#writers block bit my ass four times while i wrote this

[julysn]

what’s your eta? || 04: like a baby

ship: kyle broflovski x fem! reader

synopsis: Chaos ensues.

wc: 3800 something

high school au, canon divergence (based off of doubling down / season 21 episode 7), y/n is not heidi turner, slightly ooc

read on ao3 | prev | masterlist | playlist

a/n: sorry the intro is real butt half of it was written back in september 2023 and i honestly didn’t know what to do w the paragraphs LMFAOO theyll gget better i promise

Morning had finally arrived, and you were awoken by the sun’s rays gleaming through the blinds of your bedroom window, casting a warm, golden hue on your walls and floor. The sound of the harmonious chirping of the birds outside filled your ears, their melodies embracing the beauty of the sunrise. As you sat up and stretched, you couldn't help but appreciate this brief moment of serenity before the chaos of the day began.

What day is it? You threw a glance to your alarm clock, seeing “Monday” written on the LED screen, Fuck. Time for school. You sighed, rolling out of bed as the cold floor greeted your senses.

You stepped over to your closet, pulling out a set of clothes. Your fingers moved on autopilot as you picked out your outfit. You wanted an outfit that was cute, nothing like what middle school boys would wear, like red shorts and a neon-green shirt. After a few minutes of browsing your closet like a retail store, you pulled out a comfortable pair of sweats and a hoodie that would protect you from the chilly weather.

You let out a deep sigh, walked out of your bedroom, and quietly stepped into the hall. Once you had reached your bathroom, you applied some toothpaste to your toothbrush and began brushing your teeth while looking down at your phone and replying to several texts from your friends and classmates. Some had asked for help on assignments, while others were just texting about the latest pieces of drama.

As you began to get ready for school, you felt yourself becoming more awake and alert with each passing second. Time seemed to quicken as you slipped on your clothes and slowly, yet sleepily, stepped down the staircase and over to the kitchen. Your two siblings sat at the kitchen island, one finishing some homework and the other just sipping on a cup of iced coffee.

“You haven’t finished?” You asked, stifling a yawn as you walked over to the pantry and picked out a box of cereal. Dallas looked up from his work, giving you a nod as he scribbled away on a sheet of paper.

“Algebra’s hard. Mr. Wyland keeps giving us homework.” He sighed, leaning forward and placing his fingers up to his temple. He stared down at the many scribbles of work that he had left on the sheet of homework, the look in his eyes full of misery.

You poured some cereal into a glass bowl, pulling a drawer and picking up a spoon. Soleil looked up from her phone, taking a sip of her coffee as she tilts her head and watches as Dallas buried his head in his hands.

“Algebra isn’t that hard. You just have to pay attention.” She shrugged nonchalantly, pausing to take yet another sip of her coffee before continuing. “Need help?”

“Yes, please!” Dallas answered almost immediately, head jolting upwards from his palms, his eyes pleading for the assistance of someone who was more capable than he was. You chuckled as you began to eat out of your cereal bowl, watching as Soleil began to help Dallas.

You sat down at the kitchen island with your cereal, sitting away from your two siblings so as to not accidentally spill the contents of your bowl onto Dallas’ algebra homework. He’d be pissed. Despite the early hour and the grogginess that clung to you and your expression, the presence of your siblings and the familiar morning chatter made you feel a bit less exhausted.

…?

You and your friends stood before your locker, just relaxing and talking before class started. The hallway was a bit crowded, but not unbearable as it was still possible to get by — the hallway traffic seemed calmer this time around. Although your school was bigger than the average small town high school, it was nothing compared to the schools in Dallas that you had seen on social media.

Your eyes squint lightly as you look at your reflection through the small mirror on Bebe’s locker door, checking for any flaws in your appearance. You ran a hand through your tousled hair and sighed, brushing off some hints of lint from your pants, wanting to be as presentable as possible–you didn’t want to look like the school air had clearly gotten to you.

Standing to your right was one of your best friends, Bebe, who was talking about random pieces of drama. Her long, perfect golden curls cascaded down to her shoulders beautifully, complementing her bright eyes. She wore a denim miniskirt with a pink, rhinestone-adorned belt, her pink crop top enhancing her appearance.

To your left was one of your other best friends, Wendy, who was listening and discussing the drama with Bebe. She had a softer appearance compared to Bebe, her gentle eyes making her look angelic. A pink beret sat atop her black, tousled hair, while she wore a casual tank top and flared jeans. Her outfit was simple, yet she pulled it off effortlessly, no traces of makeup on her face except for lip gloss.

Almost zoned out, you were pulled back into reality as Bebe spoke up, tilting her head. “Have any of you seen Nichole?”

You looked over from the mirror to Wendy, your eyes meeting as you shared a glance before the two of you shook your heads.

“I think she rides with Tolkien.” Wendy adds, shrugging as both of you broke eye contact and she went back to looking through her locker, grabbing the books she needed for class and stuffing them into her backpack. You envied her locker, it was so organized and clean, while yours was a complete mess.

“Yeah, they’re in another situationship.” You just shrug as well, opening up your own locker and looking helplessly as you scrimmaged through. After a mere 20 seconds, you finally found the appropriate books and papers you needed for the class you had to rush off to, stuffing them into your backpack and stifling a yawn as you turned back to your two friends. Tolkien and Nichole were in a “situationship”, or, in other terms, they had a weird friends-with-benefits thing going on. They’d go on dates, have sex, like what couples usually do, but weren’t a couple. It was weird.

“When is she getting here?!” Bebe complained, quickly slipping her phone out of her purse as she began typing, her eyes darting down to her phone occasionally as she continued to inspect her visuals through the mirror placed on her locker door. She was a swift typer, even with her nails, and you couldn’t help but be impressed.

After a good thirty seconds of peaceful silence, or, rather, silence between the three of you, Bebe perked up with a response as her phone vibrated in her hand and she glanced down at it. “She says she’ll be here in 5.”

“Damn. Did you ask if she’s riding with him?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you shut your locker and tossed your backpack over your shoulder, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“It’s pretty obvious that she is.” Wendy chimes in, letting out a soft giggle as she pulled her beret off and stored it in her locker. “We don’t have to ask.”

As the three of you all collectively giggled, you suddenly heard a loud, booming voice at the end of the hallway, snapping everyone out of their thoughts.

“Kyle!”

Everyone’s heads immediately span, turning to the source of the loud, booming voice. It was none other than the one and only, your ex-boyfriend, the one who terrorizes SPHS with his mere presence, Eric Cartman.

This is about me. There’s no way it’s not. You sighed awkwardly, ready to watch the two of them fight over you. Ever since you had been dating Eric, your social status had boosted, but ever since the breakup, you were more popular than ever. Some might say it was more impactful than Watergate, but you digress.

Your hands immediately searched your pockets for your phone, just in case a real fight was about to happen. Holy shit. After a few seconds of rummaging, you quickly pulled it out and kept your camera app ready, just in case. A few other students were recording already, not even waiting for any punches or hits.

“Oh, I should’ve known. You lying snake!” Eric growled, walking stomping down in anger. Each and every step caused a loud rumble, and you weren’t sure if it was the weak school floors, if he was really mad, or if he was just fat. The hallway instantly fell silent, before hushed whispers began. You and your two other friends stood there in shock, barely able to process what was truly going on.

Kyle grimaced, biting his lip anxiously as he slammed his locker shut and turned his head to face Eric. “.. Cartman, I didn’t mean for things to happen the way they did-“

“Did it bother you that I was happy?!” Eric seethed, gritting his teeth as he walked down the hallway, one hand balled up into a fist. “You think you can just walk in and ruin everything I made for myself? You’re wrong!”

“Cartman, you weren’t happy.” The ginger sighed, crossing his arms as he watched Eric approach angrily.

“He’s gonna crack the floor if he keeps moving like that.” Bebe whispers to you and Wendy, a little too loudly, resulting in scattered giggles from across the hallway and a short-lived glare from Eric. He threw his hands up, flipping her off before walking up to Kyle, attempting to enter his personal space to intimidate him yet failing.

“Shut up, Kahl! I was happy!” Eric growls once more, cracking his knuckles. You sighed, rolling your eyes. He wasn't happy, and it took you a while to notice that. He was everything but happy whenever he spent time with you.

“All you did was bitch about Y/N all the time-“ Yet again, Eric interrupts anything Kyle wanted to say.

“You’re not gonna talk your way outta this one! This is the end, Kyle! It’s you or me.”

“… Cartman, I-“ Kyle gets interrupted again, with Eric slamming him against the lockers. He winced, grimacing uncomfortably.

Eric ignores his discomfort and annoyance, shooting a glare at Kyle that was so angry, you could barely decipher anything in his eyes other than pure rage. “You took everything from me! Everything!”

You were not Eric’s everything, that’s for sure. Maybe in an alternate universe. His everything was most likely his food.

“Stop it.” Kyle narrows his eyes, pushing Eric away only for him to slam him against the lockers once more. You wondered if a fight was gonna happen, and who’d throw the first punch. Would it be Kyle? Or Eric? Or maybe they’d start fighting at the same time? You scooted yourself to the front, trying and succeeding in getting the best angle as people stepped out of the way to let you through. You felt like a celebrity.

You held your phone securely in your hand, watching quietly. It seemed as if the two boys were unaware that you were watching the altercation. The crowded hallway seemed to only get denser and denser once people began to circle around the scene unfolding before them, intrigued. Curiosity flowed through the air as students from all walks of life united and created a circle, one that had formed just to witness the true strength of the two men in-front of their eyes.

Not much could be heard besides for the chatter and whispers of the many on-lookers, while the two boys bickered and spoke over each other.

It felt weird to see this unfold just before your eyes—two people fighting about you, hell, over you. But this was very entertaining.

“All you’ve ever done is work to ruin my life! Well, now you’re gonna pay the price!” Eric snarled, his voice deep and raspy unlike how he’d usually be a bit more whiny and irritating. Instead of his voice being annoying, his voice was annoyed.

“Fuck him up!” A voice from inside the crowd rang out.

Immediately, after that indirect encouragement, Eric steps forward and screeches, ready to punch Kyle when he himself gets hit first, the ginger dodging and throwing the first hit. As Eric falls to the floor, his cheek bruised, he growls and stands up, cracking his knuckles threateningly.

“I’m surprised he didn’t crack the floor.” Wendy comments absentmindedly, one hand adjusting her hair subconsciously and the other hand gripping her phone. You and a few others giggle, and luckily, Eric didn’t hear the remark.

“Fuck you, Kahl!” Eric hisses, attempting to throw another punch yet missing as Kyle dodged and slipped out of the way. He was slim and athletic, unlike Eric, giving him a higher chance of winning the fight as he used his agility to his advantage.

“She’s moved on! Stop it!” Kyle seethed, his anger evident as the two boys began to fight and brawl in the middle of the hallway. You watched with both excitement and anxiousness as punches and hits were thrown, chaos ensuing within the confines of the high school hallway.

And for once, you felt special, even during the midst of everything.

…?

The sun stood up in the sky, beaming down through the windows of South Park High. The winds outside were as chilly as ever, but nothing unexpected for a small town in the mountains of Colorado.

A light blanket of snow covers the buildings and ground, slowly melting as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky, the sunlight wiping away the trances of snowfall from the previous evening. The clouds had parted to let the star shine through, scattering out into the sky like drops of paint on a canvas.

Kyle sits in the driver’s seat of his car, one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding a cup of hot coffee from Tweek Bros. It was a peaceful morning, nothing much to bother him except for his very annoying brother, little Ike.

He brushes his irritation away, letting a soft smile grace his lips as the music floated from the speakers and through the car. It was a good morning, and nothing could change that.

Monday, you can hold your head Tuesday, Wednesday, stay in bed Or Thursday, watch the walls instead It's Friday, I'm in love

The drive was short yet soothing, relaxing his nerves. Maybe it was just the fact that he was alone for a brief moment, or that driving was truly relaxing, but it was one of Kyle’s favorite parts of the day.

Kyle reached the parking lot of South Park High, parking his car and getting out as the aggressively cold breeze hit his face. His steps were light and quick, wanting to escape the cold he was so used to and go inside.

He walked, running a hand through his curls and fluffing them up to give his hair some volume. Ever since he had stopped wearing his hat, Cartman had begun to tease him more for being a ginger, but he didn’t care. He was used to the other boy’s remarks by now.

Stepping into the lobby of his high school, Kyle heaved a sigh and brushed off some lint from his jeans as he made his way through the hallways and over to his locker.

He turned the padlock to the right, to the left, again to the left, and lastly to the right, before finally pulling it open. His locker was simplistic and slightly plain, with a picture of him and his family on the door, a few stickers and a post-it note reminding him to study for some quizzes and exams.

Kyle’s eyes shuffled through his locker, looking for the appropriate supplies he needed for his first class. He sighed, grabbing a few pencils and stuffing them in a pocket of his backpack.

He pulled his phone camera out and looked through his appearance, making sure there wasn’t anything weird on his face before quickly shoving it back into his pocket, when suddenly, a loud, booming voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Kyle!”

He whipped his head around, his eyes meeting the flame within Cartman’s own, Holy shit.

Kyle’s eyes widen immediately as everyone in the hallway looks back from him to Cartman, looking between him and Cartman, glancing over from him to Cartman. The unfiltered, unadulterated, untainted rage in his eyes was absolutely terrifying.

Kyle was stronger than him. He knew that. Everyone knew that. But the look in his eyes, the anger, it almost sent a shiver down his spine. He watched anxiously as Cartman moved towards him, a loud stomp, stomp, stomp echoing down the walls and hitting his ears.

“Oh, I should’ve known. You lying snake!” Cartman’s snarl echoed down the hallways, intriguing the ones who weren't already paying attention to the chaos. Everyone’s attention was locked onto the two boys, eager to see the chaos unfold.

Kyle took a deep breath, glancing around to see a few people with their phones out. He couldn’t embarrass himself. This could easily spread around the school, and even worse, get over to North Park. If he lost the fight, which, there was a pretty low chance of that happening, but with Cartman’s sudden interest in wrestling, there was a possibility..

He would never live it down.

“Cartman, I didn’t mean for things to happen the way they did—” Kyle’s desperate attempt to diffuse the situation and restore peace was interrupted. Of course, he knew that there could be no peace with Cartman, so why even try?

“Did it bother you that I was happy?!” Cartman seethed, his voice deeper and raspier than usual. “You think you can just walk in and ruin everything I made for myself? You’re wrong!”

Anger, anger, anger. It boiled in Cartman’s veins like a kettle on a stove. He needed to let this out, to let out all of the feelings that he had built up over the weekend, and it was finally time to do it. To inflict violence on the one who caused this. It was going to be quite therapeutic, really. He needed to hit Kyle at least once, to ease his emotions and invoke gratification.

“Cartman, you weren’t happy.” Kyle sighs, rolling his eyes at the obvious lie as annoyance grew within him. His irritation built up, the building bricks stacking onto each other from head to toe.

“Shut up, Kahl! I was happy!” Cartman snarled, his frown deepening as he cracked his knuckles, invading his personal space.

He wasn’t. Kyle knew he wasn’t. From the way Cartman’s mood dampened whenever he was around Y/N, to him complaining about each and every thing Y/N did when she wasn’t around. Cartman never expressed happiness around her, it was only disdain and irritation.

The two boys quickly forgot about the fact that Y/N was right there, watching their argument, watching the way she was indirectly mentioned, watching the way that her decisions and existence alone had indirectly caused this argument to go down.

“All you did was bitch about Y/N all the time–!” Kyle argued, his annoyance beginning to show as his voice deepened in aggression. His breathing got heavier, heavier, heavier, anger slipping into his body language as his eyes narrowed.

“You’re not gonna talk your way outta this one! This is the end, Kyle! It’s you or me.”

“Cartman, I–” Not letting Kyle speak, Cartman steps forward and slams him against the lockers, wrapping his trembling fingers around the other boy’s jacket. He wasn’t shaking in fear, rather, pure rage. Pure, unfiltered rage.

His eyes narrow dangerously, little slits instead of seeing his irises. “You took everything from me! Everything!”

Kyle rolls his eyes, sneaking a glance over at Y/N before looking back at Cartman. He knew damn well that Y/N was not Eric Theodore Cartman’s everything. Food probably was.

The crowd only seemed to grow in size, any school faculty somehow not coming to investigate or deescalate. Phones were tilted and angled at the two, everyone wanting to get the perfect video of what was to happen. Even Y/N herself stood there, her hands tightly gripping her phone as she watched in slight disbelief and intrigue.

“Stop it.” Kyle hissed, shoving Cartman away only for him to slam him back into the lockers again, the noise echoing down the hallways.

“All you’ve ever done is work to ruin my life! Well, now you’re gonna pay the price!”

“Fuck him up!” A voice from inside the crowd yelled, encouraging Cartman as he stepped forward, raising his arm and throwing his fist at Kyle, only for the redhead to quickly punch him first, causing Cartman to fall to the floor with a loud thud.

Kyle looked down at Cartman on the floor, the two of them panting for breath as pearls of sweat began to form on their hairlines. He breathed heavily, eyes widened as the pain of the punch began to register and the bruise on his cheek was starting to grow.

A few seconds of silence.

Then, he slowly stands up, getting off of the floor and growls, almost trembling from pure hatred. Cartman takes a big deep breath, cracking his knuckles in a desperate attempt to be intimidating, letting out a loud screech roar. “Fuck you, Kahl!”

He attempts to punch Kyle again, his fist slamming into the locker instead as the other boy effortlessly dodges the attack. The crowd began to spread out a bit, leaving room for the two of them to fight as phones all pointed towards the chaos.

“She’s moved on! Stop it!” Kyle seethed, adrenaline pumping through his body as Cartman wrapped one arm around his neck, cracking his knuckles yet again and slamming his fist into the redhead’s cheek.

The strength was enough to break some teeth, but luckily, it didn’t, and before he could strike again, Kyle slipped out of his grasp and slammed him against the lockers, a loud bam echoing throughout the hallway as he punched him.

After a good minute or so of fighting, suddenly, Kyle stops, pulling back as sweat dots his forehead. He’s panting, out of breath, face slightly bruised and the adrenaline rush coming to a stop as he drops Cartman and lets him fall to the floor, ending the fight, ending the chaos.

“You’re an asshole, Cartman.”

kyle’s pov was meant to be the fifth chapter, scrapped it though so… also. never written a fight scene. sorry it was mid.

lemme tell you. i had NO fucking idea how to wrap up the chapter i was stuck bro

[crown-anon]

@hearts1ck my beloved

November 1st

CW: explicit; more CWs under the cut

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; reader has male anatomy; more specifics under the cut

edited 14 March 2021

anonymous asked

consider. okay. CONSIDER. consider masochist george. okay?? okay. okay LISTEN.

I think I have a problem with gimmicks also. because. because. ever since strawberry milk george, I. I have not stopped thinking about strawberry flavored lube. because! listen okay hear me out.

(this is absolutely 110% a response to discovering that you share a birthday with him. what of it?)

I know everyone likes pillow princess george and. that's okay. that's FINE. these are not mutually exclusive.

george looking up at you with The LookTM wearing some pink strawberry milk lingerie. not even lingerie really! just something cute like that

& him being like. "I know you love me 👉👈 but I need you to fuck me like you don't"

so I was. thinking. that brat george is the exact kind of person to say (playfully & consensually) "but I don't wanna give you head, I just wanna fuck >:(" after you've got him worked up, maybe from teasing him throughout the day, or edging him a little. but you still need some type of lube. so you go to apply the first bottle you see and he's pink when he asks you "😳 is that ... strawberry ... ?" and you're confused like ??? bro you just asked me to fuck you into next week why're you interested in the flavored lube

but. but listen. he would get so enthusiastic about it. at first it's just "maybe I can stand to eat them out just a little bit before ..." and then after you come the first time it devolves really, really quickly into the need to just. take care of you. and it stretches on until you've come three or four times, and you're still shaking, and he's just. completely gone in subspace

hmm ... george climbing up onto your lap when he's done with you, going in to give you a kiss, and he tastes like strawberry. and he ends up moaning right into your mouth because he's been so horny but so? understimulated?? that he outright jumps as soon as his dick grazes your thigh. it would only take a couple stuttery grinds before he's finishing on both of your stomachs

and he's just so cute when comes, or when he bites down on your shoulder to keep himself quiet. and it's your birthdays. so, you decide you'll give him a reason to cry. and he'll finally get put in his place! it's a win-win for both of you!!

istg every time I send you an ask I discover something new about myself. you. you have made a dreamteam simp out of me. I am but a shell of the man I once was. I think I should thank you? [👑]

hearts1ck

i say this nearly every time you send stuff in but...... by god you own my soul. all of it. this – i – first of all, the implications of masochist george losing his fucking mind when you’re rough with him? guhhhfjklgjgf. and ,..d,,f,,, ,, ,, george in pink lingerie. i. i . a... pink satin slip maybe or .... ohghfd; oh my god those. that cat panty/bra set. im ascending im losing my brain as i type this i cannot –

okay im back on earth. he’d get into that rhythm and settle like liquid while he gets to work on you, and his subspace face is so self-satisfied and nearly smug so he’s just having the time of his life,,, and he makes such a loud noise when his dick twitches against your thigh and maybe... JUST MAYBE he whimpers extra watery when you drag his hips to grind against where you’re wet and dripping/your spent cock as if he’s the one who’d get overstimulated by it. when he finally leans away, eyelids heavy, you gently fit your hand over his jaw and ask, “did you even ask? it’s one thing to come without permission, but not even caring to ask? georgie, i might just be offended,” and he whines “green”s against your neck before you even check-in

and because u made it abt both of our birthdays ,,,, spanks for each year we’ve been alive methinks ??? and then the scratch down his ass gets him hard again and he’s so embarrassed by it, ,,, , ,, ,, ,, ,, ,

also thank god you’ve joined the george boat. i’m so proud of myself for hopefully being part of the reason you got dragged over here HJFKDHSKD

#👑 anon #(my beloved) #keep #anon thoughts: george #redsick #SHAWTY WANT THE WHOLE CREW SHAWTY BAD

as soon as you said birthday spanks I decided I had to write more about this. and I was going to leave more snippets in your askbox like the fucking gremlin creature I am, but then my thoughts started. actually having structure? and then I started writing it. and I tried to do homework and write on study breaks only but. I just kept coming back to this. this is the polar opposite of writer's block. I think I'm cursed or something. so here I am rushing to finish this so that I may rest in peace!!

yes I've been writing nonstop since I sent you that ask. what of it. what the fuck of it.

when I said I discover something new about myself every time we interact, I. I'm serious. I think I might be insane or something. I'm way too sadistic. you'll see. what the fuck is this? what the fuck did I just write??

this would have done so much critical psychic damage if I had posted it on November 1st in real life, but mental illness says I can't let my horny thoughts rattle around in my brain for that long. so!! it's you guys's problem now xoxoxo

I'm not fucking proofreading this. love you though 💗

I did end up proofreading actually. oops! looks like posting at 23:00 isn't always a good idea.

