#wow might i be working through some kind of ''obsession''

[sea-changed]

second third of 2024 in books

23. Don't Look at Me Like That, Diana Athill [I brought this book on a trip and loved it; it was the perfect vacation companion] 24. Cahokia Jazz, Francis Spufford [I know I wrote my thoughts out at the time but. lovely! frustrating!] 25. To Paradise, Hanya Yanagihara [you all know already which section was my favorite] 26. Catch-22, Joseph Heller [obviously I've Gone On about it but. god.] 27. Slaughterhouse-Five, Kurt Vonnegut [reread] 28. All-Of-A-Kind Family, Sydney Taylor [reread, but not since childhood] 29. "The Good War," Studs Terkel [reread] 30. Coming Out Under Fire: The History of Gay Men and Women in World War II, Allan Bérubé [mostly a reread? I'm not sure I'd ever read it cover to cover before] 31. Looking for the Good War: American Amnesia and the Violent Pursuit of Happiness, Elizabeth D. Samet 32. What Soldiers Do: Sex and the American GI in World War II France, Mary Louise Roberts 33. HHhH, Laurence Binet (trans. Sam Taylor) [did I like it? unclear! was I fascinated by it? absolutely.] 34. Once There Was a War, John Steinbeck 35. X Troop: The Secret Jewish Commandos of World War II, Leah Garrett 36. Cosmopolitans: A Social and Cultural History of the Jews of the San Francisco Bay Area, Fred Rosenbaum 37. More All-Of-A-Kind Family, Sydney Taylor [reread] 38. The Cooking Gene: A Journey Through African American Culinary History in the Old South, Michael W. Twitty

[t4t4tclethian]

The moment Joel realizes he has a crush on xB is, objectively, quite a funny one. He’d almost certainly be laughing about it if it had been anyone else. As it is, though, he’s hopping mad, extremely indignant, and deeply embarrassed about the whole thing. Who ever heard of a hitman falling for their mark? (Well, a lot of people have- it’s a whole romance cliche for a reason. But it wasn’t supposed to actually happen!)

(ao3 link)

————————————————

It had all started a few days earlier, when Joel had been hanging out with the other Magical Mountaineers in the breakroom. Gem and Impulse were poring over some papers together, Skizz was on a phone call in the corner, Mumbo was politely watching as Scar fumbled through some magic tricks, and Grian was sitting on the couch with Joel, listening to him rant about his failures at killing xB (he’d drawn the short straw). Everything was normal.

And then, when Joel paused his tirade to take a breath, Grian said those fatal words. “From the way you talk about this guy, Joel, it’s almost like you’ve got a crush on the mark!”

Which was ridiculous, of course! He does blummin’ not, thank you! His relationship with xB was a perfectly platonic contract killing, and Joel is a professional! He knows better than to fall for his target, and he indignantly tells Grian as much.

But, of course, Grian is Grian, and the second he senses he’s touched a nerve he doubles down. And so he did.

“Contract killing? Give me a break, Joel! Your contract on this guy expired ages ago, and you’re not the type to work for free.” Grian’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he continued to needle at Joel. “Admit it, there’s something else going on here, isn’t there?”

Joel spluttered, and took a deep breath as he glanced around the room. Fuck. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to listen in on him and Grian now. He had to say something to throw them off or he would never be able to live this conversation down.

“My contract might be done, but unlike some people I finish the things I start, thank you very much!”

Grian squawked in indignation, and as he did so the others chuckled and turned back to their own conversations, unfounded accusations of romance forgotten. Grian’s tendency to leave things unfinished was well-known, and something that every assassin at Magic Mountain had teased him over many times.

But that thought refused to leave his brain. It had wiggled its way in like a worm. Did he have a crush on xB? Is that why he kept coming back when any sane person would’ve just given it up already? And the answer, of course, is no. All of Joel’s actions here have perfectly reasonable and professional explanations.

————————————————————

Joel waits patiently on the rooftop across from Horse Head Farmer’s Market (which, despite the name, is actually a grocery store/money laundering scheme, not a farmer’s market), rifle at the ready, just as he has been for the past three and a half hours. You can’t rush a good sniping, after all, and xB’s schedule varies enough that Joel’s never quite sure when he’ll head out for lunch. (He’s pretty sure xB has done this specifically to spite Joel- the guy’s obsessed with him.)

Yes! Finally! xB steps out of the store, starts walking down the street, and- turns to look at Joel’s rooftop, makes direct eye contact with him, and gives him a friendly little wave, the infuriatingly sincere kind that makes Joel want to kill him even more. Dammit. He’s been caught. Also, wow, even from here Joel is a little wowed by how blue xB’s eyes are. Or maybe he’s just remembering how they look, because there’s no way Joel can actually see his eyes from here. They are definitely a very nice blue, though, and oh, huh, Joel realizes that Lizzie has blue eyes, too. Maybe he’s got a thing for blue-eyed people, and- OH SHIT RIGHT HE’S KILLING THIS GUY.

Joel fires, because even if he’s been discovered a vantage point is still a vantage point. Of course, xB somehow manages to not be in the bullet’s path, just like he always does, and then he gives Joel a disapproving look, like he’s actually disappointed Joel didn’t do a better job at trying to kill him.

God, he’s so cute, Joel’s brain has the audacity to think, like it’s trying to add insult to insult to injury. To Joel’s horror, he realizes in this moment that he’s had dozens, maybe even hundreds of thoughts like this, that just slipped through the cracks and went unnoticed.

Then, xB smiles at him again before heading on his way, and Joel falls off of the rooftop. He has time to think, Oh, I’m gonna kill Grian, as he plummets towards the ground. And then, everything goes dark, and he dies.

[ceilingfan5]

🔒 blupjeans? :) 

🔒I broke into your car to impress you when you locked your keys in and now I have to construct an elaborate lie to explain myself 

“Huh,” Barry says, after Lup breaks into his fucking car. “Thank you, so much, honestly, I mean, I was going to be fucked, the locksmith quoted me like $300-”

“Yeah, no prob,” Lup says, so forcedly casual that she thinks she hears something important pop in her jaw. 

“But uh,” Barry looks at his car, a very, very sad blue Honda Civic belovedly named Crunch, and then at Lup, who is struggling with the knowledge that she is blushing hard enough to burn herself at the stake here. “That’s a pretty impressive skill you’ve got there?”

The how the fuck do you know that, and for why, specifically, is implied. 

“Thanks,” Lup says, opening her gumball machine mouth and letting a tasty, shiny lie ricochet through the spirals and tubes of her fucking idiot central and right out into the air, where she will now be responsible for it. “I learned it in the circus.”

“The circus?” Barry is wearing his stupid sexy strap on sunglasses, which are tentatively attached to his regular glasses, and thus make his eyes a little harder to see. He is, however, obviously having some kind of reaction to this information. Lup grimaces. 

“Yeeep. The circus. You know, the uh, the giraffes loved to steal keys.” 

“Giraffes?” Barry is incredulous. “That’s amazing. What for?”

“Oh, they’re mischievous fuckers,” Lup is just fully in it now. “Never trust a giraffe, I’m telling you. Elephants either, they’ll throw your keys right down a storm drain just to get your attention.”

“Golly,” Barry says. With his human fucking mouth. Lup wants to kill him and keep his soul in a jar. She promises she’ll poke holes in the lid. “I have to imagine you’d hide your keys after that happened once or twice, though?”

“The problem is, you see,” Lup is ascending, to live with the angels. Shame they’ll evict her as soon as possible, for all the lust and gluttony and wrath and so on. She can have another thing lined up. It’s fine. “Circus outfits never have pockets.”

“Really? Never?”

“Total design flaw,” Lup says, nodding, and also sweating so hard she’s afraid it might be audible. “Pockets would pull them down. And when you’re just wearing a leotard, you don’t want it gettin’ pulled down, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Barry agrees, looking dreadfully impressed at all this. “But then what about the keys, did you just hold them?” Him and his goddamn followup questions. Lup could grind him into a paste and study him under a microscope. 

“Yeah, or put them on a chain around our necks. But mostly we had a key boy.”

“A keyboy?” Barry’s eyes go way up. “One keyboy, to hold all the keys in the circus?”

“It was an illustrious job,” Lup says, with her lying, lying ass. “Everyone wanted to fuck the key boy.” 

“Wow,” Barry says. “Because of his access?”

“Because of the jingles, Barr, keep up!” Lup folds her arms. “Also, he was a pretty good juggler. Not as good as me, though.”

“You can juggle?” Barry grins at her. “I’d love to see that.” 

“I’ve been banned from juggling forever,” Lup says solemnly. “Because of the incident.” 

“The incident?” Jesus, can he just do this all day? Doesn’t he get tired?

“Yeah,” Lup says, and winks, and smacks him congenially on the back. “It’s a curse. Shame, cause I love juggling.” And before Barry can ask her another fucking question, she heads back in to work. 

God. It’s been years since she juggled. She cannot fucking believe she’s backed herself into a corner again about this shit. She should have just admitted to being obsessed with lockpicking youtube. 

[undertale-fic-librarby]

I found the AO3's filtering confusing, so I hope you can help!

Could you find any Killer x Reader fics that focus on him exclusively? Thanks, librarian for all you do! <3

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

Poor Little Meow Meow by Mystique, TallDumbass (Explicit, Incomplete)

Wow, this skeleton monster who came into the clinic you work at sure does keep adopting stray cats. He's kind of an idiot too, and his jokes are really inappropriate, and he may be a little excessively stabby... You maybe might possibly be falling for him though? But good luck getting him to express a single genuine emotion lol. AKA, two idiots who are bad at emotions bond over cats. A lot of cats.

SAVE | LOAD | RELOAD by Mystique, raven_bones (Explicit, Incomplete)

You fall down a hole in a mountain. We've all heard this one by now... But the vast underground civilization you find yourself in is empty and seems long abandoned, or at least you think it is at first. There is someone stalking you along the way, and he seems very, very interested in you. But you have more Determination than him, so maybe you can turn this game of cat and mouse around in your favor?

Élan Vital by Breadeagle (Mature, Incomplete)

“Something Slithers within the Fog, Something Scurries within the Mist. Something Found whilst on a Jog, Something Killed without Resist. One has come from beyond this Verse, Serpentine venom coursing through the Heart. One shall rise, in the name of Just Deserts. A Mouse Poisoned shall tear them both Apart. Obsession grows, one mind shall Break. Metamorphosis in fracture of angel’s Wings. Is it worth it for the Snake? For if the Mouse is poisoned, neither truly Wins. Thus is the Fate of Mutual Destruction.” A Story of Change, of the Descension from Heaven and the Path to Hell. You are an Agent tasked with finding answers for recent murders that have befallen your city. You wanted only the best, and you could never have foreseen the future that would befall you following this case. While categorized as Enemies to Lovers romance, please be mindful of the tags.

Bitty Bites by resurge (Explicit, Complete)

He’s the bane of your existence. Until that night.

withered rose. by paradiseblues (Mature, Incomplete)

in a small town on the further outskirts of Ebott lies a sweet and cosy flower shop. which you just happen to work at. a skeleton walks in, what's he looking for? a heart? no dumbass, he's looking for a 53 inch rose bouquet! get back to work! there's no punchline here. ... Where you, a hopeless romantic who sits in their lonely flower shop, encounters your favourite customer who apparently needs the largest roses in stock. Can you handle the idea of him possibly having a lover already? Or will you tumble down like a house of cards?

[emilyzipps]

how do you build up the tension between two characters without dragging it out or jumping the gun by rushing it?

This is a great question! I mostly write romance/romcoms so I'm going to answer this about building romantic tension, but I'm guessing it works for other kinds as well.

As always, please feel free to reblog or comment with your thoughts, suggestions, disagreements!

