant her rest.

Huffing loudly, she threw the covers off her body and allowed the chill of the mountain air to steal away the last vestiges of drowsiness from her. After she shuffled into her boots, too agitated to pull them up all the way, she tied the laces around her ankles to ensure she wouldn’t fall on her face as she traipsed through the camp and accidentally get run through by one of the sleepy guards on duty. She pulled off one of the blankets from the foot of the bed and wrapped herself as snuggly as she could to ward off the extra bite from the evening chill.

From the way she naturally moved, she knew she was certainly no rogue, and that stealth was never something she would have been skilled at. Still, she took extra care to close the door behind her as quietly as possible and took slow, measured footsteps so as not to disturb any light sleepers around the site. Elissa looked up to the sky, as she so often did, and despaired at how beautiful the Breach looked against the stars. It was unfair that something so picturesque had caused so much havoc and devastation to the world.

She sighed then chuckled to herself at the puff of smoke that tumbled out of her mouth as if she were still a child, pretending to smoke a pipe. Surely she would be old enough to smoke? Was there a way to check a person’s age like with trees and their rings... She stopped in her tracks when she realised the equivalent would be someone cutting her down and trying to count something within her bones and just decided she didn’t really care how old she was after all.

Elissa did not have a destination in mind for her midnight stroll but found her feet naturally walking towards the Chantry. Perhaps she could review the map and see if staring at the world would entreat any memories to awaken, or maybe read up on any of the new reports that had come through to ready herself for what was waiting for them in the Hinterlands.

She was about to step into the Chantry when she felt a stare on her back that she had become accustomed to. Peeking over her shoulder, Elissa could make out the dim light of a candle close to burning out and the well-camouflaged figure of the Spymaster within her private tent. She was holding a quill in one hand and a missive in the other as she sat at her humble desk, a rather innocuous sight if it weren’t for the intensity in her eyes as she watched her. Elissa had half a mind to just ignore her and continue with her plan to elicit her memories, but she knew with her luck she would end up falling asleep only to be found in a puddle of her drool, snoring away as the advisors held their morning meeting around her.

Besides, she really wanted one day to pass where she didn’t feel like she was getting belted by Leliana’s ever vigilant gaze.

Bemoaning her lack of self-preservation, Elissa turned around and plodded her way to the Sister’s tent, waiting for confirmation she was welcome to enter. “How can I help you, Herald?” she asked as if she was a tavern wench forced to attend to the town drunk. “Why don’t you like me?” she blurted out, too tired to care for small talk. Leliana sat back, a look of complete bafflement painted across her face. “I do not dislike you, Herald,” she responded as she tried her best to focus on what she had hoped to write, although failing to even remember what she had read in the first place. Elissa snorted and sat down, twisting the blanket around her to bunch up around her comfortably. “It’s true; I do not harbour any ill will towards you at all.”

Elissa tried her best not to roll her eyes at Leliana’s words but could not help herself.

“I never know with you,” she started, her eyes finally adjusting to the light and seeing all the scrolls littered across her desk. “When I first met you, you were threatening to skin my face. Call me crazy, but that doesn’t seem like the friendliest offer you could provide to someone who had just woken up in chains.” To her credit, Leliana appeared to have regretted that particular interaction and ducked her face away from Elissa’s view, emboldening the mage to continue.

“I don’t even understand what that was all about; you were perfectly civil one second, and then you take a look at me, and suddenly it’s Princess Stabbity Stab the other– woah, woah! Hey, are you alright?” She panicked as Leliana fumbled with the lantern she was trying to light, the latter hissing softly at the newly made mess on her table.

Leliana swiped at the documents and swore in Orlesian under her breath. Elissa was surprised she could understand her perfectly— perhaps she had spent a lot of time in Orlais prior to the Conclave?

“I am perfectly fine, Eli–Herald,” she corrected herself, her voice as tight as the grip she had on the bridge of her nose. “I am merely tired. I have a lot of work to do and am pressed for time, so if you please-”

“I could help!” Elissa offered, hoping that by taking the initiative that she could bridge whatever gap was between them. “Tell me what you would like for me to do, I really just want to help. I… I could even be your scribe!” she suggested as she picked up a spare quill and blank parchment, scribbling something at the top of the page. “Besides,” she continued offhandedly, “I can’t sleep very well, so may as well make myself useful before you all change your minds and put me back in prison.”

Leliana gazed at Elissa with a vulnerability that she had not allowed herself to feel for nearly a decade–a distant memory of finding her friends behind enemy bars and her assistance in rescuing them. She could feel a smile playing at her mouth as she recalled the ridiculous ploys she and the assassin pulled off in order to save their friends and leader; some people would have been traumatised by the memories, but she always found great consolation and joy in them.

“I will never let that happen to you again, Elissa,” she whispered as her eyes sparked.  The Spymaster broke eye contact first and continued with her task of lighting the lantern, though much more carefully.

“I should hope so! I literally hold the key to all that is good and wonderful in the world in the palm of my hand; we should not let it fester in a cell,” Elissa joked as she leaned in closer across the small table, still doodling on the vellum. “Do not worry, Sister Leliana; I will ensure that I am on my best behaviour around Mother Giselle so no one will have reason to imprison me again.”

“Knowing you, it will be your best behaviour that will land you in trouble,” she smiled as more memories quickly danced through her mind. “You were always one to push limits.”

Elissa’s smile faltered. Was she always one to push limits? Did that mean she had known Leliana prior to all this? Was that why she was so quick to change her tune when she realised she was no demon?

“Oh really? When pray tell, did I ever push limits?” She purred coquettishly, batting her lashes and splaying one hand demurely on her chest.

Leliana’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she sat back in her chair, a warm, intoxicating mirth settling over her as she allowed herself a moment to bask in the memory. “Oh, as if you don’t remember! Bann Teagan in the Chantry at Redcliffe, you giant flirt!” She did. She did know her from before.

Like an animal who could detect a storm coming, the Sister could feel the change in the air and quickly realised her mistake. Leliana sat up straighter, and the happiness from her face twisted into alarm, and Elissa could see as the cogs in her brain whirled ever faster to spin the situation in her favour. The Spymaster knew she had been had, lulled into a cosy complacency. She had easily led herself into the self-made trap of believing something she had only dreamed about for so many years was real, and let herself get caught as if she were one of Marjolaine’s fledgling recruits.

“You know me. Don’t you?” Elissa asked with her voice low and steady, belying the flurry she felt within. Leliana began busying herself with reorganising her desk with the best nonchalance one could muster; if Elissa was not actually sitting at the edge of her seat with anticipation, she would have given the woman more props. 

“Answer me, Sister Leliana.” Leliana cleared her throat, looked her straight in the eyes, and shook her head. “No, I do not know you.” “I did not know Sisters of the Chantry were so well versed in deception to be able to lie so coolly under pressure,” Elissa spat as she sat back onto her chair, her distaste more than evident.