November 1st

CW: explicit, anal (kind of vague), bondage (collar + leash), corruption, domspace (I think??), edging, handjob, humiliation, masochism, oral, praise, sadism, spanking, subspace, swearing. I call George a whore and a slut at least once. and also, George calls yellow at one point. this one kind of surprised me so just. Be Careful. I cannot believe I wrote this. I don't know where this came from.

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; I use the word "sir;" reader has male anatomy; I use the words "cock," "dick," and "head;" reader can ejaculate

—

dawn shines through drawn curtains, illuminating the tile floor and your robed figure reflecting off it. batter sizzles in the skillet as you flip the last pancake over. this side looks golden brown, like honeycomb or caramelized sugar. that delicious, freshly-baked fragrance mingles with scented candles. it's perfect, you smile. he's going to love it.

you lift the pancake with a spatula, stacking it on top of the others on his plate. you bring it to his seat at the table, along with the butter, the syrup, the honey, the jam…and you go to pour him a drink.

"hey baby," you greet warmly to the sleepyhead rubbing his eyes in the entryway, still clinging to a pillow. his hair's a mess, only wearing socks and a sweatshirt that reaches down past his thighs. you reckon he'd only just crawled out of bed.

"morning…" he yawns, stumbling past you to take his seat.

"milk?" you ask, he only nods. "did you sleep okay?"

he hums affirmatively. "I…can we…"

one track mind, you joke inwardly. but you don't blame him. "of course," you open the fridge.

you hear him pause. "…is it too early for that?"

"no, no!" you give him a lighthearted laugh. "I kind of expected it, to be honest…I want it, too."

he's silent under the noise of you rummaging through the fridge. "I—"

"sorry—it looks like all we have is strawberry milk. is that alright?"

"yeah…yeah, that's alright. I…actually…wanted to try something new." you shut the fridge, he's fidgeting in his seat.

"hit me with it," your expression is gentle. you pass his cup off to him, but he holds his hand over yours a little too long, looking up at you.

"fuck me like you hate me."

you don't know if it's hearing him swear, or the way he said it so calmly, or how he closed his eyes and swallowed hard before his tone could dip down into something lower. but like a match in an torrent of gasoline, suddenly you're burning up.

you only realize you're staring when he bites his lip and looks down. you start to say something, but the words don't form.

he laughs nonthreateningly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "is that a yes?"

you laugh with him. "I…yes, absolutely yes." you turn back around to make your own stack of pancakes. "you should eat first, though."

"what?" he teases. "will I need the energy?"

you smile. "yeah. I think you will." you can practically feel him open his mouth in protest, but he stays silent after that.

and it stays mostly silent while you cook your pancakes. you hear the clinking of his fork on his plate, but it isn't very disruptive. it sounds like he's hurrying to finish his food.

when you go back to the table with your own platter, he's already done eating. he's red down to his neck, fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt, looking at you expectantly. you spot a pair of tassels peeking out from under it, just below his hip bones. is that…

he pulls the hem up just a bit, holding your gaze. he smiles, apparently satisfied watching your face heat up.

"I—you should go…go get ready," you manage. he gets up before you even finish your sentence, only stopping to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

except it isn't quick, when he slides his hand down to rest firmly on your collar, and leans in to trail kisses down your neck. "a-and leave that on," you stutter.

he pauses, just under your jaw. "leave what on?" he murmurs.

your breath catches, you shut your eyes. "whatever the fuck it is you're wearing under there."

he's hardly grazing your skin, but you can feel how hot he is next to you. it takes all of your willpower not to shiver.

he pulls back quickly, only his hand lingering. "I don't know what you're talking about." and just like that, he disappears into your bedroom.

you reach up a hand tentatively to your collar, hot to the touch. I'm in way too deep, you decide, and force yourself to take a bite of your food despite your nerves.

—

"that," you hiss. "that fucking outfit. that."

"oh, this?" he bites his lip, hooking his thumb in the keyhole. "this's just what I went to bed in last night."

"fuck you. we both know that isn't true."

he tugs gently on his top, pulling it a little to the side. "what's the big deal? can't I wear something special for my birthday?"

"it's special, all right," and you leave it at that, opting instead to slot between his legs where he sits waiting on the edge of the bed. you bring up a hand to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb across his cheek. you'll never get enough of the way he looks at you, like you're intoxicating.

…? you frown.

"is something…missing?" he perks up instantly at "missing."

"what…?" he chooses his words carefully.

"the collar—your collar. where is it?" you turn away to start going through your bedside table, but the way his lips quirk up into a sly smile isn't lost on you.

that's lube…that's a vibrator…where the fuck is it…? "w-what collar?" he stumbles over his words.

your mind jumps to say, the collar that came with that outfit, or I know you know what I'm talking about, but you won't give him the satisfaction. you decide to speak a little darker, only a firm "George." you hear him swallow.

"w-well," his voice is shaky, "you only told me to leave on whatever I was wearing under my shirt. and…I wasn't wearing that collar at breakfast…s-so technically…"

you stop looking immediately. you turn to take him in, legs crossed, stance confident, but expression showing uncertainty. you can see the regret on his face. "get up." he takes a shallow breath. "get up."

"I'm—"

"don't I'm sorry me," you snap. "you look for your fucking collar on your own."

he slips off the bed, looking ashamed, but starts digging through the drawer all the same. "I really am sorry," he murmurs. you take his place sitting on the bed. he finds what he's looking for rather quickly: a simple white leather collar with a bell, and a leash. he hands them off to you shyly. "um, here…"

"good boy," you praise. "kneel."

he shuts his eyes and does as he's told. you can see the bliss wash over his face just at being ordered around. his lips part a little as he lets out a heavy breath. if only I knew what this would do to him, you muse, I'd have done this ages ago.

you fasten the collar, revelling in how he shivers at the gentle sensation of cold leather hanging around his neck. you leave it a little bit loose, but still comfortable, and hook the leash in its place. he sits obediently still on his knees, looking deep in thought.

"Oh, I know what I'm gonna do to you," you bait. "how old are you today?"

"mmm. twenty-five." he looks down.

you smile, holding tight onto the leash. "I'm gonna edge you. twenty-five times."

he flinches away immediately, yet hums in pleasant surprise when the leash snaps taught. the bell jingles stiffly. "no way. that's way too much."

"I think you should've thought about that before you wore that to breakfast," you decide, tugging a little. he's caught off-guard and stumbles forward, stopping himself by leaving a clumsy pair of kisses on the inside of your thigh. the metal and leather feel refreshingly cool against your feverish skin. "we've got all day, baby."

you expect to hear some kind of protest, you're crazy. or a playful taunt, I'm better off doing this by myself. but he knits his brows and openly moans at the thought. "all day…" he repeats.

he looks up at you, almost pleading, and you can hear the resignation in his voice when he whispers "alright."

"get up here," you command. "on top of me." as he climbs up into your lap, a little too eagerly, you add, "and take your dick out."

you shrug your robe off your shoulders while he's working on his panties, and without thinking, you ask, "color?"

he stops, leaving his head poking cutely over the waistband. he looks up at you again. "…what?"

"um…color," you explain. "like, how are you doing? is this okay? I don't actually want to hurt you. uhhh…green means good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop."

he stifles a laugh. "you're such a nerd. I'm okay."

"alright." you blush a little. "we can stop whenever you need to. this is for you…" you think of something horribly unsexy to say. "…birthday boy."

now he's really laughing, with his whole body. you think the way it makes his collar jingle is cute. "oh my god. shut up. just shut up," his expression turns serious, and he drops to a whisper, "and fuck me."

that got you hot again. you pull him by the leash into a kiss, you bite his lip, you eat him up. and you grab the both of you together with your other hand, you moan in tandem. you can feel how you took him by surprise in the way he twitches under your thumb, the way he leans into you with his whole body. you part from the kiss and he leans back on his heels, panting hard, holding on to your shoulders for support. you can feel him shaking a little.

when you move your hand all the way up the first time, you squeeze both of your heads gently, and he practically falls into you. muffled in the crook of your neck, he begs, "god, do that again."

so you do. again. and again. what was a string of stuttered breaths turns into a single broken moan as you jerk the both of you off. when you think you're getting close, you let go of yourself to focus all your attention on him.

"fuck, sir," he whines—hahaha, that sir made your cock leak a little. he shut his eyes tight. "I-I-I think—I think I'm—"

just like that, you stop, and he goes slack, practically laying on you. but he doesn't grind back, or even move to touch himself. that won't last very long.

you let him come back down, knowing edging takes a lot out of you; maybe even more so than actually coming does. slowly but surely, his breathing steadies. you rub between his shoulderblades affectionately, still trying to ground yourself, too.

once you've found your voice again, you question, "are you gonna count for me?"

he makes a sound against your skin, somewhere between excitement and fear. "…o-one." you revel in how fucked-out he sounds already.

"one what?" you prod.

he seems at a loss, like he's forgotten himself, what he said. after a minute or two of pondering, he catches on. "…sir."

it's your turn to moan. your dick jumps at the honorific, still mostly untouched against your stomach. "good boy." and you dive back in. twenty-four to go.

—

it's noon. you're working on nineteen. and your partner's getting much more…expressive. he's started biting his hand to keep himself quiet, but he's still…

"I-I—oh fuck, I'm—fuck, I-I'm—I'm—" he whimpers through his teeth. and he yelps, whole body shaking, bell jingling incessantly, when he comes all over your hand and stomach.

you take your hand off him immediately, and this time he does try to reach down, ride through it, but you grab both his wrists to stop him. he grinds down uselessly against your thigh and your dick. although you're still hard, and only a hairline trigger away from coming yourself, it doesn't stop you from keeping this brat in line. you only bite your lip and close your eyes.

he leans his forehead against yours, moving in to give you a kiss, but you push him away.

"did you never learn how to fucking count?" you growl.

he winces. "I-I-I-I'm…I'm sorry—"

you scowl at your hand, covered in come. "here, slut," you raise it up to his lips. "clean this off for me."

he tears up a little, but takes your fingers into his mouth all the same. pretty quickly, though, he spits them back out.

"it doesn't taste good…" he complains.

"oh? oh, it doesn't?" you mock. "but it felt good, when you came without my permission, like a cheap fucking whore."

a couple of tears spill over, roll down his cheeks, yet he says nothing, only moving back in to lap his come off your hand. you can see it in his expression that he's not very happy about it, but he doesn't protest further.

"is this good enough, sir?" he asks, when it seems that he's gotten it all. it looks clean enough, you agree. you grab him by the chin, hooking your thumb in his mouth. you don't even have to tell him to suck.

"you come without my approval again, and it's over. you can go back to playing minecraft—or what-the-fuck-ever—with your friends for your birthday. do you want to sleep on the couch, Georgie?"

if he wasn't crying before, he's definitely crying now. he doesn't shake his head, but he circles your fingertip with his tongue enthusiastically, as if to say, I'll be good, I'll be good this time, looking up at you doe-eyed.

"bend over for me," you demand. "across my lap."

he does so immediately. he slips a little bit while he's changing positions, you hear the bell ring, and he scrambles to correct himself. he settles with his ankles crossed and his head in his hands, propping himself up on his elbows. you feel a little bad, you admit, but you won't budge; he has a safeword, you trust that he'll use it.

"let's try that again," your tone softens. "I want you to count for me, okay?"

he nods.

you pull his panties to the side, pause briefly, and bring down your hand with a satisfying smack.

"ohhhhhh—" he moans, jolting a little. "—holy shit, did you just spank me?"

your stomach drops, you go to rub him gently where you just hit him. "is that okay—?"

"it's hot, it's so hot, fuck," he shifts in your lap. "um, sorry…one."

seriously, something about hearing him swear awakens something in you, every time. you're fired up. you spank him again.

"mmm—two…" is he…? "three…"

you pause to massage his ass again, and to speak. "you're…you're hard again, aren't you?"

you didn't even spank him yet, but he lets out a moan. "fuck, I—I just. I want you. I want this. so, so much."

you wonder if this is actually the same George who was fidgeting with his pillow in the dining room this morning.

"you're so bad, getting turned on by something like this," you tease. he only moans in response.

"four—five—six—seven…" he chokes out. "it's starting to sting…"

you take a break, kneading the skin where your angry red handprint is starting to take shape.

"eight…nine…but god, it hurts so good…" he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. "ten…"

at ten, you linger for a moment, holding a handful of his ass. "does it?"

"yes—yesyesyes," he buries his face in the pillow, and shivers. "fuck, eleven…twelve…"

you pull his panties down to his knees, and switch sides. he lifts his hips up, so I can reach him better, you guess. you don't miss the telltale glint of a butt plug, but you'll get to that later.

"thirteen—fourteen—fifteen—sixteen," he moans between slaps. he's gripping the pillowcase so hard his knuckles are white.

in this new position, the way he jumps with every hit makes his cock brush against yours just right. fuck, you're still hard from earlier. this time you're the one who whimpers.

"seventeen, eighteen," he pauses, breathless. you pull gently on his leash, he arches his back and moans, "n-nineteen." his bell jingles.

he grinds down, just for a moment, and the friction is delicious. you're a little dizzy, you think you might've thrust back. you both sigh at the feeling.

"…t-twenty…see? I-I can count…I'm a good boy…I'm good for you…aren't I?"

"you are," you murmur, but you aren't sure he hears you. "you're so good…"

"twenty-one—twenty-two…I-I feel like I haven't done anything right today…twenty-three…"

"…George…?" you hear a muffled sob.

"twenty-four…" he mumbles.

"George?" you start to get concerned. he just keeps crying. "hey…" you whisper. you gently prompt him to turn him over; the pillow's a little wet. you pull the panties off all the way, and get him out of the bra, which had a little stray come on it. you help him sit up in your lap, and pull him into a hug.

"am I really just a whore…?" he asks brokenly.

"you've been so good for me, baby. you've done everything I've asked." you wipe his tears away with your thumb. "are you okay?"

"but I—" he coughs. "—I came too soon, I came without your permission…"

you kiss his hair, and hold him to your chest. "you've been so patient. I'm proud of you."

he finally wraps his arms around you. "I-I'm sorry."

"nonsense," you reassure. "your comfort takes priority. are you okay? color?"

"I…" he searches for the words. "I dunno. yellow? I…that hurt, I think. being…degraded?"

you comb through his hair with your fingers. "I understand. thank you for telling me. I love you."

—

you stay like that for a minute. you grab him a snack and a drink, but for the most part, you just enjoy each other's company, tangled-up together. you don't bother putting your clothes back on.

it's later in the evening. you're straddling him, peppering his shoulders with kisses, and he's giggling underneath you. he turns over to give you a short and sweet kiss.

"baby?" he says, looking expectantly.

"what is it?" you sit back on your heels.

he hesitates. "…I wanna keep going. from earlier."

you're serious again. "are you sure you're okay?" you grab his hand, bringing it up to kiss his fingertips. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm alright," he assures. "I remember you promising me an all-day thing, though."

you blush, a little surprised by his forwardness. "of course. I think…I…" you laugh. "I wanna fuck you."

"yeah?" he smiles, leaning up close. "show me how much."

you hold his jaw while you kiss him, biting his bottom lip between your teeth. he tastes like the coffee and cream you made him earlier. you feel his breath hitch. he reaches up to hold your shoulders.

you pull back. "hey, blow me first."

"what? why?" he giggled.

"it's been a couple hours, I'm not hard anymore," you coax. "I thought you liked taking orders?"

he cringed. "but come tastes gross!"

you slid off him and hopped off the bed, opening the drawer. "suit yourself. you get to watch me jack off, then."

"fine by me, I think you look good when you masturbate."

"ohhh, I forget, you're too blissed-out to pay attention to how I look when you're getting fucking owned."

"I am not!"

"you are too!" he sticks his tongue out at you.

you open the lid, pouring a little on your hand, a little on your cock. it's translucent pink, seems a little fragrant. you give yourself a couple of strokes with a sigh.

he's quiet for a second, then, shyly, "um…is that…strawberry flavored…?"

you bite your lip. "I thought you weren't gonna give me head?"

"I was just curious." it's a weak lie, but you say nothing.

your eyes are shut, but you can feel him moving around a bit on the bed, you hear his bell ring a couple times. you feel a hand on your thigh, so you decide to peek. and holy shit.

your partner's made his way to the floor, on his knees between your legs, holding his leash in his mouth, his fucking mouth, what the fuck. his thumb's rubbing circles on the inside of your thigh. the half-lidded look he's giving you should be criminal.

"you—I thought you said you wouldn't…" you can't find the words. you reach out and take the leash from his mouth. you see your hand shake in front of you.

"I'm just watching…" he whispers, looking up at you, mesmerized.

you're only able to get a couple of pumps in before he's joining you, hand over yours as you get yourself off. just the extra sensation of somebody else's touch is enough to make you bite back a moan.

"fuck—!" you jolt when he licks a stripe up the underside. he mouths over the head, jerking you off on his own now. you move to grip the sheets in one hand, his leash in the other. and you come without warning. you see it end up on his hand and your stomach before you shut your eyes tight.

he's quiet while you're coming down, just helping you ride it out, giving you kisses on your thighs. when you look back down at him, he's got two of his fingertips in his mouth, licking them clean. he stands up abruptly, it startles you a little. you see his bell ring. and he grabs you by the hips and leans down to your midriff.

"…I don't think I cleaned you off all the way earlier…" he breathes, and he starts to lap up the mess of his and your come that's been on you since this afternoon.

what the fuck. why is this so hot? why is he so hot? all too soon, your spent cock twitches in interest at your lover. he cups it with a hand, smiling against your tummy. you're so sensitive it hurts. you think you mean to say something, but nothing comes out.

"hmm…?" he bites his lip. "you still want some more?" all you can do is whine. at this point, you don't know if it's in protest or invitation.

you don't get the chance to find out either, because fuck, he's really going down on you now. you don't know what the fuck he's doing with his tongue, or where his gag reflex went, but at this rate you're gonna come again.

"George—George, baby, I—slow down, I-I'm—" you plead. his leash slips out of your hand, you tip your head back.

he swallows.

—

the last thing you remember is coming harder than you ever have in your life. you think you held him by his hair. you might've fucked his mouth a little. he's never let you come in his mouth before…fuck…

it's nighttime now. he's riding your thigh, got one of his legs slotted between yours. the friction between his knee and your overstimulated cock feels embarrassingly good. you're so dizzy, all you can articulate is a loud moan. you don't sound at all like you remember. his bell keeps ringing and ringing and ringing as he grinds against you.

he leans down, one arm holding your hip, the other keeping himself propped up. he bites your shoulder, hard, hard enough to bruise. he comes on both of your stomachs.

"George," you beg. you're losing your voice.

"mmmmmmsir," he slurs. "fuck me."

"George, I…" you don't know what you're saying. the end of your sentence turns into a whimper.

"you need me to get you hard again? you need me to rile you up?" he turns to kiss your jaw, feeling around for your dick. "like this?"

"George," you sound urgent, until he squeezes right around the head, and you forget what you were saying. you're pretty fucking close to forgetting who you are entirely.

he sits up on top of you, grinning. "love the way you say my name, sir."

that name. all it takes is the way he says that fucking name and you're ready to go again. you flip the two of you over, so that you're towering over him instead. "you still didn't. fucking. ask me. if you could come."

he giggles, a little crazed. he hooks his arms around his knees, hugging them to his chest.. "so what? so what? you gonna fuck me 'till I behave?"

"yes," you reach down, "I think I will." and you pull out the butt plug he (probably forgot he) had in all day.

"fuck—" he sobs. you watch his dick bob. precome drips into a pool on his stomach. "—green—green—so fucking green."

you're still sensitive from coming twice—you're pretty sure he is too. you lean down to give him a kiss, you moan into each other's mouths. he tastes like strawberries and his and your come. it is a little gross, you admit. but he's so tight and so fucking cute that you can't bring yourself to care. you part, and there's a line of salvia connecting the two of you.

"wait—" you say, but it comes out like a growl. "roll over."

he gets on his hands and knees, reaching back and spreading himself open for you. fuck.

you fuck him like that, holding the leash tight, loving the way he arches his back into the bed. the bell on his collar jingles incessantly.

you spank him, one last time.