The first thing that comes to mind for me is to think about all of the ways they're going to show their progression into the romance--their relationship milestones--and make sure they're spread out in a way that feels balanced and good.

In a romance, the things you're aiming for as relationship milestones will vary depending on what type of book you're writing. If it's a steamy enemies to lovers story, the sex will start pretty early into the book, so the will-they-or-won't-they isn't about sex, it's about feelings. The big milestones in that case might be things like

admitting attraction

hooking up

sex

first feelings of romance (you shove them under a rug)

first feelings of romance (you admit to yourself you have them)

first time testing out if they like you as more than an sex partner

first time admitting you liiiiike them

first time them admitting they liiiiike you

love confession/happily ever after

On the flip side, a slow burn friends to lovers (no steam), it may be things like

noticing she's pretty

touching hands by accident on the bus

touching hands ON PURPOSE on the bus

lingering stares

staying up all night talking

picking her up from a date with someone else and being so sad

trying to date someone else

spending the night together AS FRIENDS

erotic hair braiding

happily ever after

Once you think through what some of those milestones will be for your story and your characters, then you can figure out how you want to spread those out throughout your story. Tension comes in the spaces between those milestones and in yearning for the next one, so you need to give space for each milestone to (a) be exciting! (b) be celebrated (or feared or repressed or whatever) and (c) get old enough that we're pining for the next one. That's why you go from touching hands by accident to being brave and terrified and anxious when you decide to do it on purpose.

With the right build up--the pining for the feel of her smooth skin against yours, the noticing how her hands look, day dreaming about her fingers, picturing yourself touching her hand a million times, barely breathing--finally touching her hand on the bus can be as emotionally resonant as sex or a love confession.

consider each milestone as a small emotional climax (sex jokes are welcome and frankly appropriate), and treat it in the way you'd treat the big story climax.

The other thing I'm thinking about is the disconnect between what they say/show and what they think. In my debut novel, the first time Alice sees Van, her inner monologue is immediately like OMG GIRL HOT!!!! THIS BUTCH IS STUNNING AND SMELLS SO GOOD I WANT HER TO TOUCH MEEEEEEEEE. What she actually says out loud is more along the lines of "hi, nice to meet you, i'm your brother's formerly secret girlfriend."

That creates tension because the reader then (hopefully!) thinks, oh wow, how long can Alice keep it together when she's such a bisexual disaster? How long can she go without revealing how badly she wants Van to jump her?

Here's a little map of our milestones and interior/exterior:

first meeting. Alice thinks: GIRL HOT. Alice says: hi i am dating your brother??

first flirt. Alice thinks: if she touches me i'm going to fucking lose it (complementary). Alice says: thanks for the ride home, your dog is cute.

first admit you like each other. Alice thinks: i want to never leave her house or her presence. Alice says: you should be really proud of the life you've built here.

first cuddle. Alice thinks: i'm going to die. i'm actually, physically going to die under this snuggie. this girl is so hot and kind and i'm obsessed with her oh my GOD. Alice says: your mom seems nice.

Those are kind of silly examples, but I hope it helps to be able to see that we're waiting for her inner monologue to match her actions, and the stakes for both get higher and higher as they move through the milestones until the moment when she (a) says what she's thinking, and (b) gets what she wants. Aka, HAPPILY EVER AFTER, BABY.

thoughts, feedback, other suggestions, questions? bring them!

[mikyur]

The ghost of the theater~

Yandere oc x Gn Reader

Warnings: watching the reader, slight obsession, mention of death, general Yandere behavior.

You find yourself in an office room of a theater, your office and your theater, your uncle recently died and in his will he made you the new owner of his precious theater.

At first you didn't want to accept such a responsibility, but remembering the few times you visited him you realized how much he loved that place.

And with that you agreed to take care of and manage the famous theater of your dear and only uncle and make this place even more famous, it's a shame that not everything is a bed of roses and soon problems began to arise.

And the problem was that thanks to his uncle's death, the theater's audience fell, as if only his presence made that place work, and without him it's as if everything had lost its life. And you didn't know what to do to reverse it.

And now what do we do? .You ask the manager, one of the men your uncle trusted most and who you knew was willing to do whatever it took to keep this place afloat.

Well, I was thinking of something that might bring the audience back, I just don't know if you'll agree . He speaks a little anxiously.

Right now I'm accepting anything.

I was thinking about doing a presentation on the story 'The Duke's Madness'.

And why do you think I wouldn't accept that?. You ask genuinely confused.

Don't you know the story and what happens when some theater tries to recreate it?.

No, I don't know. At your response he sighs and adjusts his glasses before looking at you again and speaking.

The story tells about a duke who, after going through humiliation and being rejected by his childhood friend and love of his life, makes a deal with a demon and with that he gains powers and with With these powers he attracts women to his forest mansion and these women become his wives forever.

Wow... this story is very interesting, but I suppose there's more, right?.

Of course there is more, but I'm not going to tell you, you'll have to look for the ending on your own, but the most important thing here is that there is a legend about this story, which says that all the theaters that tried to recreate it disasters happened.

Disasters?.

Yes, some have tried but bad things have always happened to them, like actors getting hurt in rehearsals, some employees getting sick and even deaths.

... serious?...

Well, that's what they say, but I don't particularly believe that, just as I don't believe the rumors that there's a ghost here.

Wait, they say there are ghosts here?

Yes, have you never heard? Kind of strange since you've already been here for three days. He speaks and adjusts his glasses back on his face.

No, I didn't know any of that. You said trying to absorb all the information suddenly given to you.

Anyway, I don't believe in these things and I really hope you don't either.

No, I don't believe it, so do you believe that this story will really help us to build the theater again?

It's what I expect.

...ok then, you can start preparing everything for the play because that's the story we're going to show at the reopening!. You don't know where it came from but you feel a sudden enthusiasm and hope that everyone else has the same enthusiasm to make the presentation.

Right now. He says this to you and leaves to start his work.

Ghosts are... they don't exist You tell yourself and start doing your own work.

Time passes and once again you are the last person to leave the theater, as a boss your job ends up being the longest, and yet another night you are walking to the main door to go back to your home.

But unlike other nights, this time you felt cold, a slight current of cold air passed you from behind, which is strange since everything was closed so there was no way wind passed through there, and even stranger and scarier was the sound of a person singing a beautiful melody on the speakers You hadn't left them on, there was no reason for anyone to leave them on, and who was singing?

Gathering your courage you decided to go after the voice, which was definitely in the stage area, it was probably an actor singing, he or she must be training, that's definitely it, it has to be That's what you thought going to the place of the melody.

But when we got there, another surprise was that there was no one on stage and the music had stopped, you sighed with relief, it must have been all in your tired head and almost turning around to leave. You see a person on one of the benches in the middle of the stage, and your fear returned a little but, overcome by curiosity, you went there to see who it was and ask them to leave the place since it was closed.

Look, I'm sorry but the theater is closed so I ask you to leave. You speak approaching the person.

I know it's closed, but I can't leave. You got close and saw that the person was extremely white and their clothes were very beautiful, almost as if they were from some ancient story.

As? You can not exit?

I can't, I'm stuck here.

What do you mean you're stuck there? Sorry girl but you better leave soon before I call the police.

How rude of me She finally leaves the place she was sitting in front of me and leans down to make a gesture of introduction, one of those very old ones that you only see in movies about castles and such. I'm Levi, but you can call me the ghost of the theater.

What?. You couldn't have heard right, right?

It's a pleasure to meet you, the most beautiful person who has ever stepped foot here and I must warn you right away that I am not a girl. He then says laughing a little at the end.

This can't be true. This person who you now know is actually a boy cannot be a ghost, ghosts don't exist!

This is the purest truth, as true as its beauty.

You remain silent, not knowing what to do or say, and then he sees that you are in trouble and decides to take your hand, or I mean, he tried to take you but you only felt a slight tingling and a cold feeling.

It saw? I'm not a living being like you, but I was before and used to be on that stage.

You... were an actor?

Yes, I loved this place, and I precisely died here, ironic, right?. And again he laughs, but I feel a little melancholy coming from him.

So that's why you're here?

Yes, I can't leave and I don't want to leave, and I must confess I'm surprised that you're still here talking to me instead of running away.

My uncle always said that we should be afraid of the living and not the dead, and you don't scare me.

Your uncle was an amazing guy, it's a shame he already had to go, I will miss him.

I will miss him too. You say thoughtfully, remembering the moments you spent with your uncle.

Well at least you're here and I know you'll take good care of my house. He says and reads with a smile.

How are you sure I'll take good care of it here?.

'Cause I feel it, and I trust a pretty face.

You blush a little at his speech and look away from his smile.

In any case, I have the impression that you purposely lured me here.

Yes, yes I did it, you are really smart!

Why?.

Because I wanted to be able to talk to you, since you arrived I have been watching you and I wanted to finally talk to you face to face.

Have you been watching me?. You ask surprised.

Yes! All the time, without stopping looking at you for even a second.

Wow...that's kinda...creepy?.

Scary? I don't think looking at something beautiful all the time is scary. He says thoughtfully and then looks back at you with a smile.

Ok...but from now on you can stop staring at me from the shadows, if you want to talk to me you can come to me, ok?.

He didn't say anything and just disappeared from view, as if he had never been here.

Levi?. You call him to make sure this wasn't all in your head.

I promise not to stare at you from the shadows anymore, little star~

I hear his voice as if it came from the wind and it gives you chills.

Will he really stop? Did this really happen? You ask yourself this, returning to the entrance so you can go home.

Sorry for any writing errors 7w7

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

North To The Future [Chapter 8: Crash And Burn]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, discussions of sex, actual sex (18+ readers only), near-death experiences, health crises, hospitals, questionable tattoos, trout with Trent.

Word count: 6.7k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: ​​​​@elsolario​ @ladylannisterxo​ @doingfondue​ @tclegane​ @quartzs-posts​ @liathelioness​ @aemcndtargaryen​ @thelittleswanao3​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @b1gb3anz​ @hinata7346​ @poohxlove​ @borikenlove​ @myspotofcraziness​ @travelingmypassion​ @graykageyama​ @skythighs​ @lauraneedstochill​ @darlingimafangirl​ @charenlie​ @thewew​ @eddies-bat-tattoos​ @minttea07​ @joliettes​ @trifoliumviridi​ @bornbetter​ @flowerpotmage​ @thewitch-lives​ @courtenbae​ @tempt-ress​ @padfooteyes​ @teenagecriminalmastermind​ 

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

“He broke up with me.” Kimmie hasn’t taken a single sip of her Miller Lite. She’s staring right past you and Heather, her eyes glassy puddles shimmering with reflections of multicolored Christmas lights. It’s Monday, December 13th, and Dale’s stereo is playing Queen’s Thank God It’s Christmas. You’re in the usual booth and waiting for the boys to get off work. Outside the frosted windows is an ocean of darkness punctuated by narrow aisles of murky streetlight luminescence. “He actually broke up with me.”

Heather snaps her fingers in front of Kimmie’s face. “Uh, Kimmie, Earth to Kimmie, yeah, can you give us a little more exposition, please? When exactly did this happen?”

“Yesterday,” Kimmie says, slightly more present now. “He’d been weird since the hike, super depressed, super boring…he wasn’t even interested in doggie style, and he loves doggie style!”

“Boundaries, Kimmie,” Heather pleads.

“So he called me to come over last night and I went to see him and he was…like…sitting on his couch with his hands folded in his lap like it was a freaking job interview. And he explained that he thought I was totally great and that we’d had a lot of fun together but now he had to break things off for personal reasons.”

“Wow, personal reasons, wow,” Heather muses. She doesn’t turn to look at you, but she does kick your boot under the table. You pretend not to notice.