“Herald, it is very late. I have many things that require my attention, perhaps if there is time before you leave for your journey to meet Mother Giselle--” “There is time now. You will make time now,” she demanded with one long index finger stabbing into the desk. “I assume you have been told that I do not know who I am, correct? That I have lost my memories?” Leliana took in a deep breath before closing her eyes and nodding once. “So you know how much more fucking terrifying this all is for me, yes? If you knew me, you could help me remember, and in turn, I would be much more helpful to the Inquisition than I am now,” Elissa reasoned, impressing herself with how well she held herself together even though she wanted nothing more than to cry. “Every second of the day since I first met you in that horrid little cell, I have had no idea what has been happening. I’ve been thrust from one shit thing to another, and I don’t even know if I have someone out there wondering if I died at the damn Conclave. Or if anyone... or everyone…if everyone I cared about died there.”

The Spymaster opened her eyes and looked upon the distressed girl in front of her, she was so young and was not yet encumbered by the weight of the world; had not fully experienced the toll of being a hero. She was still that girl that she met in Lothering all those years ago, with barely any experience in the real world and far too willing to take on a friendship with a recently retired bard-turned-Sister, even when everyone else thought she was crazy. Perhaps she wanted to be friends because everyone thought she was crazy.

“I, I knew you once... but the person here in front of me now, I am sad to say I do not know,” she replied after a minute of heavy silence. She watched as Elissa tried to work through her cryptic response before cursing and hitting the table, the noise alerting one of the guards to check in on them both. Leliana shooed him away with a dismissive wave without even acknowledging him and continued to observe Elissa.

“Have I changed so much since you last saw me then? It cannot have been too long if you say I was trying to get into the pants of this Teagan fellow you mentioned. Have I changed for the worse? Or for the better? Have I grown into my looks, or am I ugly now? Please tell me how you could know someone and then somehow cease to know them,” she pleaded before quickly clasping the woman’s hands between hers. “Were we friends before, and then at the Conclave, somehow became enemies?”

Leliana wanted to take her hands and entwine her fingers between hers. To remember what it was like in camp as they held hands like children as they looked to the stars, revelling in her attention whilst she retold Elissa all of her favourite stories. Or as they walked arm in arm down the Imperial Highway when the day was too long and they wanted to forget that they were fighting a battle of impossible odds. To talk of shoes. Or men. Of the fine little pastries and delicacies they both missed from Orlais. Oh Maker, did she want to take her hands and tell her everything, even if she did turn out to be a desire demon and she was handing over her life to live in this fantasy...

“We were never enemies, Elissa,” she whispered, beating up herself with every word she said.

“Then why, when you look at me sometimes, it feels like you’re so angry at me? Did I do something so terrible before?” You died.

“... Did you like this Teagan then? Was I not a good friend to you and tried to take him for myself?” You left us.

“... Did I hurt a lot of people?”

You hurt us all.

“I am, I – I apologise if I appeared to have disliked you from our first meeting. That is not true at all. The Elissa I knew, we were the best of friends,” she admitted, allowing her hands to slip free from her grasp.

“Then why-” “I was angry at myself, and I was angry at the Maker,” she interrupted her, voice hitching with real emotion. “I was angry that it took me so long to recognise you in that cell and then think to hope you were a demon–” “You wanted me to be a demon?”

“I want you to be as you are... but you being a demon would have been easier.” “I am really not following you, Sister Leliana–” “You used to call me Lela,” she said with her bright eyes rimmed with unshed tears. “You stopped calling me Sister Leliana one day after you met me.” Elissa could feel the fog in her mind shift, the endless hallway of doors visible for just a moment before rushing out of view again.

“Lela,” she tried the name on her tongue, and while it clashed terribly with the image of the world-weary spy in front of her, she knew it fit her, belonged to her. “Lela,” she repeated, and the haze swirled about her excitedly. She reached for the closest door to her and tried to open it, but it was stuck, but she was so damn close! She knew it! Just a little more, and she’d be able to open it and remember what was missing.

Leliana blinked away her tears and studied the scene before her; Elissa’s jaw clenched in concentration and a light sheen of sweat formed at her hairline, an alarming sight considering her state of dress and the night’s frigid temperature.

“Tell me something else, anything at all,” she begged. Leliana paused and battled with herself; she didn’t know if it was the best idea to push this but to have Elissa back, returning whole as she used to be; there would be no stopping the force of nature she was. She would have all this business with the Breach wrapped up within a year, nothing left of it but a memory. The Sister tried to ignore the voice in her head exposing the crux of it all: her selfishness. She just wanted to have her friend back.

“I used to call you Lissa,” she uttered against her better judgement.

Lissa felt right to her; she liked the idea of being ‘Lissa’, like a piece of her soul lit up at the thought of someone calling her that.

“I was the Lissa to your Lela,” Elissa ventured slowly, smiling, a blurry memory of the two of them laughing. “You said that your name sounded lovelier whenever it was said by a friend, even if that friend was Fereldan and couldn’t say it right.” Leliana choked on her breath; no one else but Elissa or perhaps Alistair would have known that.  

Elissa tried to hold Leliana’s gaze, but a sharp pain forced her eyes shut. She found herself back in the hallway, but the doors were shaking in their frames, as if they wanted to be opened, but something was forcing them shut. As they moved to open, she could make out sounds coming from each door– all in Leliana’s lilting tone. Lissa. Lissa. Lissa. Lissa. Lissa. All the Leliana’s were singing in a mismatched chorus, which grew louder and louder as the doors continued to crash against themselves.

Elissa doubled over in pain, her mark sparking menacingly as she clutched at the sides of her head. She had thought the agony of the mark was horrific, but it paled in comparison to the war raging inside her mind.

“Elissa, Elissa! Herald!” Leliana gasped, moving to her side in an instant. She steadied her head with both hands rested atop Elissa’s, sickened as she saw her fingernails starting to dig into her own scalp with enough force to draw blood. “Stop it! You’re hurting yourself, Elissa!” she croaked as she tried to pull away at her hands.

Leliana stepped out of her tent and thanked the Maker that one of her scouts was passing by.

“Get Adan and Solas at once; do not rouse anyone else and do not make a scene; do you understand me?”

The scout stole the briefest of looks between the Spymaster’s face and into the tent behind her, where the pained whimpers of the Herald were starting to grow louder. He paled and saluted her before stealthily running into the camp to do as he was bid.

Leliana rushed back to Elissa’s side only to find her slumped in her chair and passed out, her bloodied hands hanging limply at her sides with her chin lolling on her chest, rivulets of dark red streaming down her face to stain her shirt.

“I am sorry, my friend,” she apologised just low enough so no one else could overhear. She apologised for hurting her with her impatience, her carelessness. For giving in when she knew better. For knowing that she would not hesitate to do it again. For her or for Thedas.