"th-that's twenty-f-five—oh, fuck, sir," he growls, clinging on to the blankets for dear life.

you pin one of his hands in place and reach down to touch him. he starts laughing again.

"mmmmmmay I please come, sir? I—fuck—I'm so close, soclosesoclose," his breath stutters, you can hear the breaks in his voice. he buries his face in the blankets.

I'm close, you think, but the words don't make it out. "you're so good—you're so fucking good—come for me—fuck, come for me."

—

you're a mess. there's some drying solution of come and lube on your stomach. not to mention whatever the fuck's going on with your hair. your robe is discarded haphazardly on the floor. you think you've got a hickey, but you can't remember where.

actually, you're both a mess. he's also covered in come, sweat, and lube. he's got a red ring around his neck where you pulled him by the leash a little too hard. he's just covered in bruises. he clings to your arm, still fast asleep. you both passed out pretty quickly after…whatever that was, but you got back up a couple hours later. it doesn't look like he did, though.

actually, your whole bedroom is a mess. a blanket or two ended up discarded on the floor. there's an empty bottle of edible lube somewhere around here. your kitty lingerie set, still dirty, somehow ended up hanging in the closet. the first time you woke up you were both cuddling with a butt plug that you misplaced in the heat of the moment.

you don't think you've ever seen him like that. you can't even put it into words. you've never spanked him. he's never called you sir. you've never come in his mouth. he's never…begged for you like that before. you've never been so exhausted after coming that you both just, just fainted.

you feel lightheaded, and dead tired. you know you both must have gotten back up and gone at it at least a couple more times, but it's blurry, you can't remember. all you know is your vibrator's missing, and you feel…unusually empty, like you do the morning-after getting railed a little too hard.

last night…what the fuck happened last night?

you contemplate getting up, slipping your arm out of his embrace, pulling the covers back up around him, leaving to make breakfast. you're kind of disgusting, several hours after sex without cleaning up properly. you want to get yourselves some washcloths, maybe take shower together, or run him a bath. you know he's gotta be way more sore than you are.

you catch yourself staring, lost in thought; he just looks too cute when he's very clearly roughed up, but still sleeping soundly. and with the way he wanted…the way he needed you yesterday, you don't think he would want to wake up alone.

maybe it's okay if we sleep in a little longer.

you stroke his hair and whisper, "happy birthday, baby boy."

—

edited 14 March 2021

[unmaskedagain]

Rock Star

I was feeling a bit of writer’s block this morning. So I went through my prompts and found this awesome one. It has a bit of angst.

  She lost her friends. The boy she was in love with broke her heart. No one in class apart from Chloe would even speak to her anymore. Lila’s lies had taken root in class, leaving Marinette in the back alone and abandoned. The worst part was that Marinette didn’t even know if she could be friends with any of her classmates again after the truth was exposed. In the effort to cling tighter to the coattails of someone who promised them the world, they had abandoned a childhood friend as if the friendship meant nothing; as if Marinette meant nothing. And as if that wasn’t enough, Akumas were getting stronger every day. Chat Noir was pushier than ever before. Most days it was all too much.

           Most days Marinette didn’t want to get out of bed. She rarely smiled anymore. She couldn’t find it in her to design. It was like the life force had been drained from her. It didn’t take long for her parents to notice. However, after weeks of trying, when it became clear that Marinette wasn’t going to talk to them and that she wasn’t getting better, they sent her to a therapist. After they managed to get her to promise to at least try.

           Dr. Vanderbilt was a kind woman with greying red hair and a Scottish accent. It took multiple sessions before Marinette started to open up about her problems at school; about feeling overwhelmed. One day after a session, the doctor gave Marinette a notebook.

“What’s this for?” Marinette asked taking the black notebook. The front of it said it had a 1000 pages.

“Whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed, I want you to write.”

“Write what?”

“Whatever you want,” Vanderbilt smiled. “What you’re feeling. Poetry. Songs. Quotes you know. Write a story. Whatever helps you get what you’re feeling out, lessen the load you’re carrying a bit.”

           So Marinette did.

           It was a struggle at first. She never thought of herself as much of a writer. Then she started writing random quotes she knew. Then Marinette started writing a bit of poetry just to try to express herself in a way she could understand. However, during a particularly troublesome day, when Alya accused her of being lazy and not being a good class president, Marinette resigned her position much to the shock of the class and started writing song lyrics.

           One of the recommendation from Vanderbilt was to always stop doing things she didn’t want to do just because it made other people happy; especially if it was at harm to herself.

           The doctor made Marinette write 100 times: I will not set myself on fire to keep you warm.

           Marinette always hated being class president; the stress alone could kill a dozen elephants. She hated doing free commissions so she stopped that too. She hated doing the whole birthday celebrations, when everyone was quick to forget her that year. Or plan parties and fundraisers for trips that class made sure to make clear they didn’t want to her go to or on. So she stopped that too.

           It was freeing.

           Writing lyrics to songs were freeing. Soon she was writing them during class, lunch, after school, when there a moment of free time when helping out at the bakery.

           And Vanderbilt was right. It did help her.

           Marinette to smile a lot more. The pep in her step was back. She started hanging out with Chloe and Luka more and more. She made friends with others kids in class. She created a website and started selling custom designs.

           One Friday, after school, Marinette found herself in Jagged’s Hotel room with Chloe and Luka. Jagged had asked Marinette to bring his new concert wardrobe that he had commission from her. He had and Clara Nightingale were going on tour together.

           After Jagged had reviewed the clothes and approved them, proclaimed each outfit to be, “Rockin!”

           Marinette found herself writing a song in her notebook while Luka and Jagged discussed musical influences. Chloe and Penny discussed a potential internships.

           She was so invested in writing that she didn’t notice when the talking stopped. Or when Jagged asked her if she wanted Pizza.

           Marinette jumped back when a hand suddenly waved in her face. “Wait! What!” She looked around and saw the amused faces of Jagged, Penny, Chloe, and Luka. Even Fang had a long grin on his face.

“What’s this love?” Jagged asked pointing to her notebook. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for ages.”

           The bluenette blushed and tried not to hide her notebook; it would only make them more curious, “Nothing; just a notebook for ideas.” Technically that was true.

“Right on, can I see?” Jagged asked.

           Marinette instantly pulled the notebook to her chest and her blushed turned a dark red. She was not going to show a Rock Star the song she wrote. She’d rather die. “Nope! Nah ah, nothing to see here.”

           Chloe rolled her eyes, “Yes, because that’s totally what someone with nothing to hide does.” The blond looked at Penny. “She writes song lyrics. They’re pretty good.”

           Marinette glared at the blond, “Traitor.”

           Luka looked a bit curious. Jagged had a full blown grin on his face, “I knew it!” he shouted. “I knew there was a rocker in you. I had just had to wait a bit, love. Come on. Let me see then! Show Uncle jagged your songs.”

           It took about twenty minutes to get Marinette to agree and then another ten to pry the notebook out of her hands. She watched with a pit in her stomach growing bigger and bigger as she watched Luka, Chloe, Jagged, and Penny flip through her notebook. Reading the lyrics that came straight from her heart.

           What if they hated them? What if they thought she had no talent? What if they thought she was a freak? What if! What If!

“This is good, mate,” Jagged suddenly said. An impressed look on his face. “These are really good.”

“Told ya,” Chloe said smugly.

           Penny nodded, “I wouldn’t mind commissioning some songs from you.”

“I’d like to jam together,” Luka said. “Maybe we can do a duet.”

           Jagged suddenly shot up, “Penny! Call the guys. We need a band! Marinette’s gonna sing for us!” He ran for his guitar.

“Marinette’s going to do what now?” Marinette shouted.

           Marinette was going to sing.

           She sat on a dark brown wooden stool, in front of Jagged’s backup band, with Jagged and Luka on guitar. Chloe and Penny watched in the background. An assistant help up a camera.

           Jagged had decided to give Marinette a rockstar makeover; well as much as she would let him. Her hair was pulled back in a faux hawk with a few curls framing her face, her makeup was flawless, her face was painted to look like she had been crying and her mascara had gotten everywhere.

           It took a while for Jagged, Luka, and she to work out the music would be good for her songs and what songs she’d use. She decided to let the four: Jagged, Penny, Luka, and Chloe decide on the best ones. Marinette was too bias, she knew.

           They had practiced. Everyone assured her she had an amazing voice but Marinette thought they were a bit biased too. They loved her too much to hurt her by saying anything mean.

“Hey fans watching!” Jagged said into the mic. “Today, I got a special guest here. My honorary niece and personal fashion designer; Marinette. She’s written some kick ass songs and agreed to prove that she’s a rockstar like her Uncle. Give her some love!”

           Marinette got up and waked to the mic.

           The drum beat started slowly. Marinette took a deep breath. The guitars and piano started.

           Marinette opened her mouth to sing,

“Someday I won't be afraid of my head

Someday I will not be chained to my bed

Someday I'll forget the day he left

But surely not today.”

           The beat picked up a bit.

           She fought not to close her eyes as she sang. Instead, she thought of why she wrote the song; all the pain, all the mess going on inside. Her blue eyes got a faraway look to them.

“One day I won't need a PhD

To sit me down and tell me what it all means

Maybe one day it'll be a breeze

But surely not today

But surely not today”

           Admitting she was in therapy was hard. Penny comforted her and admitted she went a lot too. Jagged hadn’t been happy when Chloe told the two adults just what was happening in Marinette’s class.

“Oh you don't know what sadness means

'Till you're too sad to fall asleep

One day I'll be snoozing peacefully

But surely not today

Surely not today.”

           Marinette voice carried across the room. She let herself get lost in the music. Otherwise, she’d be too panicky over the fact that she more or less admitted to being depressed.

“One day I'll swear the pain will be a blip

I'll have the hardest time recalling it

I'll be the king of misery management

But surely not today.”

           This song was a promise to herself. That she would move on. She would get better. Somehow, someway, Marinette would conquer all that she was going through and be better for it.

“One day that song won't make me cry anymore (oh no no)

One day I'll get up off the bathroom floor (hey yeah)

Oh, piece by piece I'll be restored

But surely not today (surely not)

Eh, not today”

           Marinette swayed to the music, dancing in place. The other people in the room watched, entranced by her voice.

“oh you don't know what happy means

If it's only in your dreams

I'll be acquainted with my jollities

But surely not today

Yeah, surely not today.”

           There were days when Marinette swore she forgot what it meant to be happy; questioned if she had ever been really happy. Or if she had just fooled herself into thinking she was. She knew better now. And Marinette refused to let the dark thoughts win.

“Surely not, surely, surely not

Surely not (surely not today)”

           Marinette sang that part softly. She knew she wasn’t going to get completely better right away. But she would… One day.

“One day the thought of him won't hurt the same

Won't need distractions to get through the day

I guess I hope I'm gonna be okay

'Cause I'm not today.”

           The song slowly died down. Silence filled the room. Then there were claps and cheers. Jagged’s new manager Harvey Boyd looked ready to wet his pants from excitement.

“Yes!” jagged yelled. “That’s how you do it!”

           Marinette blushed again and ran off stage as Luka readied himself to perform. Penny and Chloe both assured her that she had been amazing but Marinette couldn’t stop her heart from racing in her chest.

           Chloe helped prepare her for her next song as they watched Luka perform.

He had gotten used to being Solo since Kitty Section kicked him out the band. Luka sang a called, She will be loved. A sad melody that was fit him to a T.

“I don't mind spendin' everyday

Out on your corner in the pourin' rain

Look for the girl with the broken smile

Ask her if she wants to stay awhile

And she will be loved, and she will be loved”

           When he was done, once again Harvey Boyd had that hungry look on his face.

           Then Jagged performed one of his hits. After that he brought Marinette up on their makeshift stage again.

           Marinette didn’t feel any better performing the second time. She’d be singing the song Jagged chose.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

So much for my happy ending

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

So much for my happy ending

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh”

           The song was definitely more Rock than her last one. And she wrote it most about Adrien, some of it geared toward Alya and the rest of her friends.

“Let's talk this over

It's not like we're dead

Was it something I did?

Was it something you said?”

           Marinette had wondered for months what she had wrong. Why it was so easy for them to just ignore her; disregard her, end their friendships.

“Don't leave me hanging

In a city so dead

Held up so high

On such a breakable thread”

           They left her alone. Adrien left her alone. She trust them, and just left her.

“You were all the things I thought I knew

And I thought we could be…”

           Marinette closed her eyes for just a moment as the beat of the music changed.

You were everything, everything that I wanted

“We were meant to be, supposed to be, but we lost it

All of the memories, so close to me, just fade away

All this time you were pretending

So much for my happy ending

 So much for my happy ending.”

           The song went on for a few more minutes. She had let the music as the guitar solo slowly died down. The song was met with applause.

           Marinette performed a few more songs, along with Luka. After one of them, Harvey had come directly up to her and Luka and offered to be their manager. Apparently, Jagged’s label had been watching them and wanted to give each of them a record deal. If Penny and Chloe hadn’t been there, both Luka and Marinette wouldn’t fallen her their butts in shock.

           Jagged called Boyd away to discuss something.

           Luka gripped his guitar so tightly Marinette feared it would break, “That didn’t just happen, did it?”

“Nope,” Marinette shook her head, earnestly. “It’s the fumes from all their hairspray. It must have knocked us out. We’re in coma right now.”

           Chloe glared at them. “Oh. Shut. UP! You were amazing. You both were. Marinette you screamed Girl power. And Luka, there’s probably a million girls planning on marry you right now.”

“I have to call my mom!” Luka and Marinette said at the same time.

           Her parents were excited about the news. But they made it clear as long as it didn’t interfere with her school work, she could do whatever she wanted. Sabine and Tom were just happy their little girl was back.

           Luka said his mom was the safe. School first, hall of fame second.

           Jagged pulled Marinette on stage for one last song. The song was chosen by Chloe. It was the song Marinette wrote once she realized she was done. She was done with the drama in class, done with fake friends. Done with game and lies. Done with mean comments and ice cold glares. She was over it. And Marinette didn’t care anymore.

“You wanna play, you wanna stay, you wanna have it all

You started messing with my head until I hit a wall

Maybe I shoulda known, maybe I shoulda known

That you would walk, you would walk out the door.”

           Marinette watched Penny smile as she turned on the big fans pointed at her.

Said we were done, you met someone and rubbed it in my face

Cut to the punch, she broke your heart, and then she ran away

I guess you shoulda known, I guess you shoulda known

That I would talk, I would talk

           She remembered Alya standing in class renouncing their friendship, and nearly everyone joining her. The look on Lila’s face as she finally fulfilled her promise. Adrien not doing anything, and avoiding contact. He never stood up for her; not once. He blocked her calls, stopped answering her texts, until finally he let Nino and who else in class convince him to end his friendship with Marinette outright.

           But when got over the loss, the heartbreak; she decided it was for the best. Marinette didn’t need them. She didn’t want them. Marinette swore she’d never be friends with them again.

“But even if the stars and moon collide

I never want you back into my life

You can take your words and all your lies.”

           The fire in Marinette’s eyes caused a few people to step back; including Luka. Then a wide smile spread over her face and

“Oh I really don't care

Even if the stars and moon collide

I never want you back into my life

You can take your words and all your lies

Oh oh I really don't care

Oh oh oh I really don't care?”

           When the song ended, everyone cheered.

           Jagged grabbed the mic, “Wasn’t she pure Rock and Roll, or what?” He picked up Fang. “What do you think, Fang? You loved it! For those of you who don’t know; this is my pet,” He told the camera. “Totally coolest guy ever. I’d never do anything mainstream like get a cat or anything.” He said with a wink. “For those of you who loved today’s acts; I’ve got some good news. All songs are going to be on itunes. Just look them up! In Addition; my label wants to offer both Luka and Marinette records deals. Who knows, maybe I’ll reach out to Clara about them coming on tour with us; we could use a couple of awesome opening acts.”

           Marinette went home with the biggest smile on her face. She didn’t think much what happened. She figured the record deal wouldn’t go anywhere; someone would realize just how lame she was and stop it dead in her tracks. Marinette also figured that Chloe had exaggerated about how many watched; no one wanted to see some Amateur sing, even if it was on Jagged Stone streamed it.

It wasn’t a big deal, Marinette thought when she went to bed, tomorrow no one would even remember her. Still, it was a pretty fun.

           By Monday morning, Marinette would learn just how big of deal it really was. Little did she know that, overnight, her song ‘Not Today’ was downloaded over 2 million times? Her song ‘Happy ending’ sold over 3 million. But ‘Really Don’t Care’ broke records. The rest of the songs had had performs sold well too; each selling over a million copies. The world was listening to her music, and she had no clue. Luka did pretty well too; his songs were just trailing after Marinette’s in sells.

           Marinette had been helping her parents in the bakery’s kitchen, listening to the radio, when a new song started to play. Marinette turned white as a sheet, “M-Mom! Dad!” She said, her voice trembling.

“What’s up, honey?” Tom asked, worry clear in his eyes.

           She pointed at the radio with a shaky hand, “That’s mine.”

“What?” Sabine asked confused.

“That’s mine,” Marinette repeated. “That’s my song!”

           Her parents looked even more confused. Until they listened closer to the song and recognized their daughter’s voice.

           Sabine dropped the pans she was holding, “You’re on the radio,” She whispered. “You’re on the radio.” She yelled, cheering.

           Tom pulled his daughter into a giant bear hug, “My sugarplum’s a Superstar!”

           After Marinette’s song

           Once, she finished in the bakery, Marinette ran to Chloe’s. When she was let into the penthouse, she rushed to Chloe’s room, and as soon as she saw the blond, she yelled, “I’m on the radio!” And screamed. Chloe screamed with her.

           Then Luka called and screamed, “I’m on the radio!” The sound of his mother cheering the background. As far as he was concerned it was the best day of his life. The year had sucked so hard; first his sister became one of Lila’s groupies, then he got kicked out of his own band, he realized he and the girl (Marinette) he had a crush on were better off as friends, and he broke his lucky guitar and had to fork over his savings to buy a new one.

           But getting a record deal, being on the radio, nearly made all of it worth it. Luka still really wanted his sister back though.

           The three friends spent the rest of the weekend hanging out and being amazed at their luck. Chloe got the internship she was after in the PR department. Thanks to Penny, she’d be Luka and Marinette’s promotor. Or least learning firsthand how everything works.

           When Monday morning came, Marinette was still oblivious to just much had changed in so little time… Until she got to school, and some random girl asked for her autograph. Marinette stuttered out a, “Sure.” And signed the girl’s notebook. While she was doing it, four other kids lined up behind her. She signed each one with a smile.

“I really like your song: Not today,” One guy told her. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one that gets that way sometimes.”

           Marinette was so touched, she nearly started crying right there. She would’ve if Chloe hadn’t dragged her away, with a hiss about not crying in front on fans.

           On the way to class, a few kids stopped and asked her for a picture. She agreed. But when more and more kids tried to get her attention, Marinette, once again, had to be saved by Chloe.

“You are not getting mauled on my watch,” Chloe tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I’d never get to work in PR again.”

           Marinette giggled. Chloe rolled her eyes with a fund smile.

           The smiles died when they reached class. They had gotten there early. Marinette was rarely ever late anymore sense she had lighted her work load. Only a few kid were there. Max, Nathaniel, and Mylene; they all looked at Marinette with wide eyes.

           Marinette ignored them as Chloe and she went to their seats. They made light talk and ignored the looks of the other students as more and more arrived. Most didn’t say a word to her; not knowing what to do or say.

           When Rose arrived, she immediately rushed over to Marinette, “I love your music. I didn’t know you could sing!” She chirped. “I can’t believe you performed with Jagged Stone. You’re so lucky.”

           The bluenette gave the other girl a small smile, “Yeah it was amazing. Luka was great too,” She added. “He’s ecstatic about the record deal. He was so bummed when Kitty Section kicked him out; something about him holding you guys back. Did you guys ever find a new singer and lead guitarist? It’s been months, right?” It was spiteful. It was the meanest thing Marinette had ever done. And they deserved it.

           Rose visibly wilted. So did Ivan and Juleka. Every member of Kitty Section regretted kicking Luka out of the band the moment they saw him performing with Jagged Stone; getting the break of a lifetime. And when they heard about a potential record deal… well, let’s say regret didn’t begin to cover it.

“Oh, we’re working on it,” Rose smiled, a big fake smile on her face. “We got a lot of people we’re considering.” The truth was, and it was hard for Kitty section to learn, that most people who had a fraction of Luka’s talent didn’t want to work with a bunch of teenagers. And without Luka there, no one was reminding them to practice or book gigs.

           Rose returned to a seat, feeling more bummed than she had when she got to the class. She had been happy for Marinette, and for Luka. But she had so many dreams for Kitty Section and herself that just because she was happy for them, didn’t mean she wasn’t unhappy for herself.

           Chloe pulled Marinette back into the conversation, just as the last of the students arrived, “So, once you sign the record deal, are you going to go on tour with Jagged and Clara. Luka said he’s going.”

           Marinette frowned. She hadn’t really considered it much. Clara had reached out to her congratulate her on the record deal and tell her how much she loved Marinette’s songs. Clara had hinted hard that she’d love Marinette to come on tour with her. But Marinette didn’t know. Being a rock star wasn’t ever one of her goals in life.

“I still want to design,” Marinette admitted.

           Chloe shrugged, “So do that too.” She suddenly gripped Marinette’s arm. “You can wear design your own dress to the Teen Choice Awards, and the MTV music Awards. You can design my dress!”