“Wow,” Joyce echoes wryly, flipping a page in her current fantasy novel. There’s some stately prince on the front cover: crown, sword, shield, long flowing hair like a river of white gold.

“I don’t even care that much,” Kimmie realizes as she’s saying it. “I mean, it was nearing its expiration date anyway. I’m going to get back together with Brad, Aegon’s going to presumably resume sleeping his way through Juneau…or maybe try out taking a vow of celibacy, who knows, he’s been very monkish the past few days. He can be fun sometimes, and I like him, and I wish him all the best, but there’s no future for us. I just realized that he’s the first guy who ever broke up with me instead of the other way around. It feels…not great!”

“Congratulations, you’re a mortal,” Joyce says, not looking up from her book.

“So you wouldn’t care if Aegon got with someone else?” Heather asks Kimmie innocently. This time, you kick Heather. She winces but bites back a hiss of pain.

Kimmie considers this, finally taking a swig of her I’m-a-cool-girl-who-likes-hockey-and-trucks beer. “No, probably not.”

I won’t do it, you vow to yourself with false stoicism, imagined iron you wish you were really made of. I won’t date him, I won’t sleep with him, I won’t fall in love with him. And yet part of you already knows it’s too late. Part of you knows this as if it’s been inked to your skin like the scrawled, secret entries of a journal.

Ursa Minor’s front door bangs open, and what you see when you turn to look doesn’t make any sense. Rob and Trent—both dripping wet, their hair plastered flat to their heads, their boots squeaking on the hardwood floor—rush inside. There are shouts and gasps and people leaping up out of their seats to get a better look. Trent is carrying something over one of his lumberjack-broad shoulders. He kneels to throw it down onto the floor. It’s Aegon: limp, bluish, unconscious.

“Someone call somebody!” Trent bellows. He’s staring down at Aegon in panic, in terror, not knowing what to do. Beads of water run down his face. “An ambulance or 911 or a helicopter…or…or somebody!”

“Got it!” Dale says, darting for the phone behind the bar. Kimmie is shrieking. Joyce is trying to calm her down. And by then, you’re on the floor beside Aegon feeling for a pulse on his carotid. He doesn’t have one. He’s cold and he’s silent and he’s medically dead.

“He fell,” Trent says franticly, helplessly. “We were bringing the boat into the harbor and he got tangled in a net and fell overboard. I pulled him out, but he was underwater for a while and we couldn’t…we couldn’t wake him up…”

“Aegon?!” you scream, shaking him, slapping him across his icy, vacant face. “Aegon, wake up, wake up, please wake up!”

Heather is next to you. “What can I do?”

“Help me get his wet clothes off. Hypothermia.”

She yanks at his boots, his socks, his jeans. “You know how to do CPR, right?”

“Yeah, on a dog!” Still, you have to try. How long can he go without a pulse until he’s braindead? Four minutes? Five? The cold might buy him extra time, but not much. Minutes. You rip off his red flannel shirt; buttons go careening across the wet floor. As you place your palms over his heart, you notice—fleetingly, dazedly, like sloshing through a dream—that he has a scattering of scars on his chest, gashes and punctures and knicks…and two tattoos. There is a dragon spiraled around his right collarbone. Just below his left, there are three words written in light, graceful cursive: I’m a killer.

You start chest compressions. How many am I supposed to do on a human? Ten? Twenty? You can’t remember. You’re sobbing; you aren’t sure when that started, but it’s in full force now. Heather mops the tears from your face with her sleeve so you can see.

He’s going to die, you think. He’s going to die lying on the floor of this bar in his boxers, and he will never tell me anything again, and he will never see his family again, and he will never get better. The channel killed Jesse and now it’s killed Aegon too.

“Is he dead?!” Kimmie yelps from across the room. “Please tell me he’s not dead!”

Heather hurls back: “You’re going to be dead if you don’t shut up! Let her work on him!”

You tilt Aegon’s head back, lift his chin, pinch his nose shut. Then you exhale into him. You can taste the dark ancient salt of the sea on his cold lips…but beneath that there is rum as well. He shouldn’t have been drinking that much at work. He doesn’t usually. What’s different? What’s been bothering him? But you think you know the answer to that.

There’s nothing, nothing, nothing…and then Aegon’s chest rises and he rolls onto his side, choking out torrents of seawater and gasping for air. People are cheering and chattering, but you barely hear them.

“Oh my god!” you cry out, and if you were sobbing before now you’re properly bawling, breathless and hysterical. It’s uncontrollable, you can’t seem to stop. You cling to Aegon as he shivers violently and peers around with half-open, profoundly confused blue eyes, warming him with your own body heat, turning his flesh from blue to white to pink.

“Go get coats and stuff to warm him up,” Heather says to Trent, shoving him away. And you do actually need coats…but also, you think, Heather is trying to get rid of her brother. Because it should be obvious to anyone what’s going on here; it should be obvious to anyone that you’re in love with this white-blond man on the floor who not so very long ago was a stranger.

“Hey, hey,” Aegon rasps, pawing clumsily at your face as if to comfort you, almost poking your eyes out in the process. And then he asks, with genuine confusion: “What the hell are you crying about?”

You start laughing, tears still streaming down your cheeks. “You, idiot. I’m crying about you.”

“I’m fine, Appletini,” he croaks. “Shh. Shh. Stop. No crying.”

“I thought you were dead, I thought…I thought…”

“I’m not that easy to kill,” Aegon says, his eyes dipping shut. Outside in the blackness somewhere, there are sirens whirling. Trent returns with an armful of coats and together you pile them on top of Aegon, burying him in a tomb of L.L.Bean and Patagonia and The North Face. “Trust me. I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Obviously, the hospital won’t let Aegon have rum and Cokes. He pushes his morphine button almost constantly, even though the doctors and nurses tell him he’s already maxed out. They began by keeping Aegon overnight for observation, and then he developed pneumonia, and then the first type of antibiotics didn’t work and they had to play roulette until they found one that did. Now it’s a full week later—December 20th—and Aegon is finally feeling like himself again and is due to be released tomorrow. Sunfyre has been staying with you and your parents. He loves it, he gets constant attention and enjoys gazing out the window to see if his new best friend the cow moose will show up. Meanwhile, Trent has convinced his boss Rusty—another high school classmate of your parents, another hulking bearded specimen of the enmeshed Juneau ecosystem—to let Aegon keep his job despite the extended leave; Trent even managed to get Aegon paid time off for the first five days. This is all rather heroic of him. It makes you feel bad for thinking he might be a serial killer. If Trent knows that Aegon was drunk on the job, he hasn’t mentioned it to anybody.

“I got you something,” Aegon tells you when you get off work. It’s just after sunset, the last whisps of pink and lilac dusk vanishing from the sky. Things have been slow at the vet clinic as Christmas draws near, which is good in that you can leave early and visit Aegon more often. It’s bad because you’re less busy, less preoccupied; you have all the time in the world to think about him. Aegon is propped up in bed on pillows—his hair slicked back from his face, his eyes sleepy and racoonish—and wearing a hospital gown that’s too big for him. You can see his collarbones and his tattoos, though you’re trying very hard not to stare, to wonder. He points to the table beside his bed. There’s a bouquet of blue roses lying there.

“For me?!”

“For the person who literally brought me back from the dead? Yeah, I don’t think it’s too extravagant.”

You give him one of the hot chocolates you bought from the hospital cafeteria. It’s not as good as his, obviously, but it’s better than nothing. He clutches the Styrofoam cup with both hands, steam rolling up into his face. He inhales the scent, closes his eyes, sighs deeply with a smile. “I hope they aren’t stolen,” you say about the roses, only half-kidding.

“They’re from the gift shop. I dragged myself down there after lunch. They really weren’t that expensive, I think the cashier gave me a still-attached-to-an-IV discount.”

“Was she cute?”

“She was eighty years old.”

You laugh and sit down in the chair beside his bed, sipping your own hot chocolate: thin, watery, weak. You admire the roses, threading velvety cerulean petals through your fingers. “I love them, really, but I wish you wouldn’t buy things for me. I know you’re chronically short on money. And I am somehow skeptical that you have health insurance. Do you have health insurance?”

He grins toothily. “Nope.”

“Aegon,” you lament.

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll bill me, I’ll never pay, it’s all made up.”

“You might need a halfway decent credit score one day.”

He shakes his head. “I’m never going to try to get a mortgage. I’m never going to apply for a job at a bank or a law firm. I’ll be fine. I’ll live in a tree if that’s what it takes.”

You rest your palm against his cheek and then his forehead, checking for fever. His skin is warm but not hot, pale but not bloodless. You can feel his eyes on you, trying to catch your gaze like a hook through a fish. You avoid them.

“How do I look, vet lady?”

“I’m not really qualified to evaluate humans.”

“I don’t want to get better.”

Now you do stare at him, direct and mystified. “Why?”

“I’m worried you won’t be nice to me anymore.”

You chuckle, relieved. “I’ll still be nice to you, Aegon.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

A nurse pops into the room, young and springy and jovial like a kitten. She must be new; you don’t recognize her, and you’ve been here a lot. “Good afternoon, I’m just swinging by to take your vitals. I see you’re scheduled to go home tomorrow, how exciting!” The nurse squints down at the chart she has pinned to a clipboard. “Aegon…?”

He smirks long-sufferingly. “It’s Greek.”

“It’s lovely!” the nurse recovers. She measures his temperature and heartrate and blood pressure, his reflexes and his oxygenation. He passes all inquiries with flying colors. She congratulates Aegon on his recovery and flits off to tend to more needy patients. You think of the nights you’ve spent curled up in this chair, listening to Aegon’s labored, rattling breathing and watching blooms of flare-hot crimson fever creep across his face. You think of how much it’s going to kill you to lose him someday. You find yourself staring at his tattoos, ink that someone else put there in some other city, remnants of the life he had before.

“You can ask,” Aegon says. “I’m sure you’re wondering.”

You set your hot chocolate on the table and move closer to him, ghosting your fingertips over the words: I’m a killer. He jolts a little, although not in a bad way, not in an unwelcome way. He doesn’t lean away from you. In fact, he leans in. “What’s up with that?”

“Would this be an awkward moment for me to confess that I’m the Ice Fisher?”

You smile. “You have to admit that it’s a little weird. There’s a killer on the loose, you have a tattoo that says you’re a killer, I think any reasonable observer would have questions.”

“Kimmie didn’t.”

“Reasonable observer, I said. Reasonable.”

“It’s not a confession. It’s a Johnny Cash lyric.”

“Really? Which song?” You know a fair amount of Johnny Cash thanks to your dad’s extensive vinyl collection. You skim through his discography in your head: Walk The Line, Ring Of Fire, Get Rhythm, Folsom Prison Blues, I Got Stripes. You can’t remember any of them having that line. It circles around in your skull, only sounding like Aegon’s voice: I’m a killer, I’m a killer.

“I’ve Been Everywhere,” he says. “It’s a cover, actually. Some other guy did it first. But I didn’t know that when I got inked. And I loved Johnny Cash’s version when I heard it. It was like my theme song.”

“Ohhh, right, that’s the one where he lists all the cities he’s been to, like Reno, uh, and Chicago, and, uhhh…”

Aegon sings, deep but hoarse: “Fargo, Minnesota, Buffalo, Toronto, Winslow, Sarasota, Wichita, Tulsa, Ottawa, Oklahoma, Tampa, Panama, Mattawa, La Paloma—” He breaks off with a coughing fit.

“Stop,” you beg, laughing. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.” You trace the cursive letters lightly. I’m a killer. I’m a killer. “Kimmie never had questions about that?”