Now she knew that the woman who fell from the Breach was none other than the Hero of Ferelden, somehow resurrected and sent back to the world to save them; as her friend, she would stop at nothing from having a chance to reclaim all that was once lost. And as her Spymaster, she would wield this information as a boon from the Maker himself. There could be no doubt now that Elissa was Andraste-sent, and with them being in the Hinterlands, it would not be long until people would start to talk about the resemblance between their well-missed Grey Warden and the new Herald of Andraste. 

She would make sure of it. Chapter 3

[procrastinatorproject]

Tonight, we continue with some sunny adventure that has gone neglected for far too long: We're checking in with Gemma, the hover-cow.

Context: The crew of La Sirena are stranded on a bucolic planet mostly inhabited by very large, very round, very fluffy cows that have a tendency to push off the ground, float in a gentle arc for several meters, and then crash into you to show their affection. Somewhat against his will, Rios has adopted one of these specimens, a calf about the size of a draft horse, whom he has decided to call Gemma. Right now, our intrepid heroes are trying to find a way to cross a very deadly river.

(For the first two chapters see here, the third one is almost finished, and this would be the beginning of the fourth one, I think.)

---

“No.”

“I’m sure I could do it.”

“Absolutely not!”

“You have failed to come up with any other options, so what’s the alternative?”

“It sure as hell isn’t that!”

Cris took a long drag from his cigar, trying to calm down. He wasn’t having much success.

“Elnor has a point.”

Cris shot Seven an angry look. “I don’t care if he has a point, we’re not doing this.”

The xB was utterly unimpressed by his temper. “Would you rather we turn around? Walk all the way back and abandon our best chance to get off this damn rock?”

“There has to be another way,” Cris insisted, though he could tell that he was losing the argument.

“I’ll tie a rope around my waist and Soji can pull me back if I fall into the river,” Elnor suggested eagerly.

“I’m not worried about you falling in the river,” Cris snarled around his cigar, “I’m worried you’ll bash your head open on a rock. Or… get trampled. Or god knows what else could go wrong!”

“I don’t think the cows have enough mass to trample a Romulan in peak physical condition,” Agnes said, looking Elnor up and down with a pensive expression.

Cris wanted to be angry at her for this betrayal, but it was very difficult when she scrunched up her face in this adorable way she had.

He shook his head, trying to focus on the problem at hand. “You’re all ignoring the most basic problem.”

Soji tilted her head. “Which problem?”

Cris put his hands on his hips and fixed Elnor in a glare. “Go on, tell them what happened yesterday.”

Everyone turned to look at the young Romulan, but, of course, trying to embarrass a practitioner of Absolute Candour, even one as green as Elnor, was a doomed endeavour. “I made an attempt at riding one of the hover-cows yesterday morning,” Elnor said without a hint of apprehension, “but I couldn’t get her to stand still for long enough to climb on her back.”

Raffi groaned. “You might have mentioned that before.”

“I didn’t think it was relevant,” Elnor said. “I only tried it three or four times, and I didn’t have a reason to put much effort into the attempt. Now I do.” He shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Besides,” Soji put in, “I don’t think we’ll have much trouble keeping the hover-cow still in this case.” She gave Cris a smile that made hairs stand on end, then she nodded her head down river

Cris turned around with a frown to see what she was pointing at.

There, maybe a hundred meters away, hiding bashfully behind a boulder that barely came up to her belly, was Gemma, watching him with her ever-hopeful eyes.

“Concha su —”

“Really, Cris,” Raffi scolded him with a wide grin. “Watch your mouth in front of that poor child.” She was clearly enjoying this way too fucking much.

“Is that your new girlfriend?” Agnes shielded her eyes against the sunlight.

“She’s not—”

“Yes, you can see the distinct patch of lighter fur on her left shoulder,” Seven mused.

“Oh yes,” Elnor said happily, “she’ll be perfect.”

Now that she had their full attention, Gemma apparently decided there was no point in hiding anymore. She trotted out from behind the rock and started heading towards them.

“Absolutely not,” Cris insisted. “You’re not going to try and ride her across the river!”

“Why not?” Elnor asked. “She’s small enough that I’ll have a much easier time climbing on her back, but she should still be able to cross the river in one jump.”

As if to demonstrate her prowess, Gemma accelerated her approach and broke into a loping run, that could only end one way.

“Oh, no, no-no, don’t —” Cris took a stumbling step backwards and dropped his cigar, as the others all scrambled to safety. He yanked up his arms and yelled: “Gemma, stop!”

To his unending surprise, she actually listened.

Instead of pushing off the ground to bound into him with an overjoyed gurgle, Gemma started scrambling against the soft grass, trying to slow herself down. She had built up too much momentum to come to a full stop, but instead of crashing into Cris with enough force to bowl him over, she merely knocked him a few steps backward. As soon as he had found his feet again, Cris leaned into the onslaught of hot breath and soft fur, bringing them both to a halt. Somehow, Gemma’s head had ended up under his arm, and now she was nuzzling at his side, making quiet happy noises, apparently quite proud of herself.

Cris sighed deeply, but he patted her broad neck. “Yes, well done. That was a good stop.”

He tried to untangle himself from the mountain of fur and looked around Gemma’s mass to where the others had taken refuge from her approach. Agnes was peering at him over the top of a boulder. She kept herself low enough that he could only see her eyes, but they were clearly brimming with laughter. Raffi had no such compunction. She was grinning so wide it was a wonder her head didn’t split in two.

Next to her, Seven dusted some grass off her shirt. When she noticed Rios’s look, she arched a delicate eyebrow. “Did you just call her ‘Gemma’?”

Cris could feel heat rising in his cheeks as, hidden behind their boulder, Agnes and Soji broke out in snorts and giggles. “Piss off!”

[saltnpepperbunny]

Till World’s End- 4: Seven Days Remain

PREVIOUS: Eight Days Remain > NEXT: Six Days Remain >

COVER

Till World’s End is rated Mature. Viewer discretion advised. Content Warnings listed on the Cover.

* * *

“… He said what?”

“You don’t want to be the one who stands in his way,” Shadow reiterated. Selkie ground her teeth together, smoke practically puffing from her nose. Of course Lyn the human had approached her and she missed it! How irritating! She would’ve liked to scratch his nose off when he insulted her to her face!

But she tossed her irritation aside with a short exhale. It was illogical to be irritated about trivial insults in the midst of open warfare. She’d make a misstep if she let her anger run rampant. “We know for sure, then. Lyn is here to save the world.” A grin tugged at the corner of her lip. “We truly do have an enemy.”

“Yeah! It’s not good!” Shadow yiped. “You said you were working on a solution. Did you think of anything?”

Selkie sweat. “Of course I’ve thought of something! Just what do you take me for?” She whipped her head to the side.  “But if you have any ideas as well, I’ll hear them out.”

Shadow’s ears drooped. “You’ve got nothing, huh?” The question came out more as a dejected statement.

“No.”

“We’re doomed!” Shadow started pacing about the room like a caged animal in a veterinarian’s office. “If you can’t think of anything, what can I even do? Selkie, are we gonna have to k-k-kill him?!”