           Marinette laughed, “My song came out like three days ago, and you’re practically writing my acceptance speech; I might not get nominated.”

           The blond scoffed, “Oh you’re getting nominated. Do you know how many people downloaded your songs? Records were broken. Even my mother played ‘Really don’t care’ whenever she wants someone to stop talking to her now. Go on tour!”

“I’d need more songs,” Marinette said. “I’ll need to release like an actual album.”

“Penny went through all yours songs, remember?” Chloe said. “She sent me a list of all ones that she think would top the charts. She wants to record, ‘Fight Song’ as soon as you sign with the label. And she swears, ‘I kissed a Girl’ is going make people lose their minds.”

           Marinette sent her a smirk, “That song’s half yours remember; we wrote it after you and Kagami got closer.”

“Won’t even hide the body, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe growled.

           Marinette laughed, “Fine! If I go on tour, I want you there with me. I couldn’t do it with you! You’re only one I’d trust me my social media accounts.”

“How could you invite Chloe,” Alya asked hearing the end of the conversation as she arrived just after the bell rang. “I’d be a much better social media influencer than her!”

           Chloe raised an eyebrow, “Uh huh, and how’s the traffic for the Ladyblog?” She asked.

           Alya flushed with anger. It was bad. They all knew it was bad. Ladyblog had died dramatically after Ladybug vocally for the other press to hear told Alya she didn’t work with reporters who didn’t fact check. “Marinette’s my bestie; I should be going with her.”

           Marinette snorted, “Last I check your bestie was Lila. Or don’t you remember ending our friendship?”

“Well, I, uh,” Alya stuttered out. She had completely forgotten disowning the bluenette. She had been so excited when her mother told her friend’s name was trending, thinking she’d see Lila Rossi, only to see Marinette Dupain-Cheng on the top search list of the day. Then she watched the video of her performing, when Jagged mentioned the record deal, Alya lost her mind. Her mind was filled with images of her and Marinette at music awards shows and on tours; movie premieres. It was all going to be amazing.

           Except it wasn’t. She and Marinette weren’t friends anymore. A balloon popped inside Alya.

           Marinette gave her a sad smile, “What did you think I forgot? Or you must have.”

“The chances of that happening or as likely as Jagged Stone owning a cat,” Chloe smirked as Lila walked into the door. “Or did you forget that part too? Wonder how Lila saved something he never owned?”

           To her credit, Lila didn’t bat an eye. “He doesn’t own one now. He must have forgotten the poor thing once he got really famous and they went out of style. I wonder what happened to it.” It was good performance. Lila even got teary eyed.

           Still, Lila was met with suspicious looks. The class started to wonder if she was really their golden ticket. Or if the pissed of the real one instead.

“Congratulations, Marinette,” Lila simpered, jealously flaring in her eyes. “Who knew Jagged Stone was your Uncle?”

“Shouldn’t you?” Chloe poked yet another hole in her story. “You said you were oh so very close.”

           Marinette smirked, “I had get my rock and roll genes from somewhere.”

[spnfanficpond]

Pond Diving - Queen-of-deans-booty

Welcome to today’s Pond Diving Spotlight! We hope that you enjoy this little insight to our members and perhaps even find some useful tips for your own writing. Happy reading!

Want to volunteer, send us an ask! We’re looking forward to learning more about all of you! Not sure what PD is, you can learn more here.

“Don’t Be Koi About It” - All About You

Name: Jordan

Age: 23

Location: Arizona, USA

URL: @queen-of-deans-booty 

Why did you choose your URL: Honestly, Dean is the first person I liked on SPN and his ass is so tight and I believe all women are queens so that’s why.

What inspired you to become a writer: I remember reading a book in middle school about vampires, and it’s the first book I remember reading that made me feel all sorts of emotions that books never used to do for me before then. It amazed me to feel these things from a book, and I realized that I wanted to do that for other people someday, thus, is why I became a writer.

How long have you been writing: Gosh, since 8th grade. Might have been a little bit before that, but I remember in 8th grade writing a full book at 20k words, which if I might say, is impressive for a thirteen-year-old.

What do you do when you are not writing i.e. Job/Hobbies etc? I actually am a security guard at a chemical plant. There is some down time to this job, and I try to spend it writing. I even gush to my boss about the stories I write and where I post, and he is all for supporting me about it. When I am not working or writing, then I am either watching Criminal Minds, Manifest, and movies while in my room. With this COVID thing going on right now, I barely leave my house as it is xD

How long have you been in the SPN Fandom? Since season 11 was on TV. It was actually after season 11 had ended and before season 12 had started, so in that four-month span, I managed to watch 11 seasons.

Are you in any other fandoms and do you write for them? Yes! I am in the Marvel and Criminal Minds fandom! I used to be in The Vampire Diaries fandom, but I lost my passion for it so I knew my writing was suffering, so I stopped it. I am doing series rewrites for all three of my fandoms along with one-shots and drabbles!

Do you do any writing outside of fanfiction? If so, tell us about it?  Yes, I try to. I took a NaNoWriMo class in college that made me write my first real book, so that is exciting. I also took fiction classes that made me write poems and short stories. I do want to get into writing more original fiction, but right now, I am focusing more on fanfiction.

Favorite published author: I love Riley Sager, B.A. Paris, James Patterson, Ruth Ware, and there are specific books I adore, but they aren’t from the authors I mentioned. I tend to like books rather than authors.

Have you ever read a book that made an impact on your life? Which one and why?: Vampire Kisses by Ellen Schreiber. That's the book that I mentioned about inspiring me to write, and I dedicate my love for writing to her.

Favorite genre of fanfic (smut, angst, fluff, crack, rpf, etc):  I really enjoy reading fluff, but I enjoy writing angst because I feel I can have a lot more emotions and feels when I write angst.

Favorite piece of your own writing:  My SPN series rewrite. I am currently planning season 7, and I am in the process of releasing season 6. I have gotten so many good reviews of it, and that fuels my passion for it.

Most underrated fic you have written: I can’t think of any at the top of my head. I tend not to look back on my own writing too much. I’ll have an overwhelming need to rewrite it and fix it up, and I don’t need that right now xD

Story of yours that you’d most like to see turned into a movie/tv show: Is it bad to say my series rewrite? It’s already a show, but I’d like to see my version of the show. If I can’t pick that, then my original fiction novel that I wrote that has over 70k words. That would be pretty cool.

Favorite Tumblr Writer(s): @impala-dreamer, @torn-and-frayed, @crispychrissy, @kittenofdoomage, @acreativelydifferentlove, @saxxxology, and there are others, but those are some of the people that come to mind.

Favorite fic from another writer: Can I mention a few? Rock, Paper, Scissors by @impala-dreamer, The Curious Incident of Episode 14x09 by @luci-in-trenchcoats, On the Road by @notnaturalanahi, Cherry Surprise by @crispychrissy, A Change of Scenery by @cass-trash, and On the Case Files (Criminal Minds fandom) by @hotchnerfuckmeup​.

Favorite character to write: For Supernatural, it’ll have to be Dean Winchester. For Marvel, it’ll have to be either Loki or Bucky. For Criminal Minds, it’ll have to be Spencer Reid

Favorite Pairing to write: I only write reader-inserts so the characters don’t really matter as long as it’s x reader.

Least favorite character to write (and why): For Supernatural, it’s Crowley. I don’t know why, but I can never seem to get him right. He’s more sadistic and hardcore sometimes and I just can’t get that right.

Do you have anyone you consider a mentor?  I don’t really have anyone right now. It used to be my teachers/professors, but I graduated and I don’t see them anymore.

Do you have any aspirations involving your writing? I want to be a published author. That’s all I want. I want to see my books on the shelves, and I’d also love to be a fiction editor! I can’t do anything right now because of COVID, but hopefully one day!  

How many work-in-progress stories do you have: More than I can count right now. Like seriously, I probably have over 100. I have a bunch of bingo cards that I have ideas for, but I have so many that they all just pile on. There will come a time when I get through all of them, but I don’t know when.

What are you currently working on?  Right now? Some requests and my spn series rewrite.

“Pond Diving” - All About The Writing

What/who has had the biggest influence on your writing? Like I mentioned above, it’s Ellen Schreiber. She is the one person that made me want to become a writer. Also, all my followers on all of my blogs. They are the truest influencers because they are what gives me passion for my writing.

Best writing advice you've been given: Write as if you’re the only audience. I’ve learned that if you don’t like what you’re writing about, then your audience will certainly see it. You can’t please everyone, so please yourself. There will always be someone who loves your writing for what it is, so don’t go changing it to please others.

Biggest obstacle you’ve faced in your writing: Trying to pace myself. I’ve heard of people spending two or three days (or even longer) on a fic. It’s either all or nothing with me. I either spend two or three hours on a fic and complete it right there and then, or I don’t write it at all. Pacing is an issue for me, and I am always trying to spend longer on a fic. I guess I just type really fast, I don’t know.

What aspects of writing do you find difficult when you write fanfiction? I find that trying to keep the character as canon as possible is most difficult. While it’s not always super hard, it does have its moments. All fanfiction are AUs, so it’s okay to change the characters to make them your own. While I don’t think one should make them the complete opposite if they are wanting to stay within canon, I do believe it’s okay to change a few things around.

Is there anything you want to write but are afraid to (and why): I want to write ships. Now that I think about it, I’m not quite sure why I don’t write them. Maybe it’s time that I start.

What inspires/motivates you to write: Feedback!!! Reader’s don’t always see it, but every piece of feedback I get makes me want to write. I do better knowing there are actual people out there that are looking forward to what I write. I do better knowing that real people are reading them and judging it. I do my best knowing that there is an audience. If I don’t get feedback, then that motivation just goes away.

How do you deal with self doubt: I’m not so sure I always do. There is always a voice in the back of my mind telling me that my stories are complete and utter shit, and I shouldn’t bother writing anything. It’s why I take a step back from writing so often. When I first started my blog, I came out with fics every single day. I was always writing new stories. Now, I may get a story out per week. Maybe two per week. I know when it’s time to take a break for a few days because it gives that voice time to calm down. My best advice for someone dealing with self doubt is to just take a break. Separate yourself from the thing that your mind is telling you that you suck at. Take care of you before jumping back into it. Trust me, it helps.

How do you deal with writer's block: Kind of the same thing as I mentioned above. I have suffered from writer’s block a lot more than in my earlier years. Sometimes, I just don’t have the motivation or the passion to write, and I just get so mad at myself for not doing it. One of the things that help me is writing down my ideas. Yeah, I get ideas that float in my head about stories I’d like to write, but actually writing them down makes them concrete. Then, I am able to make notes and side notes and notes of my notes about what I’d like to happen, and before I know it, I’m writing it.

Do you plan/outline your story before you start: ALWAYS! Always, always, always plan your writing, especially if you’re doing a series. It’s good to know what is going on in your story. You don’t always have to follow it to the exact detail (you’re allowed to make changes as you go), but having a plan makes it easier to get through your story. You’re able to look back at it and remind yourself why you're writing that exact scene or if something needs to be added or taken away from it. If you have a plan, then you’re less likely to lose that passion since you know what’s going to happen. You’re able to see the finish line well before you start.

Do you have any weird writing habits: This may be weird, but I like to listen to Got U On by Darci feat. Nessly, Highest in the Room by Travis Scott, some music by Juice WRLD, and other loud rap songs. Don’t ask me why, but I find the music soothing when I write. Those rap songs sound the same to me, and their voices just drown out so I’m just listening to the music. There are other kinds of music I listen to like piano instrumentals and rain/thunder sounds, but it’s really any song I can tune out.

Have you ever received hateful comments on your fic and how do you deal with it? I don’t want to sound arrogant or snobby, but I can honestly say I’ve never received one hateful comment on anything I’ve written (knock on wood xD). I’ve only received good things about my stories, and I think it has something to do with how much good energy I am putting into the world. I believe in karma, and I tend to be nice to everyone regardless of who they are, and I think it comes back to the kind of comments I receive. However, I always think about what I’d do or say if I’ve ever gotten a hate comment. I wouldn’t encourage them to send more hate, but I wouldn’t apologize either. I write the stories I write because it makes me happy. If they don’t like it, they can go somewhere else. Though, I know those hate comments can get to some people, and here is what I have to say about that: remind yourself of when you actually wrote the fic. If you were truly happy about it, then it shouldn’t matter what that person says. You love it, and that’s all that matters.

Conversely: what’s been some of your favorite feedback on your fanfic?  I have to pick a favorite? XD I have an album in my phone of screenshots I took of my favorite comments left by my followers. I’ve been compared to John Green, there have been comments that thank me for giving them an escape from their realities, people have told me they want to write just like me someday, people have told me that my work has made them smile and get chills, that my stories are the highlight of their week, and a bunch of other stuff. I am just shocked that there are people out there who think this. It means so much to me, and I get tears when I read them because this is literally my dream. I can’t thank my followers enough for the comments they leave, and this is exactly why it’s so important to leave feedback.  

If you could give one piece of advice to a new and/or struggling writer, what would it be? Write for you. I can’t stress this enough. I’ve mentioned it before, and I’m going to mention it again. If you’re not happy, it will show through your writing. Your audience will see it based on how you word things and your flow of ideas. On another note, please brush up on your grammar. I can’t tell you how many times I read such an interesting summary, and noticed the story was full of grammatical mistakes. It made me not want to read it anymore. I’m sure it was a great story, but I didn’t want to put myself through that just to read it.

[ilovesamheughan]

Herself is fun like no other! 😂

Diana Gabaldon's Foreword to Clanlands Reveals Behind-the-Scenes Stories from the Outlander Set

Here's your first look at the introduction to Sam Heughan and Graham McTavish's new book.

BY DIANA GABALDON

NOV 3, 2020

outlander season 2 2016ED MILLER / STARZ

Well, in The Beginning . . . there was a man in a kilt.

I’ve always figured that if there’s something you want to do, you should start doing it, and if it’s the right thing, the universe kind of comes out to meet you. So, I started writing a novel about a man in a kilt, and the universe brought me a television show.

I’ve been indirectly responsible for a lot of strange things since I wrote Outlander – from:

. . . five seasons (so far) of a hit TV series

. . . the names of dozens of purebred dogs, racehorses and housing developments

. . . thousands of babies named Brianna or Jamie (no one has ever, to my knowledge, named a child ‘Murtagh’, which is puzzling . . .)

. . . Lord John Grey’s Tea

. . . symphonic band compositions

. . . a musical

. . . a Scottish woolen mill specialising in tartan

. . . a marvelous pair of cookbooks

. . . three million knitted cowls

. . . dozens of female fans who lower their trousers at book signings to show me ‘Da mi basia mille’ tattooed on their tailbones (as my husband remarked to me, ‘Well, how many people can say,“Kiss my ass” in classical Latin?’)

. . . a 72% increase in Scottish tourism (as Visit Scotland was kind enough to tell me), and

. . . an excellent whisky called ‘Sassenach’

But this book may be one of the strangest, and definitely one of the best!

I’m deeply honoured that Sam and Graham have asked me to write the foreword to one of the most interesting, unusual (to put it mildly . . .) and hilarious books I’ve read in a long time. I’m not quite sure what you’d call it, but then I’m used to not being able to describe my own books in twenty-five words or less, so this is probably not a problem.

To start with, it’s a buddy book. Two good friends banter (and bicker) their way across the Scottish Highlands, risking life and limb in that casual way that makes men attractive. Why? Well, because they’re both Scottish and they have both been a large part of Outlander (not just the television show, but the whole weird phenomenon), have realised that they are Scottish (wearing a kilt every day for two years will do that to you), and want to find out where their heritage came from and what being Scottish actually means (aside from being born liking whisky)

It’s also a road book. (Think Jack Kerouac, but with fewer drugs, more paragraphs and no sex. Well, almost no sex . . .).

Our two friends are in fact making a television series about several historical locations in the Highlands. Accompanied by a small film crew – including a talented makeup artist and a drone operator – they visit spectacular historical locations in the Scottish Highlands to learn the true history of some of the best-known massacres, fights, betrayals, beheadings, and other typically Scottish recreational activities. This is the story of that journey, accomplished via an aged Fiat camper van, tandem bike, kayak and any number of other improbable modes of transport that only make sense to people suffering from testosterone poisoning.

And on their way, they talk. Not only to each other, but to themselves. In some of its phases, the book is a twin memoir. Each man recalls his life as an actor – in bits – because every actor (like every writer) pretty much makes it up as they go along. Which means a lot of the stories are of the kind that are only funny to the protagonists with twenty years’ perspective, but are endlessly entertaining to the spectators.

These reminiscences include a good many stories from the Outlander set, as well. I’m only on set myself intermittently, but I do recall the day in Season Two when Sam’s horse – which he was preparing to mount – decided to take its mother’s advice and relieve itself before setting out (there’s reason why most costumes are made in multiples). And another occasion during Season Two wherein Graham was required to ride a mechanical horse (as the director said to me, ‘It looks like shit, but you won’t be able to actually see it on film’)

The mechanical horse was carried on the back of a truck, followed by another truck with a camera, and Graham was supposed to leap into the mechanical horse’s saddle while moving (supposedly jump-ing from another horse). This being television, they filmed the scene many, many times to ensure enough footage to get the effect they were after. When they finally stopped, Graham staggered downhill from the road where they’d been doing this, pausing by me and Anne Kenney (brilliant writer of the other episode in that block of filming) to say, ‘I’ve just been having a conversation with my balls. They said, “We’d really rather you didn’t do that again”’. And staggered on, muttering, ‘I knew I should have worn a cup this morning . . .’.

And finally, there’s the actual history of the ‘clan lands’, woven through this tale of a journey. The travelers reach the most interesting/famous/relevant Highland locations, where they do learn what their history and heritage are, assisted by some of the most colorful inhabitants of those places.

So, you’re actually getting four books in one! (A real bargain . . .).

But the most important part of this book is the friendship between its authors, that colours and illuminates every page.

I was both intrigued and immensely entertained by the story, but also touched on a personal level. One of the most unexpected aspects of the whole ‘Outlander phenomenon’ is the amazing way in which it seems to draw people together. People read the books and watch the show – and they want to talk about it. So, they form fan groups and book clubs and Facebook forums, and deep, lasting friendships, all because of a shared love of a story.

I will always recall one woman who brought me a book at a signing, who told me that she lived alone, had been alone for many years, seldom got out and had no family – but that she’d become attracted to the story, found others who felt likewise, and who invited her to go with them to book-signings, premieres and conventions. ‘Now I have friends!’, she said. She cried, and so did I.

I hope you’ll feel that sense of friendship in these pages.

A final word, since this book is all about returning to one’s roots: Some years ago, one of my novels won the Corine International Prize for Fiction, and I was invited to go to Germany to accept the award. This was rather a Big Deal for the German publisher, and they took advantage of my presence to have me interviewed by the entire German press corps; newspapers, magazines, radio, television, literary journals, you name it. By the end of the week I was sleep deprived and a bit glazed over when I met a nice gentleman from one of the literary journals.

Delightful man, he went on at great (and flattering) length about the books. He loved my narrative drive, my characters were tremendous, my imagery transcendent!

So I’m sitting there in a pleasant daze, thinking, ‘Yes, yes, go on . . .’, when he suddenly said, ‘There is just one thing I wonder: can you explain to me, what is the appeal of a man in a kilt?’.

Well, had I been totally conscious, I might not have said it (then again . . .). Anyway, I looked at him for a moment and said, ‘Well . . .I suppose it’s the idea that you could be up against a wall with him in a moment.’

<ahem>

A few weeks later, home again in Arizona, I get a packet of interview clippings from the German publisher, and on the top is the interview from that journal. The publisher had attached a Post-it note, saying, ‘I don’t know what you said to this man, but I think he is in love with you!’.

A man in a kilt. A very powerful and compelling image, yes . . . And now you have two of them . . .

Pour yourself a good dram, open the covers and enjoy yourself!

Slàinte mhath!

Diana Gabaldon

Scottsdale, Arizona

August, 2020

[bakguwuu]

More Espresso, Less Depresso || k.e

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ — SUMMARY || Coffee is the only thing that can get you out of bed without blowing up your whole apartment. What happens when you forget to refill your coffee supplies? — PAIRING || Kirishima Eijirou X Fem!Reader — TYPE || Story — WARNING || Swearing — WORD COUNT || 1.3k+ — AUTHOR’S NOTE || avasaicnai this has been in my drafts for so loNg BUT i just keep getting writers block :sads: i hope it turned out alright tho ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

“Why the fuck is there no more coffee packets?” You practically - and quite literally - slammed your mug down against the counter. With your hair disheveled and night clothes loosely hanging off your aching body, you cursed at the empty shelf. “Fuck this! Fuck that! I hate my life.” You seethed, flipped off your coffee maker as if it was the sole cause of your moodiness.

What a great way to start your day.

The walk to the coffee shop was tiring and annoying as hell. You hated how cheery people could be so early in the day. Sure, the sun was bright and made the streets glow but it only seemed to sneer at your storm of irritation. It also didn’t help that your head was pounding because of the lack of caffeine in your system. It only made you scowl even more and mentally cuss at everything. Once you walked into the quaint coffee shop, the aroma of fresh coffee filled your senses. It made your pain and anger a little more bearable.

“Good morning!” A red-headed male greeted you with a smile that could blind anyone who stared too much at it. It confused you - no, it made you jealous.

“I really doubt it.” You sighed while closing your eyes. You just needed a cup of that warm bitter drink. A chuckle made you look back at the barista.