“I don’t think Kimmie really sees me. She just sees adjectives in the shape of my silhouette. But you…” He puts his hand over yours, pinning it to his chest. You can feel his heart under there somewhere, beneath muscles and bones and a pitch-black sea crawling with monsters that have evolved to live in the extreme gravity, in the depths: ghosts of the past and sirens of the future. He smiles. “You see a lot.”

“20/20, baby.” You study his scars. They’re random like a scatterplot, none large enough to appear life-threatening. “How did you get these?”

“Car accident. A long time ago.”

“Before you left Miami?”

He gazes absently out the window, where snow is falling. You can see it drifting down to the earth in the gloomy beams of streetlights. “Yeah.”

Now there are new lyrics bubbling up in your mind, not anything by Johnny Cash but Cake’s The Distance. No trophy, no flowers, no flashbulbs, no wine, he’s haunted by something he cannot define. And perhaps you know something about what that feels like. “Do you really think I’m a coward?” you ask softly. “I know you’re trying not to lie to me. So I’m hoping you’ll tell me the truth. You might be the only person who will.”

Aegon pauses before he answers. “I think a lot of people are cowards in one way or another,” he says diplomatically. “And I think that if that’s your greatest flaw as a human—that you don’t want to disappoint your parents, that you don’t want to hurt them, that you want to repay them for being so wonderful when there are people out there who beat and murder their kids—you turned out alright.”

You think of how easy it would be to rest your head on his bare, scarred chest and let him hold you. You think of how much you want that, want it in a sudden and ravenous and unbearable sort of way. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“No problem, Appletini.”

There is a knock on the door, and you jerk away from Aegon. You pick up your hot chocolate and slurp it as you sink into the chair. Aegon laces his hands together and wrings them. Trent walks in. “Sup, bro?!” he pipes cheerfully.

“Bro,” Aegon offers in return. They bump fists.

“You look like you’re feeling better.”

“I definitely am.”

“Still getting let out tomorrow?”

“Yup. Like a prisoner who made parole. Kimmie already offered to drive me home.” Then he adds: “Platonically.” Kimmie’s the only one in the friend group without a real job. Her parents are both university professors—you aren’t sure how none of the genius chromosomes made their way down the genetic Plinko board to her, but they didn’t—and she gets paid to be their ‘research assistant’…which means she works rarely and with no accountability whatsoever.

Trent’s eyes dart to you, to the blue roses, to you again, finally back to Aegon. He’s beaming, but there’s something hollow about it, like if you struck him across the face it would crack like porcelain. “Flowers, huh? That’s dope.”

“Yeah, I figured it was the least I could do since she saved my life and all.”

“She’s fantastic,” Trent agrees proudly, like he owns you. “In fact, that’s kind of why I’m here.” He turns to you. “I called the house and your parents told me I should check the hospital. I wanted to…you know, now that Aegon’s basically better and we all know he’s not gonna die…I wanted to take you to dinner tomorrow.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, stupidly, like you’re unfamiliar with the concept. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, someplace nice. Candlelight and fancy dessert, the whole deal.”

A date. That’s definitely a date. You stare at Trent. He stares at you. Aegon frowns at you both, pressing his knuckles to his lips. “Dinner,” you say awkwardly, but with more conviction. “Totally. Dinner would be nice.”

“Awesome!” Trent thunders. “I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“Sounds good!” you say with overcompensating enthusiasm. Trent swoops in for an unexpected hug—nearly spilling your hot chocolate—and gives Aegon a parting fist bump. Then he’s gone.

“I owe him,” you explain to Aegon, speaking quickly, nervously. “He saved your life, he fished you out of the channel like a goddamn salmon. He’s responsible for you keeping your job. He’s getting you paid time off. He’s been around the hospital a lot this week, he’s been so helpful, selflessly helpful…I can’t just tell him to fuck off after all that.” And then you say: “But it’s only dinner! Only one dinner!”

“Need some condoms?” Aegon teases, trying to make you smile. It works. “I have a box I’m not currently using.”

“I’m on the pill.”

“Good to know.”

“I doubt your condoms are horse-sized anyway.”

“Hey hey hey, it’s not about the number of inches, it’s about how you use them.”

“I’ve heard some very interesting things. About your inches, I mean.”

“Oh no,” he groans, covering his blushing face with his hands.

“I didn’t say bad things. I said interesting things.”

“I wouldn’t mind you knowing from firsthand experience,” he says with a sly little grin you can’t quite read. It’s playful, it’s sharp, it’s baiting, it’s sad.

“About what?”

“About my inches.”

You both burst out laughing, so hard Aegon launches into another coughing fit. You reach for him instinctively, pressing your hand to his chest again as if you can cure him, not a palm reader but a faith healer. A miracle worker. A professional fixer.

“You think it’s safe?” he asks, seriously now. “Dinner, I mean. With Trent.”

“I think he’d have a hard time strangling me in the middle of a crowded restaurant. And everyone’s going to know we’re hanging out together tomorrow night, he’d have to be more than stupid to kill me. He’d have to be all brainstem, like an alligator or a shark. Besides, he doesn’t want me dead.”

“I know. He wants you to be his wife.” There’s nothing to fill the uneasy lull but the pounding of your own heartbeat. “Call me,” Aegon says abruptly. “When you get home tomorrow night. So I know you’re okay.” So I know you didn’t get murdered. So I know you’re not at the bottom of a lake somewhere.

“What if it’s not until really late? I don’t want to disturb you while you’re recovering.”

He looks out the window: into the frigid void, into nothing. “Still call me.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Trent takes you to the Red Dog Saloon, Juneau’s idea of fine dining. You intentionally dress to look not-sexy: dark blue flannel (you’ve warmed to the fabric since Aegon wears it so much) with a T-shirt underneath, jeans, boots, minimal makeup, hair in an I-really-don’t-care messy loose braid. Trent doesn’t seem to notice that this isn’t supposed to be a date. He’s wearing a button-up maroon shirt and khakis. He chats away blithely as you survey the menu. He’s had the servers bring out candles to put on the table. He’s ordered craft beers for you both. You wrinkle your nose and shudder after each thick bitter sip, chasing the beer with desperate gulps of water. Whoever owns the Red Dog Saloon does not share Dale’s devotion to Shania Twain and Christmas music; the stereo is playing Savage Garden’s Crash And Burn.

“Ready to order?” the waitress asks, casting former-football-star Trent a flirtatious smile just in case he’s single. He is! you mentally shout, hoping for telepathy. He just doesn’t know it!

“Yeah,” you begin. “I think I’d like to try your brisket—”

“Oh no, no no no,” Trent says with a chuckle. He flips his hair; in your head, you hear a neigh. “They have a great special. Trout with risotto. How fancy is that?! I don’t even know what risotto is! We gotta try that. We gotta make tonight special.”

“Okay. Yeah. Sure.” You give the waitress a tight smirk as you hand her the menu. “The trout special. Two of them, I guess.”

“You’ll love it,” the waitress promises, tossing Trent another smile like a penny into a fountain. She takes both menus and disappears into the kitchen.

“So,” Trent says, drinking his beer. “I didn’t know you liked Aegon so much. I thought you kind of hated him, actually.”

You shrug, peering into the foam of your unwanted beer. “I don’t like to see anyone suffering. It doesn’t matter who.”

“That makes sense, I guess.”

“And you encouraged me to get along with him because you want him to stay in Juneau so he can be in your band.”

“Oh yeah, right. Okay, never mind. I was just…curious.” Another hair flip.

“Look, Trent…” You gather your courage like raking up autumn leaves. “We’re friends, right?”

He chortles. “Well, I’d like to think we’re a lot more than that.”

I bet you would. “But we never…like…we never put a label on it, you know?”

“Do you need a label?” he says. You had worried he might be mad; instead, he’s amused. You aren’t sure why that makes you feel worse. “Is that what makes it official, us using the words boyfriend, girlfriend, relationship, whatever?”

“Maybe those words don’t really apply to us, and that’s why we haven’t used them yet,” you try hopefully. “Like, if we were supposed to date, it would feel more natural for us to date. But maybe it doesn’t feel so natural, so we’re better off staying friends.”

Now he puts his beer down and stares at you. The glass thumps against the glossy wood. He’s bending towards you, though you don’t think he’s even aware of it; he props his elbows on the table, his brow crinkling in bewilderment. And there’s something else in the lines of his face too. Anger. Indignation. Betrayal. “You want to be friends?”

“I didn’t say that,” you amend swiftly. “I just said maybe we’re better off as friends.”

He slaps his palm against the table—you flinch, hating that he has that power over you—and laughs in amazement. “I’m just…well, I’m shocked! You’re fine with kissing me, and watching movies in your bedroom, and hanging out all the time, and getting drinks together and playing pool and showing me off to your parents, but you’re horrified by the thought of calling it dating?! You’re too much, ladybug. You’re really too much.”

He's going to pretend he doesn’t see that I want out. And he’s going to keep pretending until he’s on his knees with a fucking ring from Zales. “I don’t think I’m looking for a relationship right now, Trent. With anyone.” Oh, and that’s such a goddamn lie.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He studies you; but that’s too kind a word for it. His eyes flay you down to the bone. “I’m a good guy, you know.”

“I know,” you lie, nodding agreeably.

“You’re not eighteen anymore,” he says. “It’s not like you have forever to find someone to settle down with. I go to work, I’m popular, I’m presentable, I care about you, I take you on dates, I move your furniture around whenever you fucking ask me to, I’m a good guy. I get that maybe this is progressing a little fast for you, and we can slow down if that’s what you want. But I think it would be pretty stupid to give something like this up. Don’t you?”

It doesn’t sound like a question. It sounds like a threat. Don’t you? Don’t you? “You’re right, Trent,” you hear yourself say, like it’s someone else’s voice. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

The waitress arrives with your dinner and—not so subtly—slips Trent her number. He makes a great show of ripping it up in front of you. The trout and risotto thing is great, actually. It’s not what you walked in wanting, but it turned out just fine. And maybe that’s what the rest of your life will be like too: other people making choices, you hoping you’ll like the taste.

After dinner and dessert—a Baked Alaska, another of Trent’s suggestions that are more like nonnegotiables—he drives you home in his massive rumbling truck. You talk innocuously about your vet clinic clients, dogs and cats and hamsters and reindeer, until you roll to a stop in front of your parents’ house. You begin your goodbye, opening the truck door. Cold December air floods in.

“Okay Trent, thank you for a lovely night—” He cuts you off with a kiss he didn’t ask for, a hand on your face that feels hot and smothering. You’re so stunned it takes you a few seconds to try to push him away. He ignores you until you shove him so hard he can’t pretend not to notice.

“What are you so worried about?” he demands, he implores, like he’ll fix anything if you just name it, like he’ll strike the nails with his bare hands. But he can’t fix what’s wrong. What’s wrong is that I’m in love with Aegon Targaryen. “Are you scared I’ll be bored of you once you give it all up? Are you worried about getting pregnant? Aren’t you on the pill? I saw the pack in your bedroom.”

You’re nauseated that he noticed, that he’s imagined you like that: naked, compliant, vulnerable. “Yes, Trent, but that’s for me, not for you.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

You tell him the truth. Not the whole truth—not enough to enrage him—but the crux of it: the spine, the heart. “I always thought I knew exactly what my life was going to look like, but now I’m…I’m…”

“Well this is what comes next, right?” Trent says. “You check the boxes for school and work, and then it’s time to settle down. Get married, buy a house, have kids. I’m ready to give you that. I want to give you that. Don’t you want it too?”

Aegon is going to leave, you think with steel-cold dread. Sooner or later, he’ll disappear to start over again in some anonymous new city. And what will my life look like then? What will I have when he’s gone? “I guess I just need some more time to figure things out.”

Trent nods, his jaw clenched tight, looking out into the darkness through his windshield. “I’m not criticizing you for waiting. I’m just wondering what the hell you’re waiting for.”