“Ideally not! Calm down!” Selkie hissed. She watched Shadow’s stormy eyes swirl. “I would rather avoid killing him. It certainly would make things easier, but breaking the pokemon’s laws could jeopardize us. I’m not willing to endanger you.”

Shadow sighed with relief. His eyes dripped honey, no doubt from her last comment. “But then what can we do?”

Selkie tapped her chin with her claw. She’d been considering Lyn’s arrival since the morning briefing two days ago but was uncertain how to approach the problem. What if she misstepped and did something too risky? She didn’t want to make a move that would put Shadow in danger, for she knew how humans treated weak pokemon. And after yesterday’s events, she was hesitant to act recklessly. She felt powerful enough that any move she made would likely work out, but if she fucked up, she’d upset Shadow again. Was it too risky to confront Lyn directly? What about spying on him? Neither felt like an issue, but what if it went wrong? Shadow had really put her in a bind here!

“There’s one thing other thing.” Shadow’s voice cut through her train of thought. “I think Lyn sensed you were a human, too. But after we met, he thinks otherwise.”

Selkie’s eyes widened. “So, he thinks I’m a pokemon… Excellent.”

Shadow’s brows shot up. “Excellent?”

“Excellent! We have the upper hand!” Selkie’s tail swished back and forth. “Lyn was warned of me, but now he doesn’t think I’m a human. He’s wary but has no real reason to suspect we might stand against him. We can gather information and form a proper plan.”

Shadow grinned wide. “From the shadows!”

“From the shadows,” Selkie echoed. How adorable her partner was. She shuffled towards the bedroom door. “Everything will be fine. But this is all contingent on ensuring Lyn’s ignorance. Whatever we do, Lyn must not find out that I am a human.”

Knock knock knock!

Selkie’s eye twitched. Who dared disturb her team’s peace? She swung the dorm door open to see—

FUCK!

Lyn the human stood in her doorway. A familiar yungoos recruit and Margarine the cutiefly were at his sides. Lyn’s eyes darted between Selkie and the zorua, and after the briefest of pauses, he shot her a wide, sharp-toothed grin. “Good morning, Team Tempest! The Guildmaster has assigned you to accompany my new team on a mission today!”

“…. Okay.” Selkie couldn’t decide whether to snap Lyn’s neck or her own.

* * *

“So, this is a mystery dungeon, huh?” Lyn stepped forward. His half-lidded yellow eyes widened just slightly in wonder; his mouth fell into an o-shape. “It looks just like an ordinary cave!”

“Ordinary caves don’t have stairs,” Selkie muttered. She pushed past Lyn to the front of the group. “Now, stick with me if you don’t want to die.”

This was great. Just fucking great. Leave it to the Guildmaster to ruin fucking everything! It had assigned Team Tempest and the newly formed Team Apex to fetch a lost item in Silver Inlet. Why Selkie’s assistance was even necessary on this mission was lost on her. Apparently, the Guildmaster wanted an experienced team to accompany Lyn on his first outing and provide extra support so Team Apex—consisting of Lyn, Margarine, and Thistletooth the yungoos—could figure out how to work together. But why hers of all teams? This wasn’t even an outlaw capture job! She couldn’t wait to gouge out that kommo-o’s throat, feel the blood run through the fur of her flippers and take its fangs as her prize. Fuck that stupid dragon.

Shadow came close to her and nosed her gently. Selkie took a deep, shaky breath. With a last glance at the members of Team Apex, she turned towards the dungeon’s entrance. “Let’s just find that joy ribbon and get out of here.” She shuffled forward, Shadow fell into step at her side, and Team Apex plodded after her. Together, they entered the dungeon.

Silver Inlet was one of the nearest local mystery dungeons. Due to the low numbers of ferals, rookie teams often took missions here to get their feet wet before graduating to bigger challenges. Selkie had never spent much time here as a new recruit; the more challenging dungeons had always been more alluring. However, she did appreciate the atmosphere of Silver Inlet. It was a spacious, silver cave littered with stalactites and connecting pools of water.

“It’s so… wet here,” Lyn muttered. Selkie glanced over her shoulder to see the litten’s fur stood up on his back. His eye twitched every time he stepped in a puddle.

“Bad choice in first dungeon for a fire-type,” Selkie muttered at him.

Lyn squinted. “I didn’t—… I didn’t pick the mission, the Guildmaster did. I wouldn’t have picked somewhere damp and cold.” He shot her a cheeky smile. “But I suppose these conditions are ideal for a popplio.”

“Oh, yeah. If I wasn’t babysitting, I could navigate this dungeon with far more ease.” Selkie gestured to a nearby pool of water with her flipper. “The pools here are all connected through tunnels under the ground. Swimming between them is the easiest way to navigate. Unfortunately for us, the Guildmaster shackled us with a fire-type. A feline one, at that.”

Lyn rolled his eyes. “Very funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

“Hey! Come on!” Margarine flitted in between them. Selkie hated that incessant buzzing of its wings. She wished she could swat it out of the air. “We all gotta work together on this, okay? Let’s not fight. It’s my first time ever on a team mission, I wanna do this right.”

“Sorry, Margarine,” Lyn said.

“Yeah,” piped up Thistletooth. The yungoos has been lingering at the edge of the group, but it now paced forward. “Sorry the Guildmaster ruined our chances before we even got out the gate.” It narrowed its eyes at Selkie and Shadow. “Why did he have to give us the psychos?”

“Hey—” Shadow growled.

Selkie bared her teeth. “Oh, petty insults, how clever! You speak so boldly for a recruit who’s been with the Guild several weeks now, yet still needs to be babysat even in the mildest dungeons! I would personally be embarrassed to spit in the face of the pokemon assigned to keep you alive, since you apparently can’t be trusted to do that yourself!” She leaned down and thrust her pink nose into Thistletooth’s snarling face. “Next time, consider biting your tongue, you insolent little whelp.”

Thistletooth snarled at her but otherwise said nothing, and Selkie lifted her head back up. “Besides, listen to your teammate. We’re not here to bicker.” She shuffled forward, and Shadow padded after her. “I don’t want to be here anymore than you do. Let’s just get that lost item and go.”

After a moment of silence, she heard the plodding pawsteps of Team Apex quietly following her lead. Fucking finally.

They traversed the dungeon in blissful silence after that. As the fire of Selkie’s anger dwindled, boredom nibbled at the creases of her brain. Curses. Curse the Guildmaster, curse Lyn’s inept rescue team! She didn’t like coming here! Silver Inlet was boring! There were hardly any ferals nor items to find, never a monster house to crowd surf in! Just walking through damp, sparkling caves. Selkie ground her teeth together. Damn this boredom. She walked amidst an enemy who most definitely knew what she was at this point and still managed to find it dull.

Selkie glanced over her shoulder at Lyn. He was in a quiet conversation with Margarine, the two muttering together under their breath. Margarine caught her eye and gave a smile. Selkie stared back. The cutiefly dropped its gaze and went back to whispering with Lyn. Hm.