“I can tell.” Although on a different occasion you would have snapped back with a retort, this time you didn’t really care. You knew how bad you must have looked at the moment. Slightly shaking your head, you told him your order. He happily wrote it down and began making your drink. He got right to work, pouring and mixing different liquids and you stared at the back of his head. He was still smiling even though he wasn’t facing you. Your shoulders slumped as another wave of pain surged through the sides of your head.

“Just a few more minutes and this shitty day can disappear.” You muttered, staring - more like glaring - at the ground.

“_____?” Perfect. You took the drink from the hands of the barista and thanked him. “I hope your day gets better.” He commented, flashing that oh so bright smile, before returning to attend the other customers. Inhaling the scent, you happily sighed. Taking a long swig; not caring of the heat burning the top of your mouth or your tongue, you relished the feeling. It crashed and flowed down your throat and plunged into your stomach. Exhaling, your lips curled into a smile for the first time in the day.

Taking a glance at the warm cup in your hands you noticed that there was writing on the side. Curious, you turned the cardboard sleeve and read it.

Instead of coffee, would you like some hot tea? Because you sure look like one ;)

It should have been a red flag of someone hitting on you, but the line was so bad that it made you laugh. There was something refreshing with the way he wrote it and it was amusing. Maybe having no more coffee packets was a good thing.

Until you read your name.

“Fucker spelled my name wrong.” You laughed again before taking another sip and walking out.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

It slowly became a routine for you to visit the little coffee shop. And every time you went, he was there with that all too shiny smile. The walk to the coffee shop became one of your favourite times of the day and receiving that cup became your number one favourite part of your day. He gave you the cutest and the worst pick-up lines but they never failed to lighten your mood. Lines ranging from:

Do you know what you would really look beautiful in? My arms.

to

I know you’re busy today but can you add me to your to-do list?

Flirty? Cute? Dumb? You name it. He gave you all of them. He still spelled your name wrong, no matter how many times you tried to correct him. So you decided to give him a taste of what that felt like.

“Hello, Ehhjhirou.” He blinked a couple of times before breaking out that dopey grin.

“If you can’t read, it’s Eijirou. Not Oreo, not Emario - I don’t even understand how you could even think that’s even close to how you say it. And it’s definitely not whatever you just said.” He deadpanned while pointing to his name tag, trying to make his point.

“And if you can’t spell, it’s ____.” You smirked, countering his smile.

“Hey! Excuse you but I can spell just perfectly.” He crossed his arms. Rolling your eyes you giggled.

“So what do you have for me today?” You leaned against the divider that separated the working space and the customer space. You eyed him as he got to work. For a guy that looks a little rough around the edges, his hands were graceful and efficient.

“Then there would be no surprise!” You were glad that there weren’t many people in the shop today. Unlike now, there were several days where other customers didn’t take it lightly to your interactions with Kirishima; antsy and grumpy at their lack of coffee. You’ve experienced many rude and angry complaints to “hurry your horny ass up” to quote. But today, you couldn’t be more than happy, especially since you were working from home. You still needed your daily dose of caffeine so that’s why you’re at the shop today. And maybe your daily dose of Kirishima, but who’s asking.

“I’ve also been meaning to ask; how long have you been working here?” You crossed your arms over your chest and shifted your weight, “I mean I always see you here, even at the weirdest times.”

“Yeah, like coffee at four in the morning is a good idea.” His comment made you roll you eyes.

“I just happened to get my morning coffee extra early that day.”

“That was like morning morning coffee.” Kirishima was now on the last stages of his coffee making and stopped when he was about to write his infamous pick-up line on the sleeve. “I don’t know why I’m always here. Maybe it’s because I’m bored and have nothing to do or maybe ‘cuz I wanna see you.” Kirishima always used his pick-up lines as a way to flirt with you, but this was the first time he said something forward to your face. You blushed, of course, because how can you not when someone confesses their attraction towards you. When you didn’t respond, he took it as an opportunity to hand you your cup.

You thanked him and hesitated a bit before reading the words he wrote. But when you did, you swore you stopped breathing for a bit.

Something is wrong with my phone, it doesn’t have your number in it. Also, are you free tonight, or will it cost me? 

It hadn’t occurred to you that you didn’t have the boy’s number. And was he finally asking you out? His pick-up lines would never consist anything of actually going out on a date but more of the silly ones where they held no real meaning. But this one. This one was actually asking you out. You looked at the male for anymore information. His eyes were hopeful and he bit his lower lip in anticipation. Poor boy, couldn’t even hold eye contact. Where did all the confidence in the pick-up lines go? You grinned as you took in the situation unfolding itself in front of you.

“Sure, Eijirou. Pick me up at eight?” Your words made his gaze dart from wherever he was looking at before straight to your face. He seemed like he was reading your facial features to make sure that what you said was actually true. You gave him a wave while walking out of the shop. Right before the door closed, though, you heard him shout in triumph and saw him fist bump the air. A giggle escaped your lips.

You just scored yourself a date.

[argylemnwrites]

Looking Back

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x MC (Cassie Vanderfield)

Book: Open Heart (almost 2 years after Chapter 1 of book 2)

Word Count: ~1900

Rating: PG-13 (light language, innuendo)

Summary: A night of celebration causes Cassie and Bryce to take a look back.

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry it’s been so long since I wrote Bryce fic! The pandemic writer’s block was particularly brutal for this couple, but I am pretty happy to be back with our favorite flirty, confident surgeon! This story is for two of the “Things You Said” prompts - 11. Things you said when you were drunk (as requested by @sunnyxdazed, @choicesarehard, and an anon) and 22. Things you said after it was over (as requested by @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl and @omgjasminesimone). It also works for the Choices May Challenge Day 29 prompt (Memories).

“Nah, I’m good,” Bryce said, shaking his head as Jackie attempted to pass him a shot of tequila.

“Lahela, you can’t pass on drinks tonight! We’re celebrating!” she called out, raising her arm and drawing cheers from several others around them, including Cassie.

“You might be celebrating, but I still have to preround at 6 am tomorrow,” Bryce replied, shaking his head as Cassie grabbed the shot glass Jackie kept trying to hand him, throwing it back in rapid succession with the shot Jackie had already given her. Man, tonight was going to get sloppy.

“That’s on you for choosing a specialty with such a long residency,” said Jackie, quirking an eyebrow before downing her own shot. “It’s not our fault you surgeons are so dumb and cocky that you need those extra years of training just to be competent physicians.”

Bryce grinned at her, grabbing the empty shot glasses Cassie handed to him as she reached for a lime. He would let her have that one tonight. After all, it was her graduation night. 

The internal med graduation had been pretty much what Bryce had expected. Decent food, but watered down drinks and boring speeches by the hospital bigwigs, all culminating with the program director going over each resident’s career plans and handing them a certificate. At least Cassie’s table had been a good one with Elijah, Phoebe, and his parents, a med-peds resident named Amber who Bryce didn’t know well but who had been fun to talk to, as was her husband when he wasn’t trying to corral their two year old son, plus Cassie’s parents and Keiki, able to come thanks to Amber only needing two tickets. And thankfully the faculty member assigned to their table was an endocrinologist named Dr. Liz Aubly, not Ethan Ramsey. Bryce had forced more than enough awkward small talk with the man at the monthly diagnostics team dinner he’d gone to with Cassie last week, and he got the feeling Ramsey was not thrilled that he was now officially Cassie’s date for all such events. Over the next two years, with Bryce on his research years while Cassie remained at Edenbrook for her diagnostics fellowship, their paths were going to cross often.

But tonight wasn’t about looking forward, it was about looking back and remembering three years of patients and long hours and crappy coffee and not enough sleep. Now that the formal portion of the graduation was done with, most of the third year IM residents had ditched their families and taken over Donahue’s, celebrating having only two weeks left as residents. It was the only time they all were off at the same time, excluding the annual resident holiday party, since starting residency, and people were letting loose.

“Wait, we didn’t toast to anything with this round,” Elijah noted after he tossed his lime slice onto the growing pile in the middle of the table. After the first couple of rounds, things had turned decidedly sentimental, with the group rotating what event from their three years of residency they were commemorating. So far, they had toasted to adopting their pet turtle Sal Monella, Jackie being named one of next year’s chief residents, Cassie getting reinstated, and swapping out Landry for Aurora as a roommate. 

“You’re right!” Cassie cried out, stumbling off Bryce’s lap. “I’ll go get us another round so we can do things properly.”

Bryce grabbed her wrist, stopping her abruptly. “What?” she asked, her eyes blazing as they locked on his, clearly ready to fight him if he dared to question how much everyone was drinking.

“I’m going with you,” he said with a grin, standing up and subtly sliding his hand down her back, hoping she saw it as a loving, flirty gesture and not an attempt to steady her and keep her upright. Cassie was typically a pretty agreeable drunk, if a little handsy, but she got absolutely livid if anyone implied that her coordination and proprioception were at all impaired by her drinking. He had enough sense not to tell her there was a good chance all the drinks would be ending up on the floor if she did this by herself.

Together, they made their way over to the bar, crowded with dozens of other IM third years. Cassie leaned over the bar, trying to find a free bartender, but quickly abandoned her mission when she wasn’t immediately successful.

“You should do the next toast,” she said, spinning to face Bryce, steadying herself just slightly by leaning back against the bar.

Bryce shrugged, “Nah, tonight’s for you guys. I’m still just a lowly resident for the next four years.”

Cassie grinned, sliding a hand forward and grabbing a belt loop on Bryce’s pants, pulling him toward her. “Where’s all this modesty coming from?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I know I’m still the best surgical resident at Edenbrook. In fact, now that you are moving up in the world, I am losing some competition for best resident in all specialties.”

Cassie laughed, dragging her hand across his hip and sliding it into his back pocket, giving his ass a light squeeze, prompting Bryce to waggle his eyebrows at her.

“I see you’ve reached a very boldly flirty stage of drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes, but sliding her other hand into his other pocket at the same time, “I just found a comfortable place to rest my hands. Besides, in a couple of weeks, I’ll officially outrank you, so I gotta enjoy this-” she added, giving him another squeeze for good measure, “-while I still can.”

He chuckled at that. She wasn’t going to be supervising him at all, so it didn’t really matter, but Jackie had taken to teasing Cassie that their relationship was going to become suddenly scandalous and forbidden when Cassie became a fellow. “Are you sure you want to move in together, then? It might be hard to keep your hands to yourself around all of this-” Bryce gestured an open hand up and down in front of his body “-when you have 24/7 access.”

Cassie tilted her head to the side, a coy little smirk forming. “Yeah. You know why?”

“Why?” he asked, humoring her as he lifted a hand to tuck a strand of her dark hair behind her ear.

“Because you helped clean up after that first party in our apartment.”

His hand froze next to her cheek. He’d completely forgotten he’d done that. He’d mainly just been looking for something to do while waiting to say goodnight to Cassie, or rather, hoping he wouldn’t have to say goodnight. Pitching in with cleaning up the trash had just seemed like the natural thing to do. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“It’s when I knew you were a good person, not just some overconfident hot guy. It’s when I knew you were boyfriend material, not just a casual fling.”

Bryce didn’t quite know how to respond to that. His feelings for Cassie evolved gradually, slowly, naturally over the past three years, going from seeing her as that cute dark-haired medicine intern to the person he loved and trusted most in the world bit-by-bit, day-by-day. He didn’t have some moment with her that was some great epiphany where he realized he wanted more or saw her differently. He just cherished getting to know her better, seeing different sides of her, and adoring nearly everything that he discovered or she revealed. But Cassie had apparently seen depths in him from the start. He wasn’t sure if it put their early hookups in a different light or not, but all he could really do at this point was appreciate that they had come this far together, no matter how they got there. So he gave her a gentle kiss, pulling back as he saw one of the bartenders coming toward them and flagging him down, ordering another round of tequila shots, plus a glass of water for himself.

Soon, they made their way back to the table, Bryce carrying the shots while Cassie focused on not bumping into people. She waited for him to pass around the drinks and sit back down before she plunked herself back onto his lap, looping one arm behind his neck and grabbing one of the shot glasses with her other.

“What are we toasting to this time?” Jackie asked, raising her glass and looking around the table expectantly.

“I have one,” said Bryce, causing Cassie to twist her head to look at him, her eyebrows raised and her pupils blown wide, “To that first party you guys threw at the apartment. It really was the start of everything.”

Everyone clinked their glasses together over the center of the table, with some “Hear hears” and “To the parties” scattered in the mix, but Cassie didn’t throw back her shot right away. Instead, she kept her eyes locked on Bryce’s, offering him a brilliant smile before wrapping her other arm around his neck in a tender hug... and unfortunately dumping her shot of tequila down his neck and under his shirt in the process.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” she cried out once she realized what she’d done.

“It’s fine,” Bryce said with a little shrug, “but I do think that signals the end of the festivities for me.”

“Party pooper!” Elijah yelled out, but Bryce just shook his head. 

“Someone has to actually be functional enough to take care of patients tomorrow, and it’s certainly not going to be anyone else at this table. Cassie, you coming over to my place, or are you going to keep the party going with this crew?”

“Your place,” she said without a moment of hesitation. “I spent the night with you after my first party of residency, so who am I to buck tradition at the last one?” Bryce grinned at that, noticing Elijah just shaking his head out of the corner of his eye before Cassie leaned over and kissed him, sliding her hands along his shoulders before pulling back.

“Get a room,” Jackie said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m trying,” Bryce replied over Cassie’s shoulder. “Come on, babe,” he said, helping Cassie to her feet before standing up and slinging an arm around her waist, waving goodbye to their friends as he navigated her towards the door. 

“I can’t believe I’m basically done with residency,” Cassie said as Bryce pulled out his phone to order a Dryve. “It’s been three years already. How has it been three years?”

Bryce just chuckled, guiding her down the large step off onto the sidewalk as they left the bar. “Time flies when you’re working 80 hours a week for minimum wage, huh?”

“Something like that,” she replied, pivoting to face him and tugging him into a loose hug. 

“Looking back, anything you’d want to change?”

She seemed to ponder that for a moment before shaking her head, “I mean, I probably could have done without the suspension, but I think it helped me grow. I don’t know. I guess even with all the drama, I’m happy with how things turned out. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, Cassie,” he said, squeezing her tight and running his hand along her spine, “it does.”

Permatag:  @walkerswhiskeygirl   @riley--walker @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5  @mfackenthal  @thequeenofcronuts  

Open Heart:  @tallulahshh @rookie-ramsey @omgjasminesimone @ao719​

Bryce x MC:    @thequeenchoices​  @fortunatelywaywardsandwich​   @dreaming-of-movies​  @choicesarehard​  @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl​  @maria-soederberg​ @mskaneko​   @sunnyxdazed​

Event Tags: @choicesmaychallenge​ @kinda-iconic​

[popculturebuffet]

Loud House Season 5 Catchup (Blinded by Science, Band Together, Season’s Cheatings, A Flipmas Carol) or Of Mutants, Medicority, Merryment and Money

Merry Christmas everybody! And it’s Christmas Week so expect christmas out the jingle jangle for the next few days. And starting us off is something long overdue as coverage of the Loud House FINALLY resumes just in time for christmas. Yes it’s been over a month since the last episode and while i’ve covered two holiday episodes since then, I haven’t gotten back to season 4 despite, like Ducktales and Amphibia, it being on my roster. The answer why: I had a ton of comissions coming in, and other projects going on including ducktales coverage, so I kept putting off banned together/blinded by science for weeks.. until they coldied right into Season’s Cheatings and a flipmas carol. So yeah this one’s way too late and I will TRY not to have this happen again. I can’t promise they’ll be same day of or right on time as unlike Disney and Cartoon Network who are really good about putting their stuff on the app same day or that morning or streaming services which I own so.. yeah, Nick likes to take their sweet time sometimes and isn’t as steady with their release schedule. It’s why I ended up deciding not to do regular coverage of the casagrandes, though don’t be suprise if it shows up here on occasion as I sitll like it quite a bit. Nick is just a pain in the ass to deal with. Point is it’s here now and in time for the holiday season so i’ve delayed this long enough. Let’s get back to Season 5 after the cut

Blinded by Science:

So yeah... i’m just going to say it.. this season.. has been fucking weird. 

I mean sure there’s been plenty of normal episodes: The Boss Maybe, Strife of the Party, Kernel of Truth, Banned Together, Season’s Cheatings. There are more normal standard Loud House episodes than the weird ones... but that just makes out how looney some episodes have gotten stick out MORE. I mean among episodes tackling Leni struggling to step into Lori’s true, an obnoxious party despute, a news antics episode, Luna dealing with her career, and a holiday shenanigans episodes.. we’ve also had Lincoln get shipped off to Canada for an episode, Lincoln thwart a supervillian plot, Lori learning her school has a friendly ghost caddy that everyone who goes there knows and just accepts like that’s a normal thing, and with two of today’s episodes, Flip being some kind of monsterious miracle of science or possibly having an x gene we don’t know and then being visted by the ghosts of christmas past, present and future, who for no explained reason look and act like Lisa, Lincoln, Clyde and Lucy. 

I mean I can stretch disbelief for a lot of cartoons and i’m fine with it. Lisa does it pretty much on concept. But stretching things a bit for a joke is fine.. but it’s gotten to the point where the plots have gone from grounded slice of life stuff to really weird high concept stuff and it’s really hard to tell if this is going to work or not as Schooled and Family Bonding were not great, especially the latter, Ghosted was pretty good, Flipmas Carol was okay and this one... is decent. So it’s two good, two bad and one neutral. It’l take smore more episodes to see if this is a good thing or not.. I was leaning toward not before this block, but it’s very clear by the fact multiple writers have done this and the one whose done this the most wrote normal episodes last season, that this is an overall creative decision and thus something ‘im just going to have to live with. And hey, it gives me more material to work with so there you go.  So yeah let’s actually talk about this episode: Lisa is scrambling because she has a presentation at a big science convention, but doesn’t have any new discoveries to report. She does have snakebird though, which is exactly what it sounds like and exactly as delightful. Everyone should have one of those I don’t know how this isn’t worth presenting. Just put snakebird in hat. Lincoln comes to help because Rita heard snakebird and wanted to make sure lily was okay, and all he’s doing is taking her for a ride so it’s fine. Snakebird should be a part of my a different world style spinoff I’m just saying. Or with Stella.. I have a lot of spinoff ideas and only one of them has gotten a cease and desist from viacom so that’s progress! 

Point is Lincoln ends up being a very good big brother and takes her to flips for a flippee as that usually helps him think. He also crouchs down adorably to reach her height at one point. 

Like it’s jsut really precious to see that. It also does something the show does at it’s best: Weave the other siblings into each others plots organically. Lately they haven’t been as good at that with some exceptions and while it’s fine to have a few episodes where the rest of the family isn’t involved it is weird to just sorta.. cordon off 11 of our leads instead of giving them their own unique dynamics with each other. And while I do think Lincoln gets way to much of the spotlight at times, and his episodes have not been the best this season, I do think he works perfectly here: He’s the one with the most history with flips, so his role he ends up taking in the plot make sense, and him taking a big brother role and taking her down there is really adorable. It’s honestly easy to forget sometimes since half his sisters outage and outrank him by a lot that LIncoln has some authority and brotherly duty himself but when it crops up it’s really nice to see. 

But yeah while Lincoln’s gesture was nice it does nothing to help. But what does is Flip himself. Honestly before these episodes i’d barely seen Flip and he’s alright. He’s not bad it’s just with this having happened just a few years ago

So i’ts really hard for him to stand out in comparison when he’s kind of generic. He’s still pretty damn loveable though. And this episode has as he drops a drum of cheese on his foot, it does nothing, eats cheese right out of the barrel which.. 

I mean at least have some sanitary standards man. Get a bowl or put it in a bathtub or something. Figure it out. But yeah it turns out his heart is also in his arm, literally on his sleeve.. something they don’t point out so it’s a subtle and well done joke. 

Anyways yeah... so this is where the weird stuff comes in. Flip is some sort of miracle of science despite in all other episodes clearly being a normal human, And I like it.. while some bits of it are gross, i’m not a gross out guy so if you like that it’ll be up your ally and I respect that. But for the most part it’s just weird, bizzare stuff I can’t help but chuckle at like Flip having gills on his leg or being able to surivive freezing tempratures while not moving at all. See this works better than the spy episode in terms of what the fuck or to a lesser extent schooled because while it is fucking bizzare.. it works and it’s just swining so hard for the fences, it hits the moon. With the other two one didn’t bring it up till the end and the other just.. suddenly annoucned Royal Woods is next to canada and that lincoln taking a boat there was feasable. This just works for me.  So Lisa takes him to the conference, with Lincoln and Clyde joining in to serve snacks and promote the food and fuel which works, I also like the gag about them being late because they argued about what Science Casual meant. Lisa shows off this monstrosity and gets praise.. and a shady scientist asking if  she can use flip for her experiments which lisa talks him into and Flip agrees to because, like his agreeing to lisa’s experiments he likes money and tasks the boys with running things.  Naturally handing a miracle of science over to a shady science lady you know nothing about backfires and lisa trying to search incognito labs just blows up the computer.. somehow. Don’t think too hard about it. But LIsa finds lily petting a rat and soon finds the rat comes from flip begging for help. And upon spying on the lab, Lisa finds that flip is basically being tourtured and feels she did no better which.. no. While she did use him as a test subject, she also did so with his full consent, and for free publicity. She didn’t harm flip as while she subjected him to a lot of crap NONE of it harmed him like Ingognito’s experiments are. This attempt at a moral dosen’t work when Lisa , while still seeing only flip for his achivments, did nothing unethical. Flip willingly signed on for this and was never once in danger. And look medical trials can be unethical epsecially when people are deseperate. I get that. But here Lisa did nothing wrong and given her usual tendency to ignore scientetific ethics, that’s a lot.  Lisa goes to the boys for help and together they all sneak in and free flip in a decent sequence using various stuff from flips. The doctor for her part, as she was planning to shoot flip up into space without a suit to see if he could surivive because evil, gets blasted up. So yeah.. this episode ended with a 4 year old, an old man whose apparently a mutant of some kind x-men or otherwise and two 12 year olds having killed a woman. 