Inside the house is hushed and empty; your parents are enjoying a night out with your dad’s bowling league. They even took Sunfyre with them. You drag yourself upstairs, each step a mile. You brush your teeth—twice—to get the taste of Trent and craft beer out of your mouth. And then you stand in your bedroom surrounded by posters and magazines, surrounded by fantasies that you will never wrap your hands around. You glance at the box full of Jesse’s journals; you can see the cardboard edge of it poking out from beneath your bed. He’s gone, and he wasn’t perfect, in fact in many ways he was a curse, was a plague, was a monster. But I think my mom would give anything for one more day with him. After all these years, I still think she would.

The blue roses Aegon gave you are in a vase on your nightstand, right next to the phone. They’re already dying. And now your throat is burning, and your eyes are wet with tears, and when defenseless sobs rip from your chest there is no one here to hear them. I don’t want to protect myself from what it would have been like with him. I want to know.

You snatch up the phone, find the Post-it note with Aegon’s number written on it, call him before you have time to change your mind. When he answers, it’s clear you woke him up. His voice is slow and groggy. “Hello?”

“Can I come over?”

“Huh…?”

“Can I please come over? I need to come over. I need to come over right now.”

Now he’s awake. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m at home, I’m fine, I’m safe, I just…I just…” You swipe the tears from your eyes and take a long, trembling breath. “I just need to come over.”

“No problem,” Aegon says. He is puzzled, he is concerned…but you think a part of him is glad too. “I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

You drive your Jeep to his apartment building and park it—badly, crookedly, like he would—under a streetlight. The night is fiercely, brutally cold when you dive out into it. The full moon is an island; the indigo, star-flecked sky is an ocean deep with secrets and bones and wreckage, splinters of swallowed lives dissolving into the blue. Upstairs, Aegon’s door is already unlocked. He’s wearing a black Nirvana T-shirt and green flannel pajama pants, his hair disheveled. He’s also making hot chocolate.

“Hi,” he says casually, filling the mugs. He adds splashes of French vanilla coffee creamer—plus some 99 Whipped for his green mug—and swirls of whipped cream, then shaves on a generous dusting of Hershey’s chocolate. He gives you the blue mug. You take it in quivering hands. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m amazing.”

“Okay.” He waits, patient and watchful, sipping his hot chocolate.

You feel better after a few minutes tick by. Aegon’s apartment is serene and still. The tv is dark; there’s no music, no voices, no distractions. You can barely hear the screech of the Arctic wind outside. The only light turned on is the one in the kitchen; the rest of the apartment is shadows. The hot chocolate is warm, rich, comforting, safe. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty great,” Aegon replies. “Normal.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.” He gazes at you, still waiting.

You finish your hot chocolate and put the mug in the kitchen sink. You take your hair out of your braid and shake it loose, surveying his apartment with aimless steps: his couch, his guitar, his litany of refrigerator magnets, his unmade bed. Aegon sets his mug down on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Appletini,” he says. “Why are you here?”

You turn back to him, but you can’t find your words. It’s on your face, it has to be; it’s in a language Aegon can speak fluently. You see the understanding flicker in his eyes like firelight: sudden, bright, exhilarated.

“Say it,” he prompts. “You have to say it, or I’m not going to believe you.”

You try, you really do try. But you can’t get the words to leave your lips. You don’t know how to put what you want from him into words at all. Anything, everything.

He smiles, softly like a whisper. “Me first, huh?” Then he begins undressing. He yanks his Nirvana T-shirt over his head—further tangling his hair—and tosses it across the room. He slips off his pajama pants, and then his boxers too. He’s standing there in the florescent kitchen light, flesh and ink and track marks and scars. “Okay, your turn. If you’re still interested.”

“I want you to do that part.”

He crosses the scuffed hardwood floor, his footsteps quiet. His fingers find the top button of your flannel shirt. His eyes are fixed on yours as he unhooks the first button, another, another after that. He leans in to press his lips to your throat, just beneath your jaw. Slowly, exquisitely slowly, he kisses his way down to your collarbone as he unfastens the rest of the buttons and gently pulls off your shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He slips his hands below the hem of the T-shirt you’re wearing underneath and lifts it away, his knuckles grazing your belly, your waist, your ribs, the lace of your bra. And then he cradles your face in his hands and kisses you with exceptional, reverent slowness, like you’re something that could shatter. You can’t reconcile this man with the sort of wild acrobatics that Kimmie had described. And then you’re not thinking about Kimmie at all. The past is a black hole, the future is an empty sky. There’s no room in this lightning-brief sliver of eternity for anyone else.

You breathe him in: sweetness, warmth, the bite of alcohol, fire and shadows and light. He unbuttons your jeans, unzips them, kneels down to peel them off of you. He touches his lips to your thigh—first the outside, then the downy-soft inside—and hesitates for a moment before he stands to kiss your lips again. His hands skim across your bare back towards the clasp of your bra, raising goosebumps like twilight stars. And then again, he hesitates. His hands come back to your face, his fingertips calloused but lithe.

“You’re nervous,” you murmur, smiling. You tuck his escaped lock of hair behind his ear, pressing yourself against him: hips, chest, soul. The sapphire blue lace of your bra and panties rustles across his skin. You can’t get close enough to him; it’s not possible, it’s not fathomable. He’s holding himself back, you can tell. He’s panting with the effort. In the midnight silence, you can hear every sound he makes with crystalline clarity. The moonlight pours in, painting you both in ghostly silver light.

Aegon chuckles shakily. “I am,” he admits.

“I think you’ve done this once or twice before.”

“Yeah, but not with you.”

“I want this,” you say, your lips to the curl of his ear. His skin is hot with eager, rushing blood. “And I want you to be the one to set me free.”

Something snaps in him, something breaks like a wave. Your bra tumbles to the floor, your panties are whisked away, you and Aegon are on the bed together tangled up like arteries flush with life. There is a breathless sort of desperation in it: in the way your fingers intertwine, in his gasps and your moans, in the sustained pleasure—so intense it borders on pain—that causes euphoric tears to spring up in your eyes, in his deep, startlingly powerful thrusts that begin slowly and then build to a furious rhythm. And you know then that he agrees, it’s not possible to ever get close enough to each other; but still, you resolve to try.

“Look at me, baby,” Aegon whispers as you arch into him and you beg him not to stop, his palm turning your face towards his. “Look at me, look at me, look at me…”

You unravel like thread torn from a spool until its empty, like a mystery, like stitches clipped from a healed wound. There’s an insurmountable sort of peace that follows it. Nothing is okay, and yet everything is, and you can conjure up no words but only colors: the white of snow, the indigo of the night sky, the gold of the rare unclouded midday sun, the ethereal green-violet glow of the Northern Lights. Aegon empties himself inside you, crying out and kissing the side of your face over and over again, tasting heat and salt and your unnamed love for him. You can feel the serenity settling over him as if it’s your own pulse slowing, your own mind cleared like the horizon after a storm. You are irredeemably etched into each other. You are two sides of the same coin: too weightless, too rooted, unable to leave, unable to stay.

As you lay side by side in the moonlight, your fingers tangled in his hair, Aegon says: “You are the only thing that’s ever made me want to stop running.”

“You could stay. I want you to stay.”

“For a while.” He pulls you against him. You rest your head on his chest: ink, scars, slow thudding heartbeat. His fingertips draw invisible paths up the length of your spine. “Not forever. But for a while.”

She’s hoping in time that her memories will fade.

“I don’t want to have to forget you,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“Not yet,” Aegon vows. It’s the only promise he can make. He kisses your forehead, sweeping the tears from your cheeks with his hands. “Not yet.”

[yuseirra]

ch160...again

I know none of you here would be doing this but I burst out laughing this morning out of.. how absurd some of the reactions were oh my god....

I don’t really look at other people’s reactions much because it stresses me out, but I did come across a few Youtube thumbnails while skimming through, you see? There's been a lot :/

I really don’t know if I’m watching the same piece of work with them!!!

Like, seriously, let's just sit down and think for a moment.

If seeing a toothbrush lights up the flame of madness in someone, isn’t that person the creepy one, not Kamiki?

I mean, how does someone’s expression darken just because they see a toothbrush? Is that a joke? I can get Nino despairing or getting swayed that way because she encountered her boyfriend's death (seriously, why date Ryosuke out of all people? He's trash!! Why Nino WHY??), but Ryosuke? He’s clearly not in his right mind. Think about it.

Ryosuke is seriously a creepy person. He goes to Kamiki’s house, sees two toothbrushes, and one of them is labeled “Ai’s ♥” — then his face turns pale like he's encountered some kind of nightmare. Is that normal?? I want him gone. That's a stalker too close to home, it gets on my nerves. what makes him be that way?

Please, think about it... Please... this is so absurd to the point it's funny, I can’t take it anymore. What is this? Are we even watching the same piece? This is ridiculous

The guy kept talking about how much he missed his ex-girlfriend. And that... that’s what became the motive for Nino and Ryosuke to kill someone and attempt murder. Hey, which side would be the crazy ones if you had to pick a side?

Aqua might bring more evidence regarding Yura in the next chapter of something, and if at that point it turns out, “Wow, he was the mastermind all along,” I can understand that.

But right now, with just this, you’re telling me Kamiki's incited people’s madness and deliberately stirred up their emotions to make them into killers or whatever?

Does this make sense? Does that even sound reasonable? To me, it’s satirizing the obsessive madness surrounding idols. Isn’t it? Because there really are people who stalk idols and do creepy things. Ryosuke couldn’t stand the fact that the idol he adored had a boyfriend, so he resorted to harming her being the malicious stalker he was. And Nino? She’s like one of those crazy fans who attack other idols because they’re more popular than the one she stans. That’s what this is a metaphor for. It’s absurd. Do people actually interpret it literally? Kamiki is right. He did nothing.

Let’s reflect on this from an ethical perspective. Even if this were a real situation, would you take everything at face value? I hope not. I hope you don’t think any of this was justified. No, look, the visions Aqua brought was definitely a gag. It was meant to be funny. How does Ryosuke, who’s nobody, pale at the sight of someone’s toothbrush in the same cup as their boyfriend’s? He’s seriously a strange person!! If someone had caught onto this earlier, Ai wouldn’t have died! Someone should have reported him to the police when he showed these signs but he hid his true colors so well huh? What an unfortunate thing to have happened. He shouldn't have existed. There is no need for a person like him to exist in this world.

Aqua, please get a grip. Make some sense. Please... This is making me angry.

I'm not defending your father because I favor him, he HAS to pay if he's done wrong; but you really can’t justify this. It’s stressing me out so much I think I’m going crazy. If this is all you have for you confront your father and aim a knife at him to tell him to get lost, it’s not enough. This comic seriously gives me a headache.

Kamiki is just too pitiful... yeah, the guy really is a sad figure.

When Ai herself said she wished someone would help him, the outcome has been set in stone.

The problem is how to get to the outcome, but the answer is already there. That’s how I jumped in with conviction. This is where the story will head regarding that man.

This person deserves to be saved.

But how in the world are they supposed to be saved? I have no idea... They will though. I wasn't very good with predicting the little details that'd lead to the outcomes, but I've always been right about the conclusions, regarding this manga.