Selkie’s social connections amongst the Guild were sporadic and strenuous at best. Most recruits regarded her as the village psychopath, the creature to whisper behind the back of, the monster to poke and prod but never outright provoke. Few pokemon had the will to approach her, and most who did just challenged her to fights. Margarine was the sole exception: Its values guided it to seek out resident freaks to offer kindness to, and since Shadow was too terrified to talk to it, Margarine targeted all its efforts at Selkie. They spoke occasionally about their troubles, and what started as impulsive fibs on Selkie’s part had warped into an elaborate web of lies surrounding her dysfunctional popplio family, monetary troubles, and poor, ailing grandmother. She was rarely one to trick others in that way—she lied often, but keeping track of elaborate stories was more work than she was often willing to put in—but Margarine practically begged to be manipulated. Its trust was unyielding, its graciousness knew no bounds, and its pockets overflowed with coin. Selkie couldn’t fathom how a cutiefly family got rich, but economic disparity was just as stupid in her own world, she supposed. Wringing out the stupid little rich kid for its coin was an admittedly phenomenal pastime, and it gave her extra cash to spend on Shadow. (She knew he loved it.)

But now, Lyn and Margarine were together. How that happened was beyond Selkie; perhaps Margarine’s attempts to buy friendship from its fellow recruits finally paid off? Undoubtedly, the two would discuss Selkie at some point. All pokemon gossiped, humans especially so. What would occur when Margarine told Lyn of Selkie the human’s impoverished popplio family and ailing popplio grandmother? Would he tell it the truth? Let it live the lie? Could this exchange of information jeopardize Selkie’s mission at all?

She supposed it remained to be seen. Oh well. Hopefully, the end result would at least be interesting.

The group made their way through the dungeon, descending stone staircase after staircase. About three floors down, they walked in silence, Team Tempest at the head and Team Apex behind, when the fur of Selkie’s neck suddenly stood up.

She stopped in her tracks, eyes darted about the cave. “Selkie? What’s wrong?” Shadow asked her, but she did not respond right away. The shadows concealed the various tunnels around them like black curtains, but she could still hear it: the scratching and scuttling of approaching ferals.

“Ferals are coming. Prepare for battle,” said Selkie.

“B-b-b-battle?” Margarine spluttered.

“Aw yeah! Time to show our stuff!” Thistletooth yapped.

“Don’t get cocky,” Selkie growled at it. The last thing she needed was one of the Idiots Three charging into battle headfirst and getting wounded. That would be the epitome of inconvenience, if her escort mission suddenly became a real rescue. By the sound of it, a lot of ferals were approaching. Enlisting the help of Team Apex would be the easiest option, wouldn’t it? But how could she do that without this battle spiraling into a chaotic mess?

Out from the darkness burst a hoard of krabby. Selkie counted five, ten, no, fifteen? She stopped counting after twenty. The members of Team Apex backed away from the approaching hoard, hackles raised. Only Shadow stood his ground, but he lowered himself into a battle stance, teeth bared, and Selkie saw the nervousness in his eyes. How could she protect him without risking herself too heavily? How?

Suddenly, something awakened in her.

Selkie leaped up onto a tall, nearby boulder and slapped her tail to make an echoing THUD! Team Apex flinched and looked up at her, and her bark bounced through the cave. “If you want to survive, listen to me now!” She combed her brain, rifling through memories left dusty from years of neglect, and the corpse of a girl who had once prized pokemon opened her eyes.

“Cutiefly, use silver wind and knock them back!”

“O-o-okay!” As Selkie thanked herself for having looked at Team Apex’s movesets ahead of time, Margarine flapped her buzzing wings and unleashed a whipping wind that knocked back the oncoming krabby. The ferals grunted and braced against the attack, and Selkie whipped her head to Thistletooth. “Yungoos, use sand attack on as many of them as you can!”

Thistletooth snarled at her. “Don’t tell me what to—”

“JUST DO IT!”

Thistletooth flinched from her shriek and, with an irritated snarl, got to work. A fair amount of sand was fortunately available in the wet cave. The yungoos dashed past the hoard and kicked up a storm cloud that flew into their eyes and mouths. The krabby spluttered and hissed, and Selkie saw them open their mouths in preparation for bubblebeam.

“They’re going to attack! DODGE!”

The bubbles launched. Thistletooth, Margarine, and Shadow were quick to duck out of the way. Shadow charged forward, vanishing in a flickering shadow for a moment before he reappeared and bashed some krabby into the wall with a sweep of his paw. Margarine launched another silver wind to knock back the oncoming bubbles. Selkie barked at Thistletooth, “Focus on using bide to deal as much damage as possible! Let the bubblebeams hit you. Only use pursuit if you see one trying to flee!”

“Don’t need your advice, Psycho!” Thistletooth barked at her but followed orders regardless.

Selkie realized she’d lost track of Lyn, and her eyes darted around in search of the human. But before she could find him, Shadow’s bark suddenly rang out. “Selkie, be careful!”

She looked down to see a group of krabby scrambling up the boulder towards her. She snarled and readied disarming voice in her throat. Coming for the trainer, eh? She would show these idiot ferals what-for! A krabby launched a bubblebeam, but before Selkie’s own attack could leave her throat…

SMACK!

Something big and heavy slammed into her side. Selkie went tumbling down from the rock. The disarming voice left her throat in a yelp, and beneath her, the rocky walls of the mystery dungeon glowed blue and split open. “SELKIE!” Shadow screamed out, but he was too late to do anything. Selkie—and whatever had attacked her—rolled through the opened slice in the stone. She caught a glimpse of Shadow’s terrified face, hordes of krabby behind him, as the opening in the dungeon sealed once again. She hit the rocky floor with a thud.

There was no way back.

“DAMMIT! STUPID MYSTERY DUNGEONS!” Selkie jumped back onto her belly and slapped at where the opening had been with her tail. “OPEN UP! ARCEUS DAMN YOU!”

“Oouuuugh…”

Selkie’s ears pricked. She whipped around to see Lyn on the ground, rubbing his head with a red paw. No other pokemon was in sight. Frustration bubbled in Selkie like a boiling pot. She gnashed her teeth and barked at him, “You fucking idiot! Did you try to protect me back there?! What was the point of that?!”

Lyn hissed and looked back over his shoulder at her, yellow eyes crossed in irritation. “I was trying to protect you from those krabby, obviously.”        

“Well, now we’ve fallen through a hole in the dungeon! We’re likely on another floor, and your team has no protection besides my partner. Good job!”

Lyn curled his upper lip to show his teeth. “My teammates can protect themselves just fine.”

“Then what am I here for?!”

“I didn’t ask you to come! The Guildmaster did! I would’ve been fine coming here on my own!” Lyn suddenly barked at her. Selkie’s brows shot up. So, he could raise his voice!

“Clearly not, if you can’t even organize your own team for battle! I had to step in!” Selkie shouted. “And now we’re uselessly stranded on the other side of the dungeon, and my partner is alone with your troupe of circus clowns! If Shadow gets hurt, you’re dead, you hear me?! You’re dead!”