And then they all just.. have flippees for aj ob well done. I mean yes the lady deserved it but still.. you all just killed someone! YOU SHOULDN’T BE ACCEPTING THIS. WHAT JUST HAPPENED. AND WHY DOSEN’T SNAKEBIRD HAVE HIS OWN MOVIE. EPISODE OVER. 

Final Thoughts on Blinded By Science: This one was okay. Insane, VERY insane, but okay. I’ve seen way worse, from this very season but man is it weird and man is that ending just... 

Yeah that takes it down a bit but overall really enjoyed this one, Moving on. Real behind and got four to go so

Band Together: I think I have one of my many reaction images that says it best here:

Given i’ve seen pretty much every Luna episode, she’s my faviorite and i’ve been blatant about that,  and all of them are pretty good, I had high hopes for this one. And it STARTS promisingly enough: Luna is rocking out with her band which finally has a name! The Moon Goats. Which I like a lot: Besides reminding me of the objectively awesome Mountain Goats, it fits thehir personality and also reminds me of fellow teenage garage band goat cheese pizza from Zits... I miss when that strip was about teenagers and not two old men yelling about teenagers. Metaphorically. Point is I like this and my recent scott pilgrim kick means this is even better. We also find out Scoots is a huge fan of the band. Which is fantastic. Why an old lady with questionable morals is their biggest fan I do not know. We also get a band prank and fully names for the other two: Sully, the guy and Mazy the girl. I mean their not given MUCH character, Sully likes to bash his head on the keyboard and Mazy is uh there. And that is one of the episodes downsides: Despite being the first episode with Luna’s band to NOT focus on just Sam... the rest of them, and Sam really get to do nothing. The fact Sam and Luna are together dosen’t even factor into the plot. I honestly think it’s what removes the episodes punch, that we don’t KNOW these characters and thus LUna posisbly leaving them behind has no weight.  In contrast the series actually did something similar with little build up but made it work with the episode where Leni’s friends are trying to make her choose between them: Her mall coworker friends or her school friends. While we didn’t KNOW her school friends like the mall ones, the episode took time buliding them up so we got why Leni loved both and why this was so unfair to make her choose between them. Here it’s just two well designed carboards and a sam. And without the stakes of it possibly impacting Luna’s relationship, which I don’t want obviously but at least we have a stake in at this point, there’s just.. not a lot. Plus the solutions kind of obvious.  But what’s the problem? The band performs for a big manager who only needs Luna to fill in for a professional band.  The IDEA as i’ve said is good: LUna being forced to pick between her friends and her career, and both sides not being happy about it. But it’s just.. wasted. Besides clearly being bigger than 30 minutes, apparently we needed the half hour slot for a caddy ghost, this story just feels slight. Luna ends up with the other band and the manager gets on her for acting like she does with her friends.. but she’s a 16 year old who dosen’t know any better. What’d you possibly expect? none of it just really works. She goes back, no one is suprised, and the only part that really works at all.. is the ending. After welcoming luna back , as their roadie at first and clearly it’s more of a joke, Chunk plays with the band and gets Luna’s spot. THAT is not a bad ending and while I”ll miss the big lug, it’s really nice to see the guy get a big break and Chunk is low key one of my faviorite parts of the show. But otherwise yeah, this was almost nothing and given how usually FANTASTIC the Luna episodes are, this one was a really huge disapointment. No need for final thoughts moving on. 

Seasons Cheatings: This is a quick one but only because there’s no real character stuff or bad parts, i’ts just a decent if contrived holiday episodes. It’s the annual family gift swap, and Lincoln wants a backpack for (insert thing he likes #37). That being said I DO like that Lincoln isn’t just into one thing obession wise as even with my tendency to hyperfocus due to my autisim, I have TONS of things I love and glom onto. YOu can tell just by my massive assortment of reaction images and quotes. So it’s nice for a show to for once NOT have a nerdy kid just have one hero they focus on. So it’s rip hardcore this time, with a fancy backpack. Why Lincoln didn’t just ask for it for christmas is beyond me and is the only thing that bothers me about the episode. Ohterwise i’ts pretty decent; LIncoln’s trying to cheat his way to victory by getting the right sister for the swap. Which really ends up boiling down to first LIly, since the parents will choose, but since LIly did her own gift this year, he then tries one of the older sisters since obviously, they actually take this seriously and have the money to get something nice with various shenanigans including lincoln dressing up like his own mother. Neat. It’s nothing amazing but it is neat.

 Naturally he forgets his own, and has to trade his gift to Chandler to get Lola a nice gift in time. Also Chandler is apparently Lincoln’s black market hookup ala hustler kid. I genuinely love everything about this from the fact it fits his character, to the fact him being rich means there’s a genuine way he can get the resources, to the fact that despite being rich and probably not needing to do this it still fits he’d do it anyway because he’s kind of a scamp. If they use Chandler more like this, as Lincoln’s sorta shady frienemy who Lincoln and Co and possibly the sisters go to for shady schemes and crookery, i’ll be fully on board with it. Plus it might finally squeeze liam out of the group and give us someone willing to hit rusty. So all good things. 

But we do get a REALLY sweet ending as Lily, having seen her big brudder sad, paints him a picture. We also get the sweet image up top of LIsa and Lucy having given each other the same gift. Overall not a bad episode. Not nearly as good chirstmas story wise as 11 louds a leapin, but with a shorter runtime and a tight premise it still works and is still very sweet. 

A Flipmas Carol: Another very simple but alirght one.. and ANOTHER flip episode. And another one I can speed through a bit more. Basically it’s the night before christmas and Flip is taking advantage of the neighborhoods desperation with shoddy merchandise.. and forcing Lynn to work off the debt for some accidnetal damage on christmas eve and day. I mean she is legally of working age so this is legal but it’s still sketchy. Which is Flip’s wheelhouse.  Naturally this leads to a christmas Carol Parody and the weird part as the ghosts resemble and act like the loud kids> This is never explained, it’s really weird especially since Clyde ghost refrences his therapist.. but given the louds were in there and are in there enough for Flip to know them well, same with the mcbrydes, it easily could be a guilt induced hallucination or simply the ghosts taking a familiar form so i’m not going to dicker over it. It’s weird but you know not sudden super spies, golf ghosts or childrne comitting murders weird and as I mentioned up top, holiday episodes get a little more leway with me in terms of weird shit. not by a lot but by just enough. 

So they take him through what you’d expect: The Past gives Flip a sympethatic and well done origin story: Flip had a date with the girl of his dreams, but lost out due to a comination of Scoots selling him bad goods and bad tickets in middle school and vowed never to be hurt again barney stinson styles. The present shows him the consequenceds of his actions on other people’s christmas including whatever he gave the louds to make christmas dinner having turned into some form of abomination, causing him to actually feel guilt. The final one shows him having died, buired alone with no one to care in a ditch with a pizza box and having lost everything due to his practices. It ends how you’d expect, he goes to eveyrones houses and fixes things before giving the loud kids present and clearing lynn’s deabt before that happens. Not much to really dig into here, just a pretty good specail. Both of the christmas episodes are good, and while again not as good as the first one aren’t bad themselve.s 

So yeah overall this crop was okay. No real standouts, but outside of Band Together nothing bad and even that had extra scoots, luna’s band getting a name and that cheeks suish. All in all not a bad batch feels good to be caught up. Until next time courage. 

[ray-ray-writings]

700 Friend Behind the Scene Special!

Hello there! So a little bit of back story, everything I write is written in a google doc because it automatically saves everything and I can think clearer when I’m typing in a document. Sometimes when I’m writing, I’ll get tired or get stuck or write something I don’t like. So I’ll make a note to myself of what I was writing so I can come back to it later, or write out the basic idea of what I want to happen so I can visualize it in words better, or hit enter a few times and re-write somethings. So in celebration of me hitting 700 friends I have gathered a few of those things so that I can share with you a little bit of my thought process, but also so you might have a laugh or may see where some of your favorite stories almost went. I don’t know if any of you will actually like this or actually care, but I thought that it was something cool lol. So here you go! I hope you enjoy!!!

Notes to Self/Prompts to Myself

A Dedicated and Domesticated Pig: *Note to future self so I know what I was going for. He’s making breakfast with your child on your hip. I’m thinking a daughter named something with Phil’s name maybe or maybe just a T name. Then you two are leaving for a festival in L’Manberg where Philza interacts with your daughter. And the night ends with you three cuddled up together and you’re reminiscing on how he asked you out and then it all comes full circle somehow using the words dedicated because we’re that kind of simp*

Gift of Friendship: Techno- “I made friendship bracelets”. “I don’t wear jewelry” “oh okay. I can take it back. You don’t have to wear it I’ll take it back-“ “no I will wear this until the day I die

Notes in general: There are a lot of *Insert title here* or *Insert really cool and creative title here*

There is also a lot of *Insert really nice summary here that sums everything up but is also clever*

Actually Pretty Funny: I knew I wanted to use “Tommy leave me alone” “Tommy told me you were in here crying” “That little snitch” but I didn’t know where so I made a note to use it. 

What Could Have Been or Almost Was

This has a few pieces of writing but is mostly about what I almost titled the pieces you know and love. 

Stolen Goods: I was about to retort but the sound of the nether portal activating cut my words off.

“We’re back!” I heard my younger brother call out. Techno and I walked together toward the portal to greet our brothers, but they weren’t alone. “Hey guys! Oh hey Dream,” I greeted the three, setting my chest down next to the wood I brought in earlier. “Hey Y/N/N? Get what we asked for?” Tommy asked, walking toward me. I simply stared at him and then looked at the pile of wood beside me. “No” I deadpanned. 

I then turned to my chest and quickly put my axe away. “Then what’s that?” Tommy questioned in confusion. I rolled my eyes, closed my chest and turned to him. “What you asked for dummy” “But you just said no?” “I was being sarcastic!” I exclaimed, moving toward him and slightly pushing him. “Well I didn’t know that!” Tommy exclaimed, pushing me back. “Hey! Hey! Hey! Stop pushing each other.” Wilbur demanded, “Just say thank you and move on Tommy.” Tommy huffed but said, “Thank you Y/N.” “You’re welcome Tommy.” 

“So is this how you four interact all the time?” Dream questioned, moving closer to the two of us. I let out a laugh and turned to the masked man, “Yeah. Pretty much. Sometimes we get along, but sometimes they get on my nerves.” I informed the man, while playfully glaring at 

A Hairy Situation: I had a lot of trouble coming up with a cool title for “a Hairy Situation” . It almost was like “Braided Together” or something like that but I was like, it’s about hair. It’s a situation. It’s a Hairy Situation.

Either Lean on Me or 3am conversation I don’t remember: Tommy did something. He did something bad” Tubbo admitted. I nodded to show the young man I was listening to, “Okay,” I prompted. “Tommy was messing around and he accidentally set George’s house on fire.” My eyes widened at Tubbo’s words. “His new house?” I asked in disbelief. Tubbo nodded, staring into his cup. “Dream is pissed.” He continued. “He gave me an ultimatum. He said that either we go to war or…” Tubbo’s words died on his tongue. “Or what?” I asked, attempting to gently prompt the boy. “What’s the other option Tubbo?” “Or exile Tommy.” His words hit me like a ton of bricks.

Missing You: This fic was almost titled “Radio silence” and was almost irl and was about the day that he got that prank pulled on him where everyone in his Discord was muted and not talking to him. And I almost wrote it so you’re in that call and you are participating in the prank and he just guilt trips you so hard that you unmute and are like “I’m so sorry!” 

Better Than a Dedicated Chicken was almost titled “A Funtime Festival”. But then I was like, ‘I hate that. Since it’s a sequel I want to keep a theme… Maybe something about dedication.’ and thus this was born. 

Faking Happy- I almost left it on the sad ending where Sam flies away using his trident and you collapse and sob by yourself in the rain. And then I added more to it because I was sad. 

Protect You was almost titled “Looking out for you” but I thought that might be too clunky and so I shorten it and stuff.

Wither or Not almost ended without the whole ‘techno goes to your house to comfort you’ scene at the end and almost ended in angst, but I was too sad to do that because I knew the next Techno piece I was writing was going to end in angst. 

Not Your Fault almost was going to be a different story completely than what it became. I thought a lot about how to do it but the ways I wanted to write it and the way the anon who requested it probably wanted it but I couldn’t make the prompts fit well in the way I wanted to write it. I thought about having you be on a bridge drinking alone because you had to exile your brothers and Schlatt approaches you there and you’re like “leave me alone. I hate you” and he’s like “no you don’t” and it’s a bit angsty, but then I couldn’t figure out how to fit “I had to see you again in that”. And then I thought about having him exile you and come and see you with a “I had to see you again” but then he would know where pogtopia is and we can’t have that. So then I thought maybe you’d visit him before he gets killed but then I couldn’t figure out how to fit the prompts that way either. So I finally settled on what it became. 

Chat’s a Snitch was almost titled “My New Boyfriend’s a Songwriter” and instead of being in established relationship, him seeing you sing his song would be how you two meet and he would fall in love with you and write you a song, but then that wouldn’t have really been what the request was and I didn’t want to deviate that much from the request and I think I was feeling a bit lazy that day so I wrote what it is. 

Defending Family was another one I had a hard time coming up with a cool and clever title for. At one point I considered titling it “i will physically fight you”

Crossed Lines was almost called “Hold tight” because I had this idea that maybe when Dream kidnapped you he put you somewhere high and at once point you dangle over the edge, about to fall and so they scream ‘hold tight’ and yeah. I decided not to though because I wasn’t sure how I would go about putting the reader there and getting them down. But once I wrote it due to the amount of times I said “that’s crossing a line” I decided to title it crossed lines. I think this piece is actually one of my least favorites because I’m not sure if I liked how it turned out but idk man. 

Totem Troubles was almost called “To Hell and Back” because in the request they wanted me to include hints of the story of Orpheus and Euridice but when I was unable to do that, I had to come up with a new title and I really had a hard time with that. 

The Next Step was almost called “Come Live with Me” because I loved the musical ‘Hadestown’. At first I wanted that particular imagine to have more Techno/reader scenes, but then I had a hard time figuring out how to bring up the things and then it felt too short. Then I was like “What if he just talks to Phil about it” and boom it was written. I’m still a huge musical nerd so I titled it “The Next Step” because in a Beetlejuice song two of the main characters are thinking of making a huge step in their relationship and that line is repeated over and over so I stole it…. :). Also for this one I had to literally just take a step back and write out a full ass summary because I was having really really bad writer’s block because I had no idea what I was doing. Unfortunately I don’t have that, I wish I did because it was really funny because it was a summary of the story but it was like “And so Philza’s like bro. Dude. Just tell them” and then Techno’s like “No dad. Stay out of my business” and Philza’s like “Bro. Look around at your house. You love them” 

Warming Up didn’t become the title of that piece until the very end. When I read requests I always give them a ‘working title’ that may or may no become the real title when they’re finished and ready to be posted. This one however had a title that was just a joke for myself. It was titled “The Weasel” because Y/N was weaseling her way into Techno’s home and then later his heart. 

Calling Philza Dad Drabble: When you greet him though, you always greet him with a hug usually calling out from the door way, “Dad! I’m home!” Very cheesy like. And he comes around the corner and you two hug. And then after you hug, you are like “I missed you!!!” to Phil. And Phil touches his heart and is like, “That’s so nice to hear. 

So you usually come over everyday. Everyday when you come over, you always shout out, “Dad! I’m home!” And he rushes out but there are days you don’t and so the next time you d

There was a time though that you had to go out of town for like a week and so you didn’t come over at all and both Techno and Philza found themselves missing you. So the day comes where you get home and you come barreling in the door. You can see Philza in the kitchen cooking something and he quickly turns to the door in shock. You simply grin at him and shout, “DAD! I’M HOME!!!” And he immediately rushed out of the kitchen and pulls you into a great big, warm hug which you instantly returned. “I missed you so so so much!” You announced as you squeeze him tightly. 

Warming up working description: Y/N is dying in the snow and Philza’s like “We gotta save them!” and Techno’s like “Why is that our problem?” but helps anyway and then falls in love with Y/N…. Ya know, cliches and shit

I hope you enjoyed reading this monstrosity! Would this be something you guys are interested in seeing? Like a behind the scenes version of my writing. Like I save things like this when I write them and when I have a good chuck I post them? Up to you guys, let me know!

[otpnessmess]

By this sword

Ao3 - Masterlist

Quick thing I made for @mochegato as a way to get rid of writer's block for my jasonette fic. Everyone here is like 17-18 because I obviously don't know what a canon is and will do whatever I please. Based on this post and not beta-d at all. If there are any mistakes I apologize, I wrote and posted this from my phone and the tumblr app is a bitch about formatting. Enjoy!

-

If Marinette heard Damian and Adrien snicker behind her back once again she would make sure to put salt instead of sugar on their cookies the next day.

The Wayne family had been visiting Paris for a business deal and the two youngest sons had been adamant on having spare time to see the superhero duo of the city.

The year before, the miraculous users had requested help from the Justice League to bring down Hawkmoth, and the Gotham vigilantes were the ones sent to help. Having to work as a team brought the four teenagers together, and they had become very good friends by the time the job was done. Now they kept in contact over calls and video chats and were very good friends… Mostly.

Marinette didn't know why, but Tim didn't seem to like her very much. They had been close while working as heroes but once they started hanging out outside of the masks, his entire demeanor changed.

Due to her usual tardiness, Damian and Adrien had got used to Tim being really talkative with them while they waited. He was always perfectly normal until Marinette finally arrived. He then clammed up for seemingly no reason and, even though he still joined the conversation and laughed along with them, there was tension lodged on his shoulders.

This played out for several outings until Adrien had enough. Even if Mari pretended not to notice it, he knew Tim's behavior was hurting and confusing her, and no matter what she did to try and make amends with him, it seemed like it was never enough. She didn't know what she had done to warrant such a dismissive attitude from the guy who was fighting alongside them just some weeks prior.

His protective instincts kicked in even more when she confessed to him that she had started liking Tim, but was being discouraged by his attitude towards her.

The blonde boy managed to convince Damian to talk to his brother, as he was much more likely to coax something out of him. And it proved to be the right choice.

The youngest Wayne called Adrien in the middle of a laughing fit and it took five minutes to get the information out of him. Tim admitted to being like that because he liked Marinette too, he was just unbelievably shy and accidentally got the wrong message across. Damian couldn't believe his brother could be the greatest detective in the world and the dumbest person in the planet at the same time.

After taking the time to make fun of the black-haired pair, they finally agreed that they had to do something to get those two together because, evidently, they would never be able to do it on their own.

The dynamic duo did try their hardest to help them notice each other's feelings, but they failed so many times they almost called off the mission. The only motivation they had to keep going was the fact that the older Wayne didn't entirely shut off around Mari anymore. They had seen him engage in great conversations with her when she had managed to coax him out of his shell for a bit.

Those moments were short-lived, as Tim took a couple minutes to remember who he was talking to, but worth it in the matchmakers' opinion, so they didn't give up. Which brought them to their latest scheme.

Marinette frowning at them with a rapier in hand was a fairly scary sight, but their plan was foolproof. And even if they didn't manage to get the lovebirds together, at least they would get to laugh for a while.

The idea was simple. Step one: invite the brothers to join their fencing class while they're in Paris and make Marinette lose a bet. Step two: get her to face Tim in a duel and say some carefully chosen words to him as a punishment. Step three: profit.

Damian and Adrien wanted to pat themselves in the back for thinking of this, it was a win-win situation. For them, obviously.

Mari didn't see how this would make Tim want to talk to her more but a bet was a bet, and she was no sore loser. She spotted him standing on one of the mats, watching some of her classmates practicing, and took a deep breath before approaching him.

"Congratulations Tim!"

The boy turned around with a startled expression and accidentally bit his cheek when he saw who it was. "H-huh?"

"We're engaged!"

The bright smile in Marinette's face paired with her words made him pale slightly and almost drop his rapier. "Excuse me- what? I… I-"

"In combat. En garde!" Just like the snickering duo had instructed her she drew her sword from her belt and pointed it at Tim.

She then witnessed the color coming back to his cheeks… And not stopping there. He now resembled a very ripe tomato as he mirrored her stance.

"O-oh, right… That kind of engaged… "

He wasn't expecting her to hear his mumble nor pick up the disappointed undertones in his voice, but it seemed like she had.

Her arm lowered slightly when he said that, and a blush had started to creep up her cheeks as well.

"Uh… Yeah. That kind of engaged. W-why? Did you… Want…?"

What?! Why did she ask that??

In the back you could hear the scheming duo laughing their asses off at their awkward display, which only made them get even more red in the face.

In the meantime, Tim had finally processed her question and immediately panicked. "W-what!? N-no! No way!"

His nervous scoffs weren't very convincing but Mari didn't seem to question them, much likely in an attempt to make the situation fly by as quickly as possible.

Tim seemed to be nervous about what he had said, though, and was looking at her with fear in his eyes. Marinette wished to be able to make it go away so badly, and reassuring him was probably the best way to do it, right?