[goodnightmemes]

YELLOWJACKETS SEASON ONE SENTECE STARTERS

❛ So what do you think really happened out there? ❜

❛ All I know is that what happened was a tragedy. ❜

❛ Is this really how you thought your life was gonna turn out? ❜

❛ I don't give a shit what you meant, you smug little bitch. You don't know a fucking thing about my life. ❜

❛ Want a quickie in the bathroom? ❜

❛ I'm pretty sure it's exactly as bad as it looks. ❜

❛ I liked the saints. They were all so tragic. ❜

❛ You're the only one who's always been there for me. ❜

❛ You're the best friend I've ever had. You know that, right? ❜

❛ We agreed. Say no more than we have to, stay out of the public eye. ❜

❛ We're gonna need to change the bandages soon. And then hourly after that. ❜

❛ Are you trying to be adorable with me? Does that usually work for you? ❜

❛ You are so mad. And yet so wrong. ❜

❛ You crazy fucking bitch. ❜

❛ If you maybe want to maybe get a drink another 20 years from now, you'll know how to reach me. ❜

❛ They'll be here to rescue us by morning. ❜

❛ If poison ivy's what kills me out here, then I deserve to die. ❜

❛ We think we know what we're doing, but really we have no clue. ❜

❛ Wolves can kill anything if the pack's big enough. ❜

❛ If you want me busting kneecaps, it's gonna cost extra. ❜

❛ You know, you can learn so much about a person by going through their personal refuse. ❜

❛ You two are the worst for each other, and I don't want to pull you out of that toxic shit again. ❜

❛ It's so easy for you to judge others with your perfect life, right? ❜

❛ We might be stuck in the middle of nowhere, but, hey, at least there's porn. ❜

❛ You're beautiful when you're honest. ❜

❛ Well, mainly, I've just been trying to channel you, so I've been being dark and deadpan. ❜

❛ Oh, please don't be mad. It's a really long drive home, and uncomfortable silences make me uncomfortable. ❜

❛ The worst is behind us, okay? We're gonna be fine. ❜

❛ Are you kidding me right now? "A bad feeling"? I don't believe in that shit, and you're not going to either. ❜

❛ I don't know what you're so scared of. You've already got blood on your hands. ❜

❛ I think bad things happened here. ❜

❛ I think we should get together and strategize. You know, pop a few pins on the old corkboard. ❜

❛ Look, you can follow me or not, just don't slow me down. ❜

❛ Is this some kind of sex thing? ❜

❛ I can already smell the ghosts of hangovers past. ❜

❛ Has anyone ever told you your obsession with biographical minutia is the opposite of a turn-on? ❜

❛ I know when you look at me, you don't see someone you should be afraid of, but, you're wrong. ❜

❛ Okay. Yes, ma'am/sir. I'll perfectly calibrate my tone as I tell you to go fuck yourself. ❜

❛ You had to know I was, like, totally in love with you, right? ❜

❛ It doesn't matter how shitty of parents they are. It still fucks you up when they're gone. ❜

❛ I don't understand why I'm the only one in this family who thinks that actions should have consequences. ❜

❛ Well, you've never been good at being anything other than yourself. Honestly, it's your superpower. ❜

❛ You can't keep not pitching in. People are noticing. ❜

❛ I don't belong here, and I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this. ❜

❛ Wait, is this a pep talk? Wow, that is so not your style. ❜

❛ Cheering people up is your thing. ❜

❛ You make people feel like things are gonna be okay just by showing up and...being your dumb, hot, awesome self. At least you always did that for me. ❜

❛ I feel like I just look like I fell off a Fifty Shades of Grey bus tour. ❜

❛ I just had a brainstorm. We should have a seance. ❜

❛ You're so not fine. Do you think I can't see that? ❜

❛ You poisoned me. Why? ❜

❛ Why can't you accept the possibility that there are things in this world we don't understand? ❜

❛ Please. Promise me you won't do anything stupid. ❜

❛ I'd sell my firstborn for a cheesesteak right now. ❜

❛ I am beyond upset. I don't even know who the hell you are right now. ❜

❛ It's not your fault. What happened. ❜

❛ I can't imagine how exhausting it must've been, always comparing yourself to someone so beautiful and smart. ❜

❛ You know, for someone who went through some shit of their own, it never ceases to amaze me how shut off you are to help. ❜

❛ I have no regrets. None. And I want you to know that. ❜

❛ I think I'm seeing things. In the Bible, people had visions, right? Like prophets and stuff? ❜

❛ I don't want to die! ❜

❛ The '50 s called, they want your dumbass attitude back. ❜

❛ Goodnight. Sleep tight. Don't let the fact that you're a terrible person keep you up tonight. ❜

❛ You're not gonna talk me out of this. ❜

❛ And who knows? With you as our fearless fucking leader, we might actually make it. ❜

❛ I know that this makes me, like, this totally selfish asshole, but I don't want you to go, okay? ❜

❛ You're obviously hiding something from me, and it's making me feel crazy. ❜

❛ What did I do? When did you stop wanting me to be your best friend? ❜

❛ I'm just saying, you know, if this was a horror movie, she'd be the villain, right? ❜

❛ Not the first time I've been held hostage. ❜

❛ You see, that is what we call leverage in my line of work. Let me go, and I'll tell you everything I know. ❜

❛ You only have leverage if I am not willing to make you talk, which, in this case, means that you have no leverage at all. ❜

❛ You guys are just as fucked-up as I am. You're just better at lying to yourselves. You're not healthy. You're not stable. You're living on the brink, just like me. ❜

❛ Every single cell in your body wants to blow things up and see what happens. That's who you are. ❜

❛ You know what? I really thought that we had something. Okay? And I thought this was… ❜

❛ I hate to break it to you, but we were just fucking. And your whole high school crush on me was really cute, but now it's just pathetic. ❜

❛ If this is an anniversary present, you are three months and my entire personality off. ❜

❛ Relationships are bullshit anyway. Trust me. Whatever you did, she'll get over it. ❜

❛ I'm pretty much the best friend you have right now. And that's not much of a competition, is it? ❜

❛ If I'm being honest, not a single one of those things felt...real. ❜

❛ I'm the reason she went. And I'm the reason she got hurt. ❜

❛ It's like if someone made me feel "it" ... it wasn't gonna be good for anybody, you know? ❜

❛ There is no "safe" anymore. ❜

❛ I wish I'd never fucking met you. ❜

❛ You don't understand. I'm afraid I'm going to hurt you... Please. I am begging you. Please. Please, just go. ❜

❛ Hey. Look, nothing has happened yet. We can still fix this. Just need you to put down the knife. And we can talk this through. ❜

❛ We'll drink rotten berries and celebrate our impending death. ❜

❛ You were never supposed to get involved in this. It just... It got out of control. ❜

❛ What do you mean, you killed someone? Like you murdered someone? ❜

❛ I can't believe you thought I was going to book club this whole time. ❜

❛ When did we become these people who lie and cheat and do awful things and just stay together because…'cause why? ❜

❛ We've always been these people. Secrets have always been a part of us. ❜

❛ You could've talked to me about that, you know. For a long time, I thought maybe you might, but… ❜

❛ Friendship doesn't matter. Love doesn't matter. They're just things that we use to pretend we aren't gonna end up like dead cabin guy; like rotted-out husks in some bullshit attic. ❜

❛ Don't you understand? You don't matter anymore. ❜

❛ That's enough of your weird fucking bullshit. Haven't you done enough? ❜

❛ 12% of all killers are caught buying cleaning supplies. Also, regular bleach leaves behind hemoglobin for the luminol tests. ❜

❛ I think what you mean to say is, "Hi, [name]. It's so great to see you after all this time. Thanks for swinging by and helping us cover up a murder." ❜

❛ You know, gardening, PTA, dismembering my lover's corpse. ❜

❛ I saw something. After...it happened. I don't think I was dead. But I wasn't really alive, either. I think I was, like...In-between. ❜

❛ I know what I saw. I don't know what it meant. But I know I saw something. Something was out there with us. ❜

❛ We just howl at the moon now and have fucking orgies? ❜

❛ You're so obsessed with yourself, I'm surprised you're aware other people even exist. ❜

❛ I'm not jealous of you. I feel sorry for you. Because you're weak. And I think that deep down, you know it. ❜

❛ I'd say it was soul-crushing, if I remembered what it felt like to have one. ❜

❛ So glad you're joining us. We've been waiting for you. ❜

[wombywoo]

for your OCs: 👕 1 & 12; 🌥 14; 🎲 2 & 7; 🤝 2; and 💓 1 from the most recent ask game <3

sorry if this is too much, i'm just very interested in them

thanks so much, seriously I don't mind at all 😭it means so much that people are interested 🙏

👕Appearance

1 has been answered~

12. Has your character gone through major stylistic or physical changes?

Quinn--well, there was the emo phase, lol. I think every teenage boy in the 2000s sported that unfortunate haircut, but it was time to let it go in the adult years, god bless 🙏As for personal style, he's pretty basic; not much to change when he's wearing standard-issue stuff most of the time. Maybe Vincent can help spruce him up though 👀

Vince has gone through multiple style changes over the years. He likes to stay up to date with trends, so he goes through an overhaul every decade. I'd say currently, he's sticking to more of an old-fashioned look, mayhaps out of nostalgia. But yeah--he does like to experiment with his look 💅 Helps that he looks good in everything ✨

🌤️Weather and Nature

14. Does your character prefer hot or cold weather?

Vincent definitely prefers cold weather (for obvious reasons ☀️💥) but if he layers up with vampire sunblock and a shady hat, he doesn't mind the warmer seasons. Quinn doesn't really have a preference for either--he hates extremes, and prefers something in the middle

🎲 Hobbies and Activities

2. Does your character have a secret hobby?

Vincent has had an ongoing DnD campaign at his house with his buddies for over 30 years (no, Quinn does not know about this.....yet)

Quinn has been actively trying to paint with mixed results. Some of his 'works' are absolutely terrible, others are terrible but in a way that looks pretentiously artful (almost always accidental)

7. What is a talent that your character is proud of?

Vincent has quite a nice singing voice, but he's a lil shy about singing with an audience (he's still proud of it, as his mother was fond of listening to him when he was younger).

Quinn....has no gag reflex, lmao

🤝Community and Relationships

2. What is your character's favorite kind of social event?

Vincent looooves a good dinner party, bonus points if there's a theme! ✨(oh wow I bet he'd through the best murder mystery parties...)

Quinn prefers the pub or club scene, the darker the better. He's not overly social, but get a few drinks in him and his flirtiness awakens

💓Mind, Body and Soul

What is a habit your character has that others might find cute?

Quinn has his fiddling with his ears thing that Vince is secretly obsessed with 🥺 He also tends to scrunch up when he's sleeping into a little ball, even in odd places (makes him look like a kid, Vincent has told him)

Vincent tends to sniff things pretty intensely. Quinn's hair, his skin, his clothes. Kind of like an elongated sigh; a deep inhale and a slow exhale. He almost always sniffs a food item before using it in a recipe and Quinn once asked him if he could 'smell the quality of the ingredient' which he swears he can!! 😤

[burnwater13]

Cad Bane, standing on a street in Mos Espa, facing Boba Fett in full armor. Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 7, In the Name of Honor. Calendar from DateWorks.

Grogu had never met Cad Bane. He wasn't really sorry about that. Sometimes you hear about a person who was very important to a friend or mentor and you think, ‘Wow, I wish I knew them too’. That was the not the case for Cad Bane. 

Grogu had asked Daimyo Fett how he’d met the Duros bounty hunter and the older man hemmed and hawed and finally Fennec Shand replied for him. 

“He was unlucky.”

That pretty much settled the matter. Grogu knew that Fennec had no love lost for Fett’s one time teacher, but since the Daimyo nodded at her words, Grogu learned all he wanted to know. He’d met and spent time with people who had ended up being less a friend and more an enemy over time. He didn’t recommend it. You never really questioned why they turned out to be so awful, but you asked yourself why you didn't see through it all much sooner. 

Grogu might have said that Dr. Pershing was a person like Cad Bane. He was obsessed with what he wanted and thought he was doing the right thing and pursued it pretty relentlessly. But it had all failed and Grogu was happy about that. 

Fennec told him that Pershing was nothing like Cad Bane. 