Lyn’s tail thrashed side to side. He glowered at her, yellow eyes flashing with irritation. “Like you give two shits about that zorua.”

“He’s my teammate,” Selkie growled.

“Your teammate is gonna be dead in seven days and you damn well know it!”

A fog of silence settled between them. Lyn’s sides heaved. He gritted his teeth. Even in the dark, gray cave, his lamplike yellow eyes shone bright as gold. There was life in there, a fire that bore deep into the murky depths of Selkie’s still water eyes. Finally, Lyn brushed the dust off his chest with a paw and gave Selkie a look that oozed disappointment.

“The Guildmaster didn’t ask you to bring my team out here, did it?” Selkie muttered.

“No.”

“What do you want from me, Lyn?”

“I want to understand.” Lyn paced towards her, his head lowered like a predator. “You’re like me. And I know you’re like me because I was warned of you. The one who brought me here said that another would stand in my way. But I don’t understand… Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why won’t you save the world?!” Lyn cried. “I’ve been here for three days. You’ve been here for years. And all you’ve done is dawdle around a rescue guild on some tropical island, adopt a pet zorua, and pull teeth off random outlaws! Do you not get it? In seven days, you’re dead, too!”

“I am completely aware of that fact, yes.”

Lyn looked at her like she’d just spluttered gibberish from her mouth. His brows crossed, his expression a mixture of offense and sheer confusion. “Wh… What? What?! Selkie, in seven days, this entire world will cease to be! The pokemon here, your zorua, yourself! Do you not understand?!”

“Do you think I’m dumb? I know what will come to pass! I perfectly understand my choice.” The skin of Selkie’s muzzle furrowed as she curled her lips. This was getting real annoying real fast. Oh, humans and their insistence on treating her like an idiot.

Lyn scoffed. “You’re suicidal. You’re meant to be the hero of this dying world, and you’re too suicidal to do anything about it.”

“I’m no hero,” Selkie growled.

“Well, luckily for you, I am.” Lyn slinked closer and began to circle her. He lifted his chin high and tall, a glass cup on the edge of the countertop begging to be swatted down. “Unlike you, I understand my place in this world. Before I came here, I was nothing. Just another human. But now, I’m a pokemon. I’m better than a pokemon. I’m the hero who’s gonna save this world.” The smirk he shot her made Selkie want to claw his face off. “Whether you like it or not, Edgelord.”

Selkie’s eye twitched so hard she thought it would bulge out of its socket. “I’m the edgelord? Me? I’m not the one who seems to think he’s the protagonist of a goddamn isekai.”

Lyn quirked a brow. “Oh, you know anime genres? Takes one to know one.”

Selkie rolled her eyes. “For a grand hero, you sure do come off more as a self-important schoolyard brat! Do you think anyone will thank you for saving the world?”

“They will.”

“They won’t! You’ve assigned yourself to a thankless job, and no good will come of it!” Selkie’s bark bounced about the cave. “You think you’re better than me because you want to save a bunch of worthless animals from themselves? Don’t make me laugh! All you’re doing is as you’re told!” Though her chest was empty, cold, and still, a chuckle bubbled from her lips. The giggles dropped and pinged against the floor like falling coins. “Haha! Hahahaha! You are so human, aren’t you, Lyn? You follow instructions like a trained rockruff. You sit and roll over and save the world as you’re told, all to save a bunch of pokemon you don’t give two shits about, and for what? To bolster your ego? At least mine is not so fragile!”

Lyn’s pupils turned to slits. He scraped at the ground with his claws. Agonizing noise. “You think I’m doing this cause I was told to? I accepted the mission cause these pokemon don’t deserve to die!”

“Hahahahahaha! Oh, but they do! Of course they do! There is a single pokemon in this world who doesn’t deserve to die, and he has CHOSEN death!” Selkie laughed. Her heart suddenly panged. What emotion was that weird heavy sensation meant to be? “Ahahaha! Everywhere I go is the same. Our world is rotten to its core, life there is torment, and the weak are eaten alive. This one is the same! If our world isn’t worth saving, this one isn’t either! Ahahahahahahaha!” She laughed and laughed. She thought of her zorua in the belly of that dark, monochrome cave. What was this pressure behind her eyes? “Isn’t it hilarious? Isn’t it tragic? How a world of innocent creatures can still mutate like this? Break like this? There is no difference between humans and them!” She stopped laughing. She looked Lyn dead in the eye. The pressure faded. Her body ran cold. “That is why they deserve to die.”

Lyn stumbled back. “Y-you’re a freak.”

Selkie wondered for a moment how to respond to that. Then, she shot him a bright grin. “Yours truly!”

Lyn’s eyes darted this way and that, a rattata in search of a bolt hole. Selkie shuffled towards him, and he hurriedly slunk back and jumped when his tail bumped against the cave wall. Selkie truly felt like the goddess of this world as she shuffled so close they were nose to nose, stretched a flipper out to lean against the wall and box the litten in. The fur of Lyn’s neck stood on end. Eyes wide as Selkie leaned down.

“Let me put it this way, Lyn. In one week, I am going to give Shadow his happy ending. I am going to have my happy ending. No creature in this world nor the one we came from has the power to save us. If you should choose to stand against us? Let’s just say…” Selkie raked her claws down the cave wall, and sparks of delight popped in her chest as Lyn shrank beneath her. “You do not want to be that person.”

They stared each other down in silence for what felt like eternity, Selkie’s eyes steadily narrowing as Lyn’s grew wider. She breathed in his fear, his weakness like curling smoke, let it wash through her lungs. In that moment, she was the most powerful being in this world. And then suddenly, Lyn’s golden eyes narrowed into a deep, dark glare.

War.

“Selkie!”

She knew that voice. Selkie’s head shot up to see Shadow dashing towards her from down the tunnel. Behind him came Thistletooth and Margarine, and when the yungoos saw Selkie pinning Lyn against the wall, it sucked in a gasp. “Get away from Lyn, you psycho!”      

Selkie pushed away from the wall, giving Lyn room to stand back up as the humans’ teammates rushed up to him. Thistletooth and Margarine surrounded Lyn in a fretful swarm, checking their leader for signs of misuse, as Shadow stepped up to Selkie’s side.

“I’m so glad I found you, Selkie,” Shadow sighed with relief. “Are you okay? Did you finish the mission?”

“No. The mission’s off. We’re leaving.” Selkie ripped her rescue badge out of Shadow’s treasure bag.

Margarine suddenly spluttered. “W-w-what? We’re leaving? But the mission isn’t over, we haven’t found the lost item! I-I-I—”

Selkie growled at the cutiefly. “You’re on your own. Your leader lied through his teeth. The Guildmaster never assigned my team to accompany you. You’ve lost your babysitters.” She lifted her rescue badge above Shadow’s head, and he vanished in a swirl of blue light.