"Oh good, yeah… Um… Me neither, heh."

She gave a nervous laugh and stole a glance at her friend in front of her, expecting him to appear relieved. Instead, he was barely suppressing a tiny grimace, which made her incredibly confused.

Before she could ponder what she had done wrong, however, Adrien had run out of patience in the back.

"Just kiss already!!"

Oh God, Marinette was going to kill him for sure this time. Why would he even say that? He had just outed her crush in front of the guy she liked!

She gathered every last ounce of strength she had in her before turning to meet eyes with Tim. If she was expecting rejection or disgust in his face, the longing in his eyes caught her off guard.

They crossed gazes for a second, then two, then three.

Searching, questioning.

Then they finally found it.

Understanding transformed their expressions, leaving them to gape at each other.

Oh.

Damien and Adrien were hollering and whistling in the background trying to get their attention, but right now they only had eyes for each other.

-

Two months later, Adrien would take the credit for being the one that got them together by screaming at them. It would earn him a smack on the head from Damien, who was not about to allow him to simply disregard his interventions and discredit him. On the seats in front of them, Tim and Marinette would chuckle and share a kiss, both laughing at their idiotic friends.

-

I promise to stop procrastinating and to start working on the next chapter of my fic soon, but I just thought this was such a great prompt! Hope you liked it <3 - Lis

[sennextheassasinkingoflight]

Red Pens and Keyboards

For those of you who prefer this format to having to click a link and go to Ao3.  Cursed Coffee Shop AU. Lancewain Rated T for minor swearing and suggestive themes.  Summary: Lancelot is a new writer. Gawain is his editor. They meet outside the office for once at a nook in the wall coffee shop. A little bit of chaos ensues. Percival is the the one with the relationship knowledge in this one. His dad needs to ask Lancelot out already. 

Lancelot ran. He was fucked. This was the third time in as many weeks he had been late for meeting his editor. It hadn’t been a common occurrence until lately. For months he had been on time, but the last few weeks he’d been feeling increasingly more inspired and had been staying up later and later to write. That was in his opinion a valid reason for being late of course. He had overslept. Again. He was currently working fulltime and then some during the day and when he returned home at night he wrote. Last night he had been especially inspired, the same way he had been the last three times he’d been meant to meet with Gawain. He didn’t think too deeply as to why the inspiration was linked to these nights, but he certainly would not push it away. 

He jumped over a large puddle in the middle of the sidewalk and nearly slipped. Righting himself he carried on, satchel thrown over his shoulder and nose tucked into his greying scarf. Grimacing he hoped that the rain wouldn't ruin the manuscript and his laptop. He’d forgotten his umbrella because of course he did. He ducked around the corner and, avoiding the drip edge of the shop roofs, bolted towards the coffee shop at the end of the block. The problem, he mused, with being a brand new and unknown author is that it didn’t provide an income that was live able. He had self published and had a meager following. Then one day a man had called and offered to take him on Pro Bono. It was a risky move for Gawain to have taken and Lancelot was certain this would be the last straw. Stopping outside Nemos he gathered himself, rain splashing on his face. He looked through the water speckled window for the brown haired man. He couldn't help but smile to himself when he saw him tucked in the back corner table. Gawain was well put together and wearing that green sweater that absolutely did not highlight his eyes or make him look a hundred times more attractive. Lancelot blushed to himself and shook his head. He was half an hour late and looked like shit in comparison. He had thrown his hair hastily into a bun, and knew he had circles that rivaled a raccoon's mask ringing his eyes. Taking a breath and setting his features to polite indifference he entered the store with his shoulders squared. If he was going to lose this gig, better do it with dignity. He approached the table where Gawain was tapping away on his laptop. Swallowing he opened his mouth to speak. Gawain, of course, chose that moment to make eye contact with him and smile. The words died in his suddenly very dry throat. His composure breaks just a touch with it. “Over sleep again?” “Uhm.” He sounded very dumb but Gawain just laughed. “The writing bug got you last night, then?” “Definitely.” He said sitting in the adjacent chair. Why wasn’t he getting his ass chewed?  “I apologize. I’ve wasted your time.” “Nonsense. It happens when one works in our business. I can edit just as well here as my office so I’ve been working. Besides, you're my only meeting today.” The editor said putting his laptop aside. “Did you bring the printed version for me?” “Just like you asked.” “Very good, go grab some coffee so you look like you could use it.”  Lancelot nodded and left the table as Gawain set to work with his pen. He wondered if the man knew how adorable he was with his face screwed up in concentration, pen resting idly against his very kissable lips. Lancelot rubbed his face. He really needed some caffeine. That was his editor. Nothing more. Despite his serious caffeine addiction, Lancelot did not drink coffee. Tea and energy drinks were his go to, and this being a coffee shop changed nothing. He ordered a hot extra strong, meaning very bitter, black tea. He couldn’t be bothered to care what kind, or brand, only that it was strong. He rubbed his numb fingers together in a poor attempt to regain blood flow. It stung when he was handed the almost too hot cup of tea. He lifted it to his lips and thought better of it. He did not need to scald his tongue and make a fool of himself. The embarrassment of being late was enough. Turning back towards the table he stopped. There was a young boy engaged in conversation with Gawain. He recognized him from the photos in his office. The office that they currently were not meeting in. He brushed the thought aside to be evaluated at a later time and worked his way back to the couple. “How much longer?” The boy asks as though it’s an innocent question. “You’ve got somewhere to be?” Gawain is far from moved by the question, eyes barely leaving the papers in front of him. “No, but I'm bored.” He stretches the “r” and lands hard on the “d”as if to emphasize his point. “You asked to come with me Percival.” And that must be Gawain's dad voice, because the man sounds about as done as done can be with this line of conversation. At least he assumes he's the boy's father. “I know. But really this place is bloody awful, it smells like burnt coffee.” If one's voice could sound like an eye roll that was definitely it. “Percival!” Even Lancelot straightens his spine at the stern tone. “Sorry.” He wants to laugh, the boy isn’t wrong so he bites his lip and smiles, tucking his nose back into his scarf. Quietly so as not to interrupt the conversation, but definitely noticed he sets his drink down and pulls his laptop out. They have a system, Gawain edits, he writes, then he makes those edits on the digital copy. But Gawain likes him to be present for the editing, which is why they go chapter by chapter. He promises that he will read it all at once when it's finished as a final edit and continuity check and that's good enough for Lance. He isn’t the editor after all.  Gawain sighs and it brings him from his thoughts. He looks up from the login screen he's been staring at. He should do that eventually. “Lancelot, this is Percival, Percival meet Lancelot.” “Nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand and the boy takes it politely. “You're sure this isn’t a date? Because you never meet people outside your office.”  Lancelot feels his face burn and pointedly doesn’t look at Gawain. That is definitely interesting knowledge to possess. The silence that follows lasts a beat or three to long. “I am technically working. And for the record Percival, dates don’t always occur by going out .  Now, we have work to do, so here is my laptop, you know the rules, fix your boredom.” The boy rolls his eyes and takes the offered electronic. “Sorry about that.” Gawain murmurs halfheartedly, eyes cast at the manuscript before him, pen twirling in his fingers, and face unmistakably flushed. “That's alright. He’s your son, right?” “Adopted, yes. His parents were good friends of mine.” “I’m sorry.” “Thank you. He seems to be adjusting well.” He tracks Gawain's gaze to the dirty blond boy and smiles. “He seems like a spit fire.” “He is. With a foul tongue at that.”  They share a laugh over it. Lancelot changes the subject after. He’s a little unsure where the boundaries are and decides to play it safe by speaking about work. “There's two chapters there… I managed a full chapter last night, and then some.” “That's impressive. How much sleep did you end up getting then?” “Uhm… I think four hours or so.”  He squirms under the scrutiny of Gawain's gaze, and withers at the deadpan admonishment that he receives. “It's a wonder your heart doesn’t give out, between your caffeine addiction and lack of sleep.” He nods. There isn’t an argument in his favor. Swallowing he starts again, “If we don’t get through it all that's fine. I just figured I would bring it since I have it.” “I’m grateful you did. One chapter never seems quiet enough. Reminds me of some of the stories I read online. I may be an editor, but I am highly impatient when it comes to stories I enjoy.” “Online, as in self published stuff? Or… fanfiction?”  Gawain tilts his head and smirks, “Both.” “Oh my god. Is that how you found me?”  He panics, heart racing in his chest as he thinks about everything he's ever posted. Maybe his pseudonyms hadn’t been different enough if Gawain had found him. Or maybe he hadn’t put it together that the Weeping Monk and The Gray Monk were the same writer. Even when he had self published he hadn’t had the courage to do so under his real name, more accustomed to running around with usernames and gamer tags. “You did self publish via Amazon. And I am always looking for good writers, Monk.” He wants to die. He can feel the burn of embarrassment spread up his neck and slither across his cheeks. He doesn’t know if Gawain knows but that doesn’t stop his brain from running down every possibility in 10 seconds flat. And if he didn’t put it together he sure as hell could now. He’d as good as admitted that he writes for fandoms. Gawain takes mercy on him and chuckles lightly before turning back to his work. Horrified, Lancelot takes a long drink from his still too hot, very bitter tea. Today has been insane and it's only 9:56. He needs to go back to bed. He licks his lips and turns to his laptop. He needs to write. He’s certain that if he can just bury himself in the world he has created for long enough the embarrassment and stray thoughts about asking Gawain out will leave him alone. With some effort he manages to zone out of the coffee shop around them, the sounds and smells fading into the background. His tea goes cold while he works. Patrons have begun flooding the shop for the lunch rush and he doesn't notice it, nor does he notice the muffin that's sitting beside him now. What he does notice is that his character's love interest is starting to resemble his own quiet vividly. Angrily he highlights the section and deletes it with a growl. Can’t have that. What would Gawain think? He has no idea what Gawain's preference is, and the other man hasn’t given much in the way of indication in the matter… not that Lancelot is great at picking up on it anyways. He starts the section over. He focuses on the click clack of his keyboard and writes Gavin slightly differently. It’s not working and he sighs defeated. He should really change the name too. This is his introduction chapter. Gawain hasn’t seen it. There's still time. He’s about to stand and stretch, take a drink of his tea and ask about Gawain's progress when all movement in Nemos stops. “ Why do they have a magic portal in the bathtub? ” Gawain's shocked tone is loud enough that he recoils away from it. He makes eye contact and sucks in a breath. Have Gawain's eyes always been this green? They are shiny with water. Was he going to cry? Laugh? Wait there was a question he was probably supposed to answer. “Uh, comedy? Magic?”  Gawain actually glares at him, and he takes a slow measured drink from very cold tea. That was apparently very much not the right answer. He swallows with difficulty, because how can those eyes be this distracting right now. He ignores the spike of arousal it sends down his spine. Nope. This is very much not the correct environment for this. He looks around the room casually. “Lancelot?” “I wrote myself into a corner and needed a convenient way for my protagonist to escape. It seemed clever when I wrote it. Apparently not.” He shrugs and turns back to his laptop. “I can fix it later, when I have more sleep in my system.” “I, no. I,” Gawain reaches across the table and grabs his wrist. He looks up at the man, hurt must be written on his face, because Gawain frowns at him. “I think it’s brilliant and very funny. I just was so unprepared for it. The rest of the book has been so serious and the magic has been all designed for the purposes of combat. I’m concerned you’ll need to go back and fix that or offer an explanation in the following chapters.— “ Gawain's hand is surprisingly calloused and very warm against his own inherently cool skin. He tries not to focus on the point of contact but can't help it. He desperately wants to turn his hand over and hold the others more correctly. He knows Gawain is telling him something important but he can't seem to get his mind to follow what's being said. The contact is a bit much, more than he has had in some time and he is loath to do anything that might break it; so, he nods hoping that it's sufficient for whatever Gawain has just asked. He knows his throat won't push out the air required for speech, even if he willed it with all his being. He tilts his head and licks his lips and gets lost in Gawain's gaze. He has no idea at all what is being said now and can’t seem to get his mind to focus. Percivals' voice is what finally gets his attention. The boy is all attitude when he speaks. “Not a date? You two look like you should be kissing each other senseless. Holding hands and all. You're so embarrassing Gawain. Can I have the power cord, it's been hours and the damn thing is going to die.” Slowly he comes back to himself and glances down at his arm. Gawain rubs his thumb over the skin on the back of his wrist, exposed from removing his jacket at some point, and then pulls away. “If you ask politely.”  Gawain says, unfazed save for the slight pink tinging his neck. “Fine, Can I please have the power cord for the laptop, Gawain?” The boy says rolling his eyes and giving a full body shrug. It’s not polite but Gawain's eyes are full of amusement as he digs in his bag for the cord. “Alright, here.” Gawain hands it over, from the depths of his bag. Gawain watches the boy go, and turns back ready to say something but Lancelot is quicker. “Whose muffin?” “Oh, huh, uh  yours if you want it. I got one for Percival and I a bit ago and figured you hadn’t eaten.” Gawain laughs out sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, uh, you guessed correctly. Thank you.” He pulls the muffin closer with an awkward smile. “Don’t mention it. I was happy too. Though I wasn’t sure what kind you liked, so I went with lemon. I thought it might compliment the tea.”  He follows the casual gesture with his eyes, and flicks them back to the others face. “It’s one of my preferences. You guessed correctly. You seem to be on a streak for that today.” “That’s good.” Gawain says with a wry smile, all his confidence seeming to leave in an instant. Lancelot frowns. He doesn’t think anything he said should have that kind of effect. He tears a piece off of the muffin and chews it slowly, noting the way Gawain tracks the movement. Feeling a little like prey under the others gaze he manages a weak, “You didn’t poison it did you. I mean if my writing is that bad…” He trails off as the other snorts. Good, this is better. He doesn’t like it when Gawain frowns; it doesn’t suit him at all, and he definitely has too many lines from doing it too often. Gawain shakes his head and smiles at him. “Nothing of the sort. I enjoy the eccentricities of it. I was just thinking…” “About?” He takes another bite to fill the silence, and again Gawain tracks the movement and suddenly Lancelot thinks that he wasn’t wrong about the times he glanced up and thought he’d been being watched. It had happened a lot in the office, but more today. “If I’m three for three.” “That depends on what you're guessing.”  He shrugs and takes a drink of tea, grimaces from the bitterness. Cold tea always seems more bitter to him than it does when it's hot. He waits patiently for Gawain to supply his guess. The man's face changes emotions several times in the process. He opens his mouth and closes it several times, frowning and then focusing, like a fish out of water. He’s finished both his muffin and his tea by the time Gawain finally say’s what it is he wants to say. “I’m guessing that if I asked you out you’d say yes.”  Gawain stares him down, and Lancelot for his part does not let his emotions get the better of him. He keeps his face stoic and posture rigid. “That depends.”  Gawain swallows and he follows the bob of his Adam's apple with hungry eyes. Lets them linger at Gawain's collar for a moment and then brings them slowly back to his eyes, lingering on his lips momentarily; predatory where before he had been prey. “On?” Gawain asks a waver in his voice. “If you’ll make me breakfast.”  No one said he was good at flirting. “I think I can arrange that. Someone has to make sure you eat more than caffeine and sugar.” Amusement sparkles in his eyes. “Hmmm…. I think that depends on if you like me as a member of the undead or not.” “Being dead could have some, how shall we say, negative effects.” The suggestively raised eyebrow does it for Lancelot. He feels his composure fracture as he hangs his head and laughs. Any chance of continuing their work is gone with it, lost in the early afternoon chaos of their favorite coffee shop.

[alexamericus]

I did the thing

So I did the thing. I wrote an itty bitty self indulgent self insert piece for Nightwolf. Inspired by doing two back to back 12-hour shifts at work on surgery days. I’m beat and fairly sore from getting my ass kicked by a massive baby of a husky, but today I have the day off and was able to bust this out really quick despite the writer’s block.

I honestly don’t think it’s that good; it’s pretty much a very short slice of life piece that I wrote in about an hour or so, but I am my worst critic in that I am hypercritical of my writing and it’s probably why I haven’t been able to write in so long. I have some other ideas that I’ll get to at some point. And who knows? Maybe the fics will get longer. It’s kind of dependent on my work hours, how exhausted I am, and how badly I got my ass kicked by huskies.

Now for the fic before I start regretting my choices:

It was late at night when she returned to her apartment; close to nine. She pulled into the assigned parking spot near the door to her apartment and stumbled out of her car, bringing her bag and lunchbox with her. She has just finished her twelve hour shift at the veterinary clinic where she worked as a veterinary technician. It was a surgery day, so it was already hectic, but the second doctor working that day was still taking rooms and was fully booked. Alex was in charge of labs and making sure everything was set to go for the surgeries and dentals; so between running all the bloodwork and other samples for the day, setting up the surgery suite and dental table, and occasionally assisting a doctor in a room - she was exhausted. Thankfully, she had the day off tomorrow and had no plans on doing anything or going anywhere. She had a twelve hour shift yesterday (which, coincidentally, was also a surgery day) and was ready to do absolutely nothing but watch television or play video games.

She nudged the door open as quietly as she could and tiptoed inside. She knew that her boyfriend Grey Cloud (known as Nightwolf to most) and her cat Ghost were probably asleep in the bedroom. She did her best to quietly unpack all of her stuff and put it away before rushing through a shower and crawling into bed, hopefully not waking either of them up. Fighting back loud yawns, she went into the kitchen to put away the lunchbox and ice pack, depositing her bag onto the couch on her way there. She’d take care of that cluttered mess later.

As she was moving about trying to put everything away, she heard the telltale “mrrah”s of her cat excitedly greeting her. Alex looked around for the fluffball and saw her coming down the hall, the feline increasing her pace once she realized the person that rescued her from the streets had finally come home. For her longer shifts, Alex frequently left before the sun completely rose, especially during the colder months, and oftentimes didn’t get back until well after dark, leaving Ghost home alone for most of the day.

Alex knelt down onto the floor, knowing that Ghost would refuse to be quiet (or even start meowing louder, potentially waking Grey) until she gave in and gave her affection or kitty cookies. As she ran her hand through Ghost’s soft fur, the cat almost immediately went quiet and started purring and drooling out of happiness, even placing her front paws on Alex’s legs to stretch up and rub against her face.

Wiping the cat slobber away, she picked up the fluffy cat and exited the kitchen only to walk past the corner counter and find that a large person was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall. The figure reached over to the opposite wall and slid the light switch up just a small bit so the lights would turn on, but remain dim enough to not blind everyone. The man had a soft yet tired smile on his face that made Alex feel bad almost instantly.

“I woke you up, did I?” She said sadly. It was bad enough that Grey sometimes insisted on staying up later than he normally would to wait for her to come home after a longer or later shift, but it felt worse when he did decide to go to bed and not wait for her and she would wake him up with her stumbling around. Their apartment was not big by any means and the walls were pretty thin, so sound traveled more than Alex would care for it to.

Grey’s smile widened a little as he replied, “You didn’t.” He pointed to the cat who was currently kneading Alex’s collarbone. “She did. She must’ve heard you come in and, as she had decided my chest was a wonderful bed, was practically tap-dancing on my sternum to get up and rush out the door to greet you.” He finished with a chuckle.

Alex turned her head to slightly glare at her cat, who responded by lifting her paw to gently pat her cheek and bringing her face closer to lick Alex’s chin. “Why are you the way that you are?” She asked.

The rhetorical question elicited another laugh from her boyfriend. “She loves you, that’s why. You did tame her after all.”

“She was probably already tame, just left behind or got out.” Alex countered. While yes, Grey was right in that she had spent a lot of time rehabilitating Ghost and getting her used to human interaction again, it was unlikely that Ghost was ever fully feral. She had an unregistered microchip and was most likely spayed since she never displayed any behavior to the contrary. Not to mention that, within a few days, Alex was picking Ghost up and putting her in her lap. A week after that, Alex couldn’t sit down fast enough before Ghost would practically catapult herself into Alex’s lap.

Grey shrugged, lightly pushing himself away from the wall to join his partner in the middle of the living room. “Then you helped her regain trust in humans again.” He reached over and gave Ghost some scritches on her cheek, which she happily leaned into and closed her eyes. While giving her much-appreciated pets, he looked at Alex and noted the large quantity of fur that didn’t belong to their cat clinging to her scrubs. “Nice fur coat.” He jokingly noted. “Did you have a husky come in today?”

Alex nodded. “A great big baby of a white husky with a cut on his paw that turned out to be almost nothing.” She explained, letting out a breathy laugh as she remembered having to wrangle this sixty-some pound dog with one of her coworkers to try and get the husky to sit still long enough for the doctor to look at his paw. It proved to be more difficult than any of them imagined as the husky would thrash about after a few seconds of restraint, refused to have the mildly injured paw touched, and apparently was super sensitive to needles. Alex was the main restrainer (a hilarious concept to her as she stood a laughable five-foot-two and was a whopping 110 pounds soaking wet) and had the dog nearly knock his head into hers no less than three times, was successful twice, jumped all around on her legs, slammed her against a wall, nearly kick her in the face with his back paws twice, and almost had a needle go into her eye as he thrashed about refusing to have his heartworm prevention injected under his skin by the doctor. Thankfully, he was just being, as huskies are, a big scared baby and wasn’t aggressive toward anyone. “I’ll humor you with the story tomorrow.” She let out a wide yawn. “Right now, I’m beat.”

“I can see that.” Grey replied. “Here, hand Ghost over and go get your shower. You’re sleeping in tomorrow and that’s that.” He didn’t wait for a reply as he took the cat from Alex’s arms, leaning down and giving the poor, exhausted woman a light kiss on her forehead. Alex tried, and failed, to beat back another wide yawn. Already she felt her body start to slow down and beg her to go to bed. She just knew she was going to sleep like the dead, especially if she got her sleeping aid on board.