“Coruscant is riddled with people like that. All hoping that if they could only get the attention of the people in power, they could achieve some ridiculous goal that no one else valued. The people in power called Cad Bane in to do the work that they were afraid to do themselves. Bane wasn't afraid of anything and that’s why the Daimyo is here and Bane is buried in the bantha paddock.”

Grogu was surprised at that. He didn't know why, but it seemed pretty odd. 

“That’s where I put all the… stuff I don’t want people like your pal Pershing to use for cloning projects. Trust me, if I’d had my way, Moff Gideon would have never had another chance to go after you or your dad. He would have ended up as fertilizer for the rancor’s favorite plants.”

Wow. Grogu had always know that Fennec was a very straightforward person with great tactical skills and a first class strategic mind, but he forgot how nuanced she could be. She was kind of the opposite of Cad Bane. 

When he first met Fennec, Grogu was kind of worried about having another master assassin in his life. IG-11 had been very effective at that work and as person who generally thought that all life was good, it was quite a challenge to have friends who made a living at ending lives. Even if those people were volunteers according to his dad. 

But the more time he spent with Fennec, the more Grogu realized that she didn't just end people. She solved problems. If she could do that without ending the person, then fine. Take those Nikto gang members. She didn’t pick them all off during some sort of clean up operation after they had dealt with the Scorpenek annihilator droids. She just got rid of the ring leaders and that sent a message more effectively than a complete blood bath would have. At least that's what his dad told him. 

The Mandalorian was very impressed with the levels of restraint that Fennec had displayed. Considering the Mandalorian view of enemies, Grogu figured that Fennec had displayed the patience of a Jedi Master. 

“Buddy, I don't think you want to tell her that. I’m not sure she reveres the Jedi as much as you do.”

But Din Djarin was wrong about that. Fennec had told him once that she never got involved in the problems that included the Jedi.

“Listen kid, the whole point of the work I do is to solve problems. If I’m not solving the problem, I don't get paid. The whole point of the Jedi was to solve the same problems I was generally assigned to resolve, but they had access to weapons I could never bring to bear. There’s no such thing as a fair fight which is why I don’t take risks like that. The Jedi always had an advantage, so I found other problems to solve. That’s why I’m still here and a lot of other folks aren’t.”

Fennec hadn’t been smug about that either. She hadn’t pointed out that the Jedi had been almost entirely wiped out. She didn’t say ‘I told you so’ or anything like that. She had patted her midsection where her mods were and that’s what convinced Grogu that she and the Daimyo were nothing like Cad Bane. Boba Fett had gone out of his way to save her. And she had stuck around to help him solve problems on Tatooine. 

This was definitely the way.

[lythea-creation]

Worst Prank Ever - Platonic Fred and George Weasley x fem reader

summary: During the summer holidays between their first and second year, Fred, George and (f/n) pull a prank they swear to never repeat again.

warnings: none, i think

word count: 729

Author's note: Feel free to check out my Masterlists and make requests. No reposting please! Reblogging, comments and requests are always appreciated <3 If you like the story/my writing, please don't be shy to say it via comments or asks! It takes you a few seconds and might make my day. It's the best appreciation you can show to a writer you like.

Requested? Yes

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

Hogwarts was a place full of magic and new experiences. As a first year I was excited to leave my old muggle school behind to learn how to cast spells, fly on a broom and tame exotic beasts.

But I had not considered that despite all the magic, Hogwarts was still a school.

Therefore I was rejoiced to befriend the Weasley twins, Fred and George. With them by my side boredom was not even in my vocabulary anymore.

Honestly I had never been one for pranks, but since they introduced me to them, I had turned into an obsessive fan. I was always the first one to know what they were planning, eager to participate despite the consequences.

We were a feared trio when it came to the teachers we did not quite get along with.

My parents did not mind the complaints that were sent their way as they were too busy working to care at all. So why should I care?

In the summer break it all continued.

Since my parents were on a business trip and hence could not take care of me, the Weasley's had allowed me to stay over at their home.

In the beginning I had been a bit timid and shy, but that had quickly changed when everyone had been so kind and welcoming. Having Fred and George around may have played a crucial part in that as well.

“Hey, (f/n)! Let's go outside”, Fred suggested.

I did not hesitate to tag along.

A few minutes later we were deep inside the forest around the Burrow.

“Where are we going?”, I wondered.

I had never been inside a forest without an adult by my side. My parents did not allow me to go out on my own.

“There's a place we wanna show you”, George enlightened me.

After about thirty more minutes of walking through branches and roots, we finally arrived at … nothing. Why had they dragged me out here?

“Look up”, George instructed me.

Then I saw it. A giant tree house, hidden between the leaves of the tree.

“What are you waiting for? Let's get up there”, Fred encouraged us, climbing the tree first.

“Wow”, I uttered when I entered the tree house.

It was huge, filled with various things Fred and George must have brought over.

“It's our secret hideout”, George enlightened me.

“We found it when we got lost inside the forest. Nobody else knows about it. So don't be a snitch, okay?”, Fred remarked.

“Of course not”, I promised, outraged that they could even consider me to do it.

“What do you think? Wanna pull another prank and stay here for a few days? We brought food and water”, Fred suggested.

That was what the backpacks were for.

“You mean stay up here and even spend the night?”, I questioned.

“Exactly”, George confirmed.

“That's awesome”, I exclaimed. “I'm in!”

“It's settled then”, Fred noted with a huge grin.

We actually had a lot of fun in the tree house.

Fred and George had brought various magical games we could play. And we used our time to plan pranks for the new school year. At night we could go outside and spot some starts between the tree branches, but only if we climbed up even higher.

It was the best vacation ever.

Until we returned the next afternoon and Mrs. Weasley started yelling at us: “How could you act so irresponsible? We were worried sick! And (f/n), I promised your parents to look out for you. How could you just disappear? You all didn't even say a word. You're all grounded, forever! Now go to your room! I don't want to see you right now.”

Tears were flowing down my cheeks on the way upstairs. This was the first scolding I had gotten by someone else but a teacher and I was feeling agonizingly guilty.

Mrs. Weasley was right. I should have been more considerate.

“That definitely was a buzz”, George declared.

“The worst prank we ever pulled”, Fred agreed.

“Let's never stay away without telling mom again”, George decided.

“Agreed”, Fred and I replied simultaneously.

We stayed true to our word. Even as adults we were always telling Mrs. Weasley where we were going when we visited her.

[theavatarandthefirelord]

zukaang for the ask game

Thanks for the ask, anon! Also you made my day because I rbed the ask game (both here and on @chocomd) really really hoping that someone would ask me about Zukaang 😂

001 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

when I started shipping it if I did:

I'm pretty new to the Zukaang ship, but I've loved their relationship ever since I first watched ATLA in 2021. Then I got into fandom mostly for Kataang, but Zukaang always pulled at me. After a while I could see Aang and Zuko together romantically, but I never quite shipped them...until I started writing Zukaang into fic. The first time was in a Kataang fic, when they were so close (but still only friends) that people mistook them for a couple. And then last month I wrote a short fic, Nebulous Roads, that actually WAS romantic Zukaang...and yeah I became obsessed. It's like I've been peering over the edge at Zukaang for the longest time and someone finally pushed me in 😂

my thoughts:

Every enemies-to-lovers ship wants what Zukaang has!!! I'm not even talking about the infamous z.tara...I'm talking any ship, any fandom. Narrative foils who are uniquely isolated in their lonely destinies, connected to each other spiritually, antagonists even in their past lives, destined to meet again as enemies only to heal the world as friends, each one bearing scars that carry such emotional baggage, they give each other hope even while they're enemies, the way they are perfectly yin and yang...ugh I could go on.

So I find a lot of enemies-to-lovers ships not very compelling because the "enemies" part is either watered down or they hate each other so much that the ship isn't convincing (to me), plus I need more than chemistry to ship a pair. But Aang and Zuko were truly enemies and the animosity between them wasn't watered down (Zuko sincerely did try to harm or kill Aang lmao), but they grew to see each other as something more and were actually drawn to each other, and their path to becoming friends in canon is done so amazingly well. And while some of their romantic tension comes from their chemistry as antagonists, it's WAY more than just "argue/fight then kiss because I think you're hot." Anyway, enemies-to-lovers generally isn't my thing, but wow does it work for Zukaang!

What makes me happy about them:

The healing that Aang and Zuko find in each other. The rupture between them started with Roku and Sozin and with the Fire Nation wiping out the Air Nomads, and ends with Aang and Zuko finally closing that rift and bringing peace to the world together. Plus all of the trauma they both went through in their own lives mirrors the other like yin and yang mirror each other (and yet they each possess a piece of the other), and the way they find healing in each other makes my heart ache in the best way 🥺

What makes me sad about them:

That it's challenging for them to openly be together in the canon ATLA world (which I am very attached to since the canon story is what drew me into the fandom in the first place). Even if Kataang and Maiko didn't exist, there would be major political consequences if the post-war world found out that the Avatar and the Fire Lord were in a relationship. Plus there's the fact that Zuko needs to continue his family line, and Aang would need to find a way to bring back the airbenders (although I can see him giving up that particular task to the universe to figure out). I'm also very attached to Kataang, my other ATLA otp, and I don't love the idea of cheating in either relationship, so a world where both Kataang and Zukaang might exist would be very complicated...although I do have a solid idea for a fic that includes both ships (and it's not Zutaraang lol).

things done in fanfic that annoys me:

Not something that annoys me exactly, but a lot of fics seem to focus on Aang being there for Zuko's needs, and less so the other way around. And I get that, because Zuko is kind of a mess lmao. But Aang is human before he is anything else, and he has suffered both emotional isolation and unimaginable loss. Relationships aren't transactional, but I have a hard time seeing Aang in a romantic relationship with someone unless his own emotional needs are met as well - and I would love to see more of this in fic!

things I look for in fanfic:

I love fics that explore Aang and Zuko's connection in a way that pulls on the things that make Zukaang...Zukaang. I love their intensity, their tenderness, the history between them that stretches from the present and all the way back into the past one hundred years, how they can't stay away from each other even if they tried.

I also love fics that aren't afraid to explore the things that make their relationship complicated. What does it mean for the Avatar, the last airbender, to be in a relationship with the Fire Lord, the scion of the dynasty that committed the Air Nomad genocide and started a worldwide war? This would make for a lovely political and social mess, at the very least. And what about the fact that Zuko was indirectly involved in Aang's death in CoD and sent an assassin after him to make sure he stayed dead? There's so much to explore even with this point alone - how would the past haunt them while they're still figuring out their relationship? Or even when they've been together for years? (Btw I'm firmly in the camp that Zuko really was That Bad because his character needs that for his redemption and for the ATLA story to work.)

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

Aang with Katara; Zuko with Mai (or Jet, though it probably wouldn't last lol)

My happily ever after for them:

Hmmm...for those who know my taste in stories and fic, I am very ok with not having a happy ending and sometimes that's what I prefer. HOWEVER. My happy ending for Zukaang is that their relationship in the canon ATLA world would be complicated and they can't fully be together (because we're following canon here). But after they both die, they are reincarnated, and 1000 years later they find each other again - not as the Avatar and the Fire Lord, but as two people without such heavy expectations riding on their shoulders, who can freely share their lives together at last. (This is happy I guess? But sad before it gets happy? 😅)

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

They would take turns being the big spoon! I ship them when they're older, so Aang is a little taller and loves being the cuddler. Sometimes it's Zuko, especially when he just wants the reassurance of holding Aang in his arms 🥺

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

They would get into some silly shenanigans 😂 Like riding an air scooter together with their eyes covered or have dumb contests like "bet you can't do this without bending" lmaooo

send me an ask about a ship or character, or 5 characters you want me to rank!