As Selkie readied herself for the teleport, something light tugged on her collar. She glanced over her shoulder to see Margarine staring up at her, eyes wide, wet, and watery. “I-I-I’m scared to be alone here, in this dungeon. Don’t you care?”

Selkie blinked at Margarine. Her still water eyes were still, her heart empty for the thing that deserved to die. “No,” said Selkie.

She left in a flash of the dungeon’s blue light.

[guildtree]

Prompts!

Kasjory

Grumpy affectionate “If any other person did this to me, they would be in big trouble.”

Sleepy "You were much nicer in my dreams."

Gorrik & Taimi

"It doesn't matter" "But you do matter"

OKAY HERE WE GO

Post-EoD Kasjory - If any other person did this to me, they would be in big trouble:

“There.” Kasmeer adjusted the fabric over Jory’s shoulders. “How does that feel?”

Jory shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Is it actually fine, or are you just saying that to get this over with faster?” Kasmeer stepped back and took a look for herself. Her future wife stood before her in a relatively simple white wedding dress. It had taken them a while to find one that didn’t irritate her scars and wasn’t too fancy for Jory’s liking, but maybe they’d finally managed it. Jory was missing a few things – makeup, jewelry, a proper hairstyle, and more – but even then she looked beautiful enough to make Kasmeer’s heart squeeze.

At least, until one noticed her expression. Then she looked like the grumpiest, most uncomfortable woman on the face of Tyria. “Look, I won’t ask you to smile, but at least try not to scowl.”

That only made Jory turn her death glare onto Kasmeer. She was probably moments away from summoning a bone minion just to get kicked out of the store. Kasmeer sighed. “It still looks a little loose. Let me try and pin it and then we can take a break.”

She bunched up some of the fabric at the shoulder and tried to pin it in place, just to test if it would work. The material was surprisingly thick, and soon her fingers slipped. Jory cursed and flinched away.

“Sorry! I’m not an expert.”

“Isn’t there supposed to be a guy to help us with this?”

“There was, until somebody scared him off.” Jory grumbled something under her breath as Kasmeer finally got the material settled in place. “What was that?”

“Oh, nothing. Just that if any other person tried to do this to me, I’d kill them.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad.” She gestured to the full-length mirror the proprietors had kindly provided them before fleeing. “Don’t you think you look beautiful?”

Jory’s expression softened as she watched them both in the mirror. “It’s just … white is your color. I feel strange wearing it.”

“I think I can share for one day.” She kissed Jory on the forehead and added, “We’re getting close. Try just one or two more, and then it’ll be my turn?”

“Fine. But only for you, love.”

Season 1 Kasjory - You were much nicer in my dreams:

“Jorrrry… wake up!” Kasmeer’s voice shocked Marjory out of a dream about … Kasmeer? Yeah, that was right. Kasmeer kissing her, sighing as Marjory ran her hands through her hair, pressing herself even closer…  Marjory hummed happily and curled herself tighter around the real Kasmeer, not quite ready to leave that hazy space between sleep and waking.

Her flesh-and-blood girlfriend wasn’t having it. She wiggled around until they were nose-to-nose, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Oh, I see… Marjory tilted her head to give her a kiss, sure she knew exactly what Kas wanted.

Just a second before their lips met, Kas ducked her head and bumped her very cold nose into Marjory’s neck. Marjory leaned back with a grumble, and Kas giggled. “Come on! The sunrise is so pretty!”

“Sunrise? You woke me up for a sunrise?”

“It’s morning! I can’t believe you want to sleep so long.”  Now thoroughly and unfortunately awake, Marjory squinted at the light filtering in through their curtains. The sun wasn’t even up yet, only a pale glow on the horizon. It was late magic hour at best. Curse whatever gods existed for dooming her to fall in love with an early bird.

She groaned and closed her eyes again. “Nope. Too early.”

Kas whined; Marjory could perfectly picture her adorable pouty face. “Yesterday you said you’d get up and make us breakfast.”

“Oh, is that what this is all about?” She tugged the blankets up and rolled over, away from the sun. “Ask me again in three hours.”

“But I’m hungry!” Kas flopped herself over Marjory’s sleeping form. Clearly, she was not going back to sleep without a fight.

“You know, you were much nicer in my dream. Dream-Kasmeer doesn’t pester me to make her pancakes.”

“Pancakes? You didn’t tell me we had those.” Marjory cursed herself internally. She was not getting any more sleep today.

Friends with feelings Gorrik and Taimi - It doesn't matter/But you do matter:

Footsteps echoed across the Eye of the North’s dragon chamber, and Taimi flinched. Not because of the pain in her legs – though that was certainly noticeable – but because she knew she was in trouble. Who would it be this time: The Commander, Kasmeer, Caithe? Her money was on Caithe.

She was wrong. “Taimi!” Gorrik said, appearing next to her all in a huff. The tips of his ears were turning red from the exertion of running over, or perhaps the cold. “There you are! I was worried about you. You missed your midafternoon nap today.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot of dragon research,” Taimi said with a shrug. She tapped the on-screen analysis graph for her draconomic analyzer to show him the mountains and mountains of data. “That latest pulse from the Dragonstorm just came in. I didn’t want to miss anything.”

“That’s hardly time-sensitive,” Gorrik argued. “The data isn’t going anywhere. You could have taken a few hours to rest.”

She glared at him and he pushed his glasses up his nose, but he didn’t back down. “I’m fine, Gorrik. Don’t fuss.”

“I’m not fussing!” He shuffled his feet. “Okay, maybe I’m fussing a small amount. I simply don’t want stress to severely impact your quality of life.”

“Good grief, I’m not going to keel over from one missed nap!” Taimi dropped the dragon data entirely and turned her chair to face him, ignoring the burst of pain that shot up her spine at the motion. “I can’t believe you people think I’m so fragile. I’ve helped kill dragons! Made machines worthy of a genius! Compared to that, a little pain hardly even matters!”

“But you do matter!” Gorrik said, or perhaps shouted. Taimi’s ears went back in surprise, and he fidgeted with his hands, suddenly unable to look her in the eyes. “That is… your comfort matters. Not just the things you do.”

Taimi found herself lost for words for a moment. Gorrik dragged the analysis graph over to his workspace and started entering data, though she could tell it wasn’t really his focus. “I know how this works, you know? Blish was sick too.” He glanced up at her for just a second, and there was a bottomless sorrow in his eyes. “I thought it would save him, when we put him in the golem. But it didn’t. And now I don’t know how long I have left with you.”

The soft beeping of data slowed as his fingers drifted to a stop on the hologram. “Taimi, you’re my… my best friend. Whatever time we have left, I want you to be comfortable and happy. I don’t want to see you spend the rest of your life miserable because you refuse to take care of yourself.”

“Gorrik, I didn’t … I mean … well…” Taimi stared down at her hands and her stupid, aching legs. It was true that the pain was worse on the day she’d skipped her nap. Her condition might feel abstract and mysterious at times, but it was ultimately biology and science like everything else. She knew what made it worse and what didn’t, and she’d known she was pushing herself.