[silvysartfulness]

so three questions in one, i would like to know your:

-xuexiao thoughts

-songxiao thoughts

-songxue thoughts

separated from songxuexiao

(if you would also like to provide your songxuexiao thoughts i would love to read that too i just wanna see specifically how you feel and think about each ship individually)

(+bonus: any a-qing ships you do or don't have, why/why not, and/or any sexuality/gender headcanons you might have for her)

Oh wow, that’s a very broad question! Let’s see what we can come up with…

XueXiao was my entry point to the SXX ship. I love their chemistry in CQL (much more than in MDZS) I love how – when all other variables were stripped away – they make each other happy. How they share the same silly, almost childish humour, and love to laugh and tease and joke together.

How Xiao Xingchen’s patience and gentle nature allows Xue Yang to experiment with being a kind of person he’s never been before – just a human being, a bit sharp around the edges, but no longer an attack-dog, a weapon or tool. Just a person, being given affection for free, just for being.

And how Xue Yang makes Xiao Xingchen happy, makes him laugh. He’s helpful – first, no doubt, because he’s learned to make himself useful to stay alive. But later just because he actually enjoys taking care of the people he likes. And Xiao Xingchen relishes in being loved and appreciated – and also getting to be just a human being. No legendary hero or world-saviour. But just a person, loved.

I also have a huge weak spot for the kind of hopeless obsessive devotion Xue Yang expresses after Xiao Xingchen’s death! That getting him back somehow matters more than anything, even his own life. That he never stops trying. That his final moments is remembering Xiao Xingchen’s kindness, smiling as he looks at the candy and finally lets go.

That’s a major reason why I started writing Heaven – to give them a second chance at realizing how much they did and do care about each other, how much the other cares. How much of that was real.

SongXiao is by far the weakest part of the triangle for me, personally. Not as in they’re not close, because they are, but because they don’t interest me much without Xue Yang there to spice things up. They have some issues, certainly, but on their own they’re just a bit too straight-laced and wholesome to be very interesting.

I do find Song Lan’s issues with touch clashing with Xiao Xingchen’s tactile nature interesting, and the Yearning can be good, too.

But still... Without Xue Yang there, I don’t connect much to these two on their own. I virtually never read fic for just the two of them (and not only because a lot of SongXiao fics sadly often spring fun surprise “fix-it”s that just boil down to “kill Xue Yang and everything’s fine!” on you without even warning for it.) They’re just a bit eh.

SongXue is delicious. It’s hurty and crunchy with a lot of fun chemistry to poke at. They both start from a place of loathing everything the other is, and then take a fascinating further detour through destroying the most precious things the other has. For that to turn into any kind of working relationship… It takes a lot of work. And that work, the dealing with and overcoming past trauma, forced cooperation, realizing the things they have in common, the world’s most grudging respect and appreciation slowly growing between them... That’s my catnip. I love it. I’m not interested in canon divergent stories where they just rush past all that to forgiveness and love. I want to see the work.

When I first started writing Heaven, my outlook was to fit in some angry hatesex at best, and really struggled with imagining a way for them to actually grow to love each other. And it did take a lot of work! Some 350k of it! And a lot of hurt, and compromise, and dogged determination from the both of them! But now they’ve finally gotten there and it feels solid. It feels earned.

No forgiveness for the unforgivable hurt of the past, but an unspoken mutual agreement to look to the future. Love that for them.

Finally, the SongXueXiao triangle as a whole – I love how well they all balance each other when together.

Xiao Xingchen can be overly idealistic, but paired with Song Lan’s pragmatism it turns into more concrete things to actually do, and Xue Yang’s irreverent habit of pointing out the weakest links in their reasoning to tear down their arguments also identifies what really needs working on… It’s a good way of making progress!

I like how Song Lan’s stubborn patience and stern sense of justice can temper Xue Yang’s worst and most violent impulses, and how Xue Yang can push Song Lan out of his comfort zone and force him to consider greyscales and not just neat blacks and whites.

I love how Xue Yang grows when he’s feeling loved, and how much he loves taking care of his loved ones, though he wouldn’t realize himself that that’s what he’s actually doing. He just likes pampering them, when given the chance! It does piss him off to no end, sometimes, the way they try to "change" him and "hold him back" - but once he’s calmed down a bit, he can usually see when it’s merited and for his own good, and even when not… the compromises are an acceptable trade-off to get to have the good parts of the relationship.

They’re good for each other, a mix of supporting the best in each other, and helping temper and guide their weaknesses into better habits and more nuanced understanding.

This is a set, do not separate. ♥

As for a-Qing… I love her as a character! Especially her weird aggro-sibling relationship with Xue Yang. But I don’t have any very strong feelings about her aside from that – I’ll happily read fics where she stays single all her life, or ends up in a happily married polycule, or settles down with husband and kids, or dates around as she pleases. She can be ace or lesbian or pan or anything. You do you, Queen!

In Deep Blue Sea, she had a friends with benefits situationship with Wen Qing. In Under The Wheel it wasn’t stated outright, but the way she kept wandering with the other three, she never settled down with any one partner, but had the occasional flings and a number of more or less casual bedmates along the journey.

The only real notp I’d have for her would probably be Xiao Xingchen or Song Lan, who are more gege/parent-coded to her in my mind. If, in some version of events, she would be interested in exploring sex with the mysterious (canonically designated handsome) stranger who lived with them in Yi City, though? Sure, why not. I don’t know if Xue Yang would go for it, and it’s not a ship I would seek out, but that I can imagine enjoying if handled just right.

Other than that, as I said, pretty much anything goes. She’s not a character I would seek out fic for, but I very much like her as part of the whole Yi City mess. She should get to have fun and get good things! She certainly deserves it every bit as much as the other three disasters.

[twothpaste]

Paula for the ask game, if you'd like!

First impression:

wow they sure made the girl character a pink little damsel (despite her badass powers) and called it a day huh. ok

Impression now:

wow i can take the girl character and develop whatever i want about her and -- oh shit - oops - haha whoops - now she's my favorite

Favorite moment: Every time she uses PK Freeze. But really, I'm very sentimental about the brief period between Twoson and Threed where it's just Ness and Paula traveling together. Paula makes a friend she can be herself with. Ness makes a friend after braving the big scary world all by himself. They're probably a little awkward and uncertain of each other at first, but they quickly come to admire each others' strengths!! Combat feels so fresh and exciting once you finally have a party member! They both have to learn to work together with a fellow PSI user, and it's really sweet.

Idea for a story: I don't really have more Paula stories on the brain rn. Whatever I do next with Intermission AU though, I wanna develop her friendship with Claus some more… They're both book-smart and snarky, he's one of very few people who can keep up with her wit. She only knows the half of what he's been through, but she looks out for him on the downlow. Especially in light of his bad experiences with Porky (Paula helped Ness through his fallout with Porky too, she's kind of in a unique position to provide some levelheaded advice & support). And they've both got unresolved anger with their family members. Their playfully pretentious nerd banter might easily give way to some heartfelt & heavy discussions. I feel like one of these days I could cook up somethin interesting. Intermission Senior Year arc where Paula finally stands up to her megalomaniac mom, while Claus cheers from the sidewalk like "yeah paula, you tell her!! yolo, dude! i got your back!"

Unpopular opinion: A lot of fan content I see & read will either sideline her or just, not flesh her out very much beyond Yeah She Sure Is The Girl. :( Itoi left the EarthBound party members relatively underdeveloped on purpose, hoping players would fill in the blanks to their hearts' content. Paula can be anything or anyone, and can have really interesting dynamics with her other party members! I just think her potential is often underutilized.

Favorite relationship: She's Ness' best friend!! A smart pretty popular girl befriends a little fat boy with average grades n' no connections beyond his hometown! And against all expectations, it turns out they get along brilliantly! He helps her loosen up & let go of her perfectionism, she helps him overcome his insecurities & become a more confident person! Ness really really needed someone to trust as his friendship with Porky crumbled, and Paula was right there the whole time. I think they have lots of silly goofy fun together - they'll dance and do karaoke and take joke photos at national monuments. I have a funny little headcanon that they tried dating in high school, quickly realized they like just being friends much better, and went on as if nothing happened. And another, that they teach each other their PSI techniques. Healing doesn't come naturally to Paula, and offense doesn't come naturally to Ness, but they're patient and perseverant and they figure it out over time.

Favorite headcanon: My girl Paula is academia pilled to comedic degrees. She's obsessed with Virginia Woolf. She feels a spiritual kinship with The Queen's Gambit. She daydreams about being a college professor. When she watches movies she calls them "films," and you'd better believe she's taking notes.

[karinarro]

Hey hey, I saw your tweets about mgs fans who have proship DNI in their profiles being absolute morons and hypocrites and I just want to say THANK YOU because I feel like I’m losing brain cells over having to wade through so much bullshit in the metal gear fandom of all things. We might have a different focus on what blorbos we have (I’m more on the mgr side of the fandom but love the entire franchise) but I just wanted to send a big 🤝🤝🤝🤝🤝 because booooy does it feel lonely here sometimes.

It’s especially funny because when you think about it, the biggest proshipper in the metal gear fandom would be Kojima himself. Idk how people get into mgs and have never looked up the big words they put in their mouths even once. Like how can someone live like that, getting into a series that is supposed to make you THINK about what happens and how it’s a reflection of real world issues, and then turn around and parrot some right wing rhetorics repackaged as fandom “activism” 24/7, inherently contradicting that you even understood what these games were about despite claiming so otherwise.

It’s so… brainless and boring and as someone who loves to discuss the complexity of this franchise (and things in general), I am glad to come across a likeminded person in this fandom.

Like man I felt like I’m getting to old for this, I got into mgs before anti ship as we have it now was even a thing in the internet. But seeing that you’re about a decade younger than me and get that all of this stuff is horseshit, I feel like I am not losing hope 😅😅

I hope you’re having a great day :]

Also I love your art 🫶

Hey there!! Thanks so much for the kind message, I mean it 🥹🫶 I love MGR too!! I was so obsessed w it as a kid. I had my Raiden phase too~ (Still kinda am! That game awakened my love of mecha.) This is my first time dipping my toes into the MGS fandom. Coming from someone who usually lurks in smaller fan spaces, and said fan spaces are largely pro-fic, I really didn't expect the onslaught of antis interacting w my art hahaha! I was ripping my hair out vetting new followers that came into my twitter. Metal gear is a game filled with so much political commentary, I think I expected... more critical thinking y'know? The fans you mentioned are probably just as bad as the fanboys who think whatever went between BB and ocelot is just a 'russian taunt' I agree w/ what you said Kojima being profic LOL The man hated to have his life's work censored. To him, games aren't only a medium for his stories, but it's also a way to express his opinions & ideas. MGS in particular, it's about war. How war affects regular people, the devastation it brings them. How the fuckheads behind it are orchestrating it, taking advantage of the military industrial complex (To quote Kaz, "And war will become a business...") I'm again reminded of that analysis you rb'd from me: "Peace is only possible in the case of war criminals when they’ve been buried." I can't fathom how so many people missed that message in MGSV. As you said, it seems like people are fucking blind to the fact that their faves are bad people. They are war criminals! Some people in fandom acting like they are above it all, saying 'proshitter dni' and repeating fascist talking points is just so... I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Because you are either that dense, or media illiterate or emotionally unintelligent or... something ! Most that I've seen so far who do this are teenagers, which okay. They are still figuring things out, I can excuse them a little bit. But there are adults over 20 who do this too and I'm just... wow. You know? To stand for Antis is to stand for censorship in fiction. And that goes against everything that Kojima believes. Haha dw there are people my age who aren't this stupid! I've been hanging out in more profic spaces and they're out there. You're not alone friend!! I hope you have a nice day too :] Lmk if you wanna be mutuals on twitter! 🌻