She’d been so worried about dying before the world could pay attention enough to remember her. But maybe Gorrik had a point too. Didn’t his very presence prove that someone would remember? “You know what? It’s late, but I could use a nap. You coming with me?”

“Oh!” Gorrik perked up, adjusted his glasses, and grabbed a cube of dragon data. “Of course! I’ll, uh, look through this while you sleep.”

He offered a shoulder to lean on as Taimi limped back to their room in the central hub, and Taimi took it for once. Gorrik sat in a corner, quietly tapping away at their work, while Taimi curled up on her bed. She fell asleep to the sound of soft beeping, and with a strange, happy warmth in her chest.

[sm-writes-chaos]

sigh..it's new idea time. A story about disaster gays with a lot of second hand embarrassment which I've honestly been dying to write to get out of my comfort zone.

It's a start and only has a little bit down

--

Me and my crush are both gay! …In the wrong direction.  I thought I had a crush on him but it turns out he was just a shield for me to hide behind whenever my real crush Tiffany walked past. It was the same for him whenever David was around. The real problem? Tiffany and David were together.  And they made it clear they were serious, kissing in the halls and rubbing each other’s backs. I almost throw up every time. But me and my best-friend-not-crush Jeremy can’t let go of our feelings, so we’ve devised a plan. Get them to break up and fall in love with us, easy! Only, if I’d known that the most embarrassing year of my life would end up being this year, I would’ve just dated Jeremy.

I threw my backpack down and sat on the lunch table with a huff. I crossed my arms on the table and laid my head down. 

“Tiffany?” Jeremy said in an all too knowing voice.

I muttered out a sound of confirmation. I lifted my head and threw my arms in the air.

“How is she so perfect?! Today I left yesterday’s homework at home and- and you know what she did? She’d made a copy, Jeremy. She makes copies of all the homework in case she loses them!” I looked at him with wild eyes. He nodded and smiled with a little laugh.

“Can she get any more perfect? It might be annoying if not for your crush on her.”

“Hey are you saying if I wasn’t in love with her you’d dislike her?” I raised my eyebrow but I was clearly joking.

“Well, yeah. If you like her then she must be a good person.”

I smirked in victory. I looked down at the table and only saw one lunch tray. 

“Did you not get one for me? I said I was going to be late from band.”

“Oh no this is yours.” He slid it over to me. The only thing looking slightly appetizing being the apple.

I picked up a spoon from the tray and stared at him suspiciously.

“You’re not hungry?”

“No no..I’m fine.”

I picked up the apple and shoved it into his chest.

“Take it.”

“Uh thanks.” He wheezed and took a hesitant bite. I tried to swallow down the lumpy potatoes and focus back on what I was saying earlier.

I twirled my spoon in the air while chewing thoughtfully. 

“So Jeremy,” I said with a taunting voice, he smiled knowing what I was going to say.

“How’s it going with David?” I raised my eyebrows.

He looked around the room rapidly, glancing at David sitting at a table far from ours.

“He’s good.” Jeremy stared for a second longer before meeting my eyes again.

I groaned a little, “I mean how’s it going with both of you. Like together.”

He frowned a little, “I tried to sit next to him when we went to Gerald’s pizza shop after the game, but his friends did before I could.”

“Oh Jeremy, Jeremy.” I shook my head disappointed. “You’ve got to stop hesitating! I know you just stood there while the chance was wide open!”

“I know, but I was still all sweaty from the game and stuff.”

“So was he dumbass!”

Jeremy frowned at me, he knew he was just making excuses. 

“You’re no person to talk to me about hesitating. Yesterday you had to talk to Tiffany about the project but you just stared at your paper for ten minutes.”

I slapped my forehead remembering. 

“And she tapped my shoulder with her perfect nails and told me which part of the project to do. Though I kinda wasn’t paying attention because I was staring at her hair..”

“Willow!” He scolded, this was new information to him. 

I tried to laugh it off and stuffed my mouth with more lumpy potatoes.

Jeremy put the apple down halfway eaten. 

“If we keep going on like this we’re never going to get happily ever after.” His little sister had been watching more Disney movies recently and since then he’d been comparing our disaster crushes to fairy tales.

“Happily ever afters are for straight rich princesses. We were doomed from the start. The first to be killed in a horror movie.”

Jeremy thought for a moment. 

“We just need a plan.”

“Like what?” I scoffed. 

“Operation Get Our Crushes To Fall in Love With Us.” He stated it as a genius plan like he had it all sorted out already.

I perked a little and paused, “it’s gonna need a shorter name.” I smiled, I was always up for a good plan. 

RING!

Jeremy and I scrambled up and rapidly said some final words to each other. 

“After school-“

“The bleachers-“

“Operation Get-“

“Okay we seriously need to shorten it.”

“Fine, bye!”

“See ya later!”

We said our goodbye and rushed to our next classes. They were on the opposite ends of the school so we couldn’t converse in the halls, but my mind was already racing with ideas.

I hadn’t thought of it before, but looking at it from this angle my sophomore year might not suck after all. I may even avoid the sophomore slump all together! I nearly skipped and hummed my way to my next class, even though it was with Mrs. Dodderson. A frustrating teacher who made us memorize so many dates it felt more like math than history class. She always paired me up with Jessie, somehow hoping that the more we were near each other the sooner we’d get along. But that just gave her more opportunities to torment me. We could have a whole lesson in class on our history. 

Last year she threw a party, and while I was miraculously invited, I didn’t know she’d literally be throwing a party cake all over my shirt. It was totally on purpose too. I saw her friend sticking their fingers in her mouth. 

And the year before that she played my audition tapes over the P.A system, I was known as ‘Voice Crack Victoria’ for months. Some people still think my name is Victoria. Last month though, she went too far. She switched my history test out for one written in crayon! It was a total disgrace and brought my grade down to a C. My parents and Mrs. Dodderson said I was making a mockery of the school, and I had to take the test again. History class was more like ‘Glare at Jessie' class, and my grade is based on if I glare hard enough that she doesn’t bother me for the whole class period. The longer she leaves me alone the better my score, and notes for class. Without her bothering me I could be passing that class with flying colors, instead I barely scrape by with a B. Not an acceptable grade in my book. 

I reached the door that, while it was identical to the rest, seemed more intimidating and unfriendly. I tried to open the door as casually as possible and walk in while not being too aware of my body movements. Holding my breath I managed to sit in my chair while looking semi normal and not making eye contact with anyone. 

I thought I heard a scoff behind me but forced myself to continue looking straight ahead. I got my notebook out and laid it on my desk, awaiting the lesson to start.

“Look who’s so excited for class! Like a little note taking puppy.”

Jessie. Her voice crawled up my back and into my ear, planting her judgments in my brain and sticking like glue.

Her friends laughed a little and said something I thankfully couldn’t hear. Though it was almost worse than knowing.

--

aand that's all folks, back to a 'will I won't I write the rest' situation