Rubbing her eyes in an attempt to not collapse on the floor and just sleep on the carpet, she mumbled out an incoherent reply and shuffled towards the bathroom, getting herself ready to brush her teeth before hopping into a hot shower. Grey walked past her to futilely place Ghost in her cat bed and swipe Alex’s pajamas from the chair in the corner of the room, handing them off to her and closing the bathroom door before Ghost could force her way in. The fluffy feline looked up at the tall Native American man and gave him a sad meow, letting him know how disappointed she was that she couldn’t bother Alex while she got cleaned up.

“The bathroom isn’t a vortex, Ghost - she’s not going anywhere.” Grey told the cat as he bent back down to pick her up again, wincing a little as Ghost started to knead his exposed collarbone. “You need a nail trim.” He sat back down on the bed with the cat, leaning against the headboard and letting the affectionate feline lay on his chest while fighting back the need to sleep. Seeing his girlfriend so tired and watching her yawn didn’t help him at all, having been awake since four in the morning so he could see her off to work and trying to stay up to welcome her back from work. She had sent him a text close to eight o’clock saying that she was just then clocking out, but she still had to set up some things for the next day. It wasn’t uncommon for Alex to stay at work late when she was working a twelve hour shift, especially on a surgery day. He didn’t mind it at all: she was hard at work doing what she loved. Plus, the long hours allowed her to have more days off during the week so she could recover from these exhausting days.

About twenty minutes later, just as Grey was about to nod off again, he felt someone crawl into the bed next to him. Alex had snuck back into the bedroom and was in the process of crawling into their shared bed and making herself comfortable for the night, throwing the blankets over herself and all but melting into the mattress, finally able to completely relax for the day.

Ghost wriggled away from Grey and went over to Alex, meowing and sniffing at her face. The cat’s whiskers tickled her face made Alex pull a face and open her eyes, giving a displeased noise. “Your breath stinks, kitty.”

“She does get fish flavored wet food twice a day.” Grey reminded her, grinning. He turned onto his side to face her, watching her as she scrunched her noise at the smell.

“Stinky.” Alex mumbled into her pillow, hiding her nose away from the stench of Ghost’s breath. “Stink kitty. Nasty.”

“Now, now - don’t be mean.” Grey lightly scolded wrapping an arm around Alex’s waist and gently pulling her closer to him. As he did, Ghost flitted around the bed trying to find a spot to snuggle up and sleep, occasionally batting at their feet under the blankets as they shifted positions to get comfortable. She eventually found her spot behind Alex’s knees. Grey laid down on his back and let Alex scoot closer to him, snuggling up to his side once she found a comfortable position, placing her hand on his chest - just over his heart - while he wrapped his around her shoulders, giving her a small hug. Alex gave a low, satisfied hum as she basked in the warmth he always seemed to radiate, beginning to drift off.

Grey rested his head against Alex’s, brushing his thumb against her shoulder. “Get some sleep.” He said softly, giving her one more kiss on the forehead. “You earned it.”

There was only a hum for a reply as Alex snuggled against him, nestling herself in his embrace. Grey used his free hand and tugged one of the blankets further up to provide her with more warmth and comfort, a soft look on his face when he saw it was the blanket she had made for him as a Christmas present. Sighing at the fond memory, he looked over to her and watched her as her eyes began to close.

Just before she slipped into her dreams, Alex softly said, “I love you Grey.”

Grey smiled as he felt his heart swell a little bit. “I love you too.”

[hallie-fics]

author spotlight - still_i_fall

He wants to forget how it felt to be hers for just one second.

- remember it’s all pretend @in-my-head-i-do-everything-right

one of the most prolific writers in the hallie fandom, @in-my-head-i-do-everything-right (still_i_fall) has graced us with classic after classic. i had an absolute blast talking with her, and hope you all enjoy the interview!

q&a

Hey! Thanks again for including me in this! Very excited to answer the questions. I love talking about myself. 

Favorite of your stories (and why)

I almost got stuck on this question. I really want to say remember it’s all pretend because I am so incredibly proud of that one. It was the first multi chapter fic that I ever properly finished and I feel like that really means something to me. I also really love that concept, and how it was able to fit in slowburn and enemies to friends to lovers and mutual pining plus a million other little tropes. And, most of all, it was really fun to write. It happened really easily. It’s something I’ll go back to sometimes if I’m ever in the mood to reread my own work. 

But I also love this new thing that I just wrote called i just wanna dance with you. I think if I can pull it off, it could be something really amazing. I was able to write the first chapter in about a week and had a ton of fun doing it. And I really love writing Harry’s pov and just switching things up a little. Ugh, I really love the idea of hallie meeting/knowing each other as little kids and I think that’s pretty apparent in these two fics. 

Easiest story to write

I’ll stop the world (and melt with you) happened really quickly which I guess qualifies it as easy to write. I thought it’d be more difficult just because so much of it is dependent on canon which is something I’m not entirely used to, but it ended up going to fast. I think somewhere I still have a page of notes on that Prom episode and everything that happens to Allie and Harry. I really wanted to include pieces of dialogue from the show. 

I also think it was because I used to do this thing when I was bored where I’d think about who I’d want to be trapped in a Groundhog day like loop with and what’d I’d do. It was just this recurring thought/ daydream I had when I was younger so it’s definitely a situation that I’ve thought through a little. 

Hardest story to write

The taste, the touch, the way we love has been a pain in the ass to write right from the start. Sometimes it’s really fun, but I think I’ve been sticking way too close to the outline I drew at the very start and have been avoiding writing it for too long. Sometimes I absolutely love to write it and have the time of my life, and other times I hate it. There’s not much of an in between. Still definitely want to finish it. Just waiting on that final bit of inspiration. 

Pre-writing process

I’m all about doing a full outline. Usually. With most longer fics (anything I think will be over 6,000 words), I do a full outline where I plan out the progression of the fic and specific scenes and pieces of dialogue. Usually, the plot hits me all at once and is usually the easiest part of the writing process for me. From that original outline, I usually have at least a few specific scenes fully planned out with pieces of dialogue and/or exposition. For example, for i’ll stop the world I started out the planning process with the introduction piece of the fic. That first paragraph is straight out of the note apps on my phone. A lot of the time it’ll end up being a bullet point list of main bits. I’ll use parentheses to specify the tone of a scene or little details and then use brackets for things that I want verbatim in the fic. 

But sometimes I end up with very little pre-planning. The skating au is kinda the only good example of this. I only had the roughest of outlines for that one (how i wanted the first chapter to start and end) and everything else just came together as I tried to get from point A to point B. 

What drew you to Hallie

The potential. They could have a really great story and I think that’s fun. There’s a lot of chemistry there and their dynamic is fun and, yeah, I think I’m a little too far in to get out now.

Favorite line (or lines)/ section you’re proud of

God, I have so many. Hope you don’t mind me going through them. It’s incredibly self indulgent but also gives me an excuse to go through my old works.

From the very first hallie fic I ever wrote, how you wish it would be all the time:

“And Harry's not perfect. He's not what she wanted before this all started or even really after, but everything's different now.”

Sometimes I forget about this fic, but I really shouldn’t cause there is a solid chance that this was my peak. And this line is really fun. 

From we kiss and we keep busy:

“The stars may have moved a little bit, but they’re still there, and they still look the same, and that’s good enough for her.”

I promise I’m not going through every hallie fic I’ve ever written but god I love this line. 

From i saved a picture where your hair was braided:

“It’s late nights and long talks and video games and cookie dough. It’s almost kisses, then definite kisses, and then not wanting to wake up anywhere but his bed. That’s how she starts to fall in love with Harry Bingham.”

Just that last part. That last line. The rest is just there for some fun context. Fun fact: this entire little mini fic was a desperate attempt to stave off writer's block and is based entirely around that single line in the song Donna by the lumineers. Still had a lot of fun with it, though.

From remember it’s all pretend:

“He wonders when she’ll realise that this hasn’t been pretend for him in years.    Probably never.    (He’d still run away with her.)”

“In the back of her mind, Allie wonders why she didn’t try harder to stay with Harry, why now she can only seem to fall in love in front of a camera where there’s the promise of pretend.”

“She likes to think that they’re still friends, that they’re just friends who don’t talk anymore, two people who drifted because one couldn’t handle the idea of change.”

This fic has a million little bits that I love. I could literally go on forever. It’s just full of that mutual pining angst that I live for. 

From but i close my eyes and i’m somewhere else:

“She did not mention this earlier because she was trying desperately hard to ignore it, but fuck, she’s really missed him calling her Pressman.”

“She wonders if Cassandra has any travel sized neck pillows.”

This fic is surprisingly good seeing as I don’t remember writing it at all. I was very much high on some sort of flu medication while writing this and I think that explains a lot about this fic. It’s fun, though. I really love the tone.

From the taste, the touch, the way we love:

“She starts to feel like she couldn’t avoid Harry if she wanted to (and somehow, as the days turn into weeks, she finds herself not wanting to more and more).”

“There’s saltwater in her eyes, hair, and mouth. Harry’s leaning back in it, floating. She is too. The water is blue, and warm, and the sky is clear. Sometimes his hand will grab hers just to pull her closer. When she thinks of calm, of happiness, and vacation, she’ll think of this moment.”

“They’re quiet for a moment. Maggie Rogers can be heard in the background, faded and slow. Harry’s tapping his fingers along to it on the wheel, eyes staring straight ahead. The road is lined with trees, and it all feels like home.”

“For a half a second, she thinks she loves him. She pushes that away and watches him throw wrapping paper behind him dramatically. She pushes it away and she smiles and she laughs and she tries not to think too hard about what all of this means.”

This fic definitely has its moments. I’m really excited to get the last part done and out, though. I just feel like I’ve spent too long on this fic. I want it done.

From i just wanna dance with you:

“Allie met Harry the same day Cassandra did. It was early in the morning and she was four and now, when she looks back, all she can remember from the moment is the vague outline of wild hair and a smile so bright and wide and carefree that it really can’t be anyone else’s.”

“She tries to remember that she likes skating with Will, that there’s no point in wondering what it’d be like if things were just a little bit different.”

“She lied earlier; gold, silver, bronze, doesn’t matter. Harry always looks good.”

“The first time he ever placed first in a competition, she was skating with him. He wonders how long he’ll associate the feeling of a gold medal around his neck with her hand in his. He hopes it’s not long. “

I’m so excited to finish this fic like you guys don’t even understand. It’s really fun and it feels easy to write (so far; knock on wood) and I love the concept. 

What type of Hallie stories do you like to write/read?

I only write au’s just because I think the rules are little different, everything’s just a little bit more relaxed. You’re allowed so much freedom when it’s a completely different universe and I really love that. I went through a phase recently where I was obsessed with canon divergence and this whole idea of a history of contingency. Just there being these points or moments where if one thing was just a little different, everything would’ve changed. I love that and I think that’s really apparent in my drafts/ unreleased wips. 

I’ll read anything, though. Especially with the Hallie ao3 page being so small. I do definitely have a preference still towards au’s, though.

How long have you been writing

For forever. As a kid, I’d fill up entire notebooks with story ideas. It was my favorite thing to do. When I was twelve, a teacher complimented my writing, and I think that really stuck with me. It’s just something I’ve always enjoyed doing. 

Do you ever worry about how your stories are received

Not really. A little bit with multi chapter stories just because I really want every chapter to be better than the last. I just really don’t want to disappoint anyone. 

What’s the hardest part of writing for you

The middle bits. I usually have a very clear idea of the beginning and end so it’s everything in between that I have trouble with. I think that’s why I’m so big on outlining.

Do you ever get writer's block and how do you deal with it

Oh my god all the fucking time! Right now, for example. Usually, I just try to work through it, especially if I have a project in progress. I also do a lot of reading to try to force some sort of inspiration. A lot of what I write is based on what I’m reading. I’ll also listen to music. And, recently, I’ve been making mood boards for my fics which has been so much fun. I really like looking at pretty pictures.

Biggest risk you’ve taken as a writer

Lol I don’t really take risks. I think the riskiest thing I do is post the first chapter of a story with none of the second chapter started. I do that a lot. 

Favorite Hallie trope

Reluctant friends to very good friends to lovers. Also, living together without establishing a clear relationship. I write that a lot. Mutual pining is always fun too. 

Favorite Hallie headcanon

That Harry calls Allie ‘Pressman’ which forces Allie to call him ‘Bingham’. I just think there’s something so fun about calling someone by their last name. Plus, then you get that moment when the first name is used and that gets to be significant. Oh, also that they both swear like sailors, but that’s mostly self-insert on my part.

This felt very self indulgent, but I hope it was at least somewhat enjoyable for someone. 

I am forever waiting to read whatever @in-my-head-i-do-everything-right writes next. It was great to see some of the behind the scenes and I would definitely recommend her latest release cities you’ll never see on screen.

[jeanjauthor]

This is a sad thing.  We all know that lIfe happens.  Situations and people and feelings all change.  For me personally...I was there before Crossed Genres started. 

Since this is somewhat personal, I’ll put the rest behind a cut:

The editors of CG are my friends.  We were friends coming out of Harry Potter fanfic fandom.  I first met them on the old RestrictedSection.org website forum boards, a Harry Potter Fanfic Archive that had very high standards for submission, and where my first (and both literally & figuratively biggest) fanfic was posted online.

We encouraged each other, we suggested ideas and edits, and I admired them for their sheer skill, both of them, as well as their creativity.  While we didn’t live together (Seattle area versus Boston area, over 3,000 miles apart) I considered them my friends, andeven went to visit with them for a week in 2007.

That in itself is a story.

It started with Bart having a three day period where his spouse Kay and their son were going to be out of state visiting relatives.  That meant he would have three days of uninterrupted time, which he wanted to fill with writing to keep himself busy.  He wanted to push himself, so that meant he wanted to have a word war with someone.

(For those who don’t know, a word war is like NaNoWriMo, except you’re “competing” in a friendly way with someone to see how much you can get written in a specific block of time.  Entrants in a word war may tease each other about word count totals, but it’s also done in a very supportive & encourating way.  In a way, we want to lose to the other person, even as we want ourselves to win.  Best. Kind of War. Ever.)

Anyway, I was at a point in my writing where I was stuck.  I needed something to push me through my writer’s block, so I accepted his suggestion of a 3 day word war...and to make ourselves even more motivated, we settled on a bet.  If he won, I’d give him an ARC of The Master (Sons of Destiny book 3--at the time of the word war, I was working on books 5 & 6).  And if I won, he’d give me a basket of chocolates...

...Except Bart changed the rules, and insisted (with Kay’s encouragement) that if I won, they’d instead buy me a plane ticket across country to Boston to come stay with them for a week.  I tried to talk him out of it ($300 plane ticket vs $50 fancy basket of chocolate?? C’mon, here!!), but he was stubborn.  So was I.

Either way, the weekend in specific came, and we went to work.  By the end of Friday, I beat him by roughly a thousand words, writing around 7k in a single day, with him close on my tail at 6k.  Saturday, I beat him by roughly a thousand words, this time putting out about 8k to his 7k.  Sunday...I hauled arse and wrote over 10,000 words...and he beat me by over 12,000 words.

The most I have ever written in a single day’s session (that I kept track of) was just over 15,000 words.  6,000 words is in and of itself a huge output for a day’s writing (anything over 1,000 is pretty damn good, imho), so we were both awesome that weekend.

Anyway...we tallied up all our words for all three days on Monday, exchanged numbers, and...I beat him.  I beat him by I think 253 words total?  I was honestly surprised that after his 12k+ literary ass-hauling that I’d managed to beat him, but there it was.  Bart was very disappointed not to win the Advance Review Copy (I was disappointed, too, but I Had A Plan), so he tried to tell me we’d tied.

I shot back “If it was within 100 words, the size of a 100-word-drabble, I’d count that as a tie!  You owe me some chocolate, Mister!”

Except he out-stubborned me.

He insisted I come out to Boston to hang with him and his spouse and their kid and their cats...and...well...I finally caved (tbh it didn’t take too long).  I bought my own ticket (it ended up just being easier that way, as the airlines were being putzes about having to use passengers’ first names and he didn’t know mine), but they handed me some cash when I got there...and I handed over the ARC of The Master.

Why? Well, it was only 253 or so words of difference...and because the two of them had supported me from well before my editor at Berkley offered me that first invitation to submit, let alone a four book contract after reading The Sword (book 1).

They had supported me back when I was still writing & posting chapters to my first HP fanfic, the same fanfic a certain editor at Berkley (part of The Berkley Group, part of what is now Penguin Random House) found and read and loved, which led her to following my fanfic writing in that ‘ship and, a few years later, offering me a chance to submit an original manuscript to her while I was still in the middle of writing my second-biggest HP fanfic (a reaction to HP book 6).

So I went to Boston.  And I I had a wonderful time. I even did a day-trip train ride down to NYC to visit with my editor in person (she’s a wonderful woman).  I don’t think I got any chocolate...but I did get even better memories.  Sweet memories that are now a little bittersweet, because the two of them were so loving back then...

But times change, people change, circumstances change...and change is not always a wrong thing, even if it might be a sad thing.

Bart and Kay are both my friends, and I will remain friends with each of them even after their separation.  They are truly good people, and are being careful not to demand anyone pick sides, and have their son’s best interests at heart.  I don’t know what each of them is going to do, post CG, but I wish them the best of luck with great opportunities & lots of inspiration.

Since they are mature and professional, even if undergoing a stressful change in their relationship to each other, they might someday reach a point where, post-separation, they can work with each other again without too much stress and strain.  That might mean CG could revive.  Or they may agree to let one or the other carry on once that person is in a stable situation, and may take on other co-editors.

Or Crossed Genres may stay retired for good.  I’d advise not holding our breaths, but instead breathe calmly and keep on reading, keep on writing, keep on drawing and creating and trying our best to make our world a little bit better.

CG has been an outstanding concept during its eleven-year run.  An online magazine, a series of anthologies...and some of the toughest editing standards I’ve ever faced.  I’ve had stories that got rejected, and one story that was accepted.  (”The Hero Industry” in Subversion: Science Fiction & Fantasy Tales of Challengint The Norm, 2011.)  Neither Bart nor Kay cut me any slack simply because we were long-term friends.  They didn’t slip me into their anthologies because of that friendship, and I appreciated that.

They wanted me to produce the best I could (competing against other submissions)...and when I did with that one story, they let me know it.

But for now...life happens, and things change.  Here’s hoping things change for the better for each of them, even if it’s no longer something that will happen for both of them as a couple.

And while you won’t be able to get more of CG’s anthologies from this point forward, either backlist or future productions...I encourage everyone to look up the authors who did get published.  You’ll find some of the best & most creative writers that way, all thanks to Crossed Genres.

[literallyprentissstwin]

Week 7: Monday, June 25th to Sunday, July 1st 2018 

bonjour y´all and welcome back to a new week of my reading list. it´s tuesday when i´m typing this and i already have like 18(!) up until now, so prepare for an ass long list hahah. 

as usual, i picked out my fav stories i read over the week. please don´t be sad if you didn´t make it on the list. it´s just a little sneek of what i read in a week, this is far from everything i read during one week, these are just the fics i loved the most. every writer is unique and awesome in their own way, so shoutout to all of us writers!!! 

i really hope you´ll enjoy the list & don´t forget to leave some love and feedback to the authors! 

- aileen 

1.) Secrets Don´t Deserve Funerals II JJ by @alittlelessthanfandomimagines 

cute perfect ugh. i don´t have any words bc i´m speechless. thank you for adding a new part, i´m in heaven. i love emma´s and jj´s relationship a lot & i really hope spencer gets his sh*** together! great work :) 

2.) Survivor - Chapter 6 & 7 by @docspencerreid 

ugh okay part 6 hurt me so so good and i just love penelope with my whole heart. it´s so so heartbreaking, but so so good. spencer broke my heart as well. and then, part 7...holy shit. why are you doing this to me? like they finally “confessed” their feelings for eachother and then BOOM. i´m crying. can´t wait for the second part :) great job :) 

3.) It Should´ve Been Me by @tenaciousarcadeexpert 

this was a fabulous fic for my challenge :) and wow wow wow my poor heart, i mean who needs a heart anyway? the angst oooooooo god, i was at the edge of my seat. SO.GOOD. i´m beyond speechless. great work & well done! i loved evrey second of it :) 

4.) Petrichor by @dontshootmespence 

cute as fuck. i love when he talks facts and statistics. beautiful, just perfect. my ice cold heart is happy. also RELATIONSHIPGOALS. 

5.) Nightmares by @doctor-daddy-spencer-reid 

this was so beautiful oh my gossshhhh. the emotions, the angst, hurt/comfort = perfectly combined. spencer is such a good boyfriend ugh and you´re so talented, i´m gonna brb crying. 

6.) When We Were Young - Spencer Reid by @playlist-reid 

aw aw are you all trying to kill me with your fics? it´s only tuesday and i already died multiple times (i wrote this part of the list on tuesday hahah). perfect, golden, a must read. 

7.) Later // Spencer Reid by @spencerthepipecleaner  

ANGST OH YES!!!!! but death ugggghhhhh....it´s still so so so good and i loved reading it so so  much! you are all so talented! 

8.) Losing Faith and Family by @alittlelessthanfandomimagines 

this is another fic for my challenge thihi. god this was so good, like you really had me. the angst was def there and i was so sad but then i read the end and ugh awww my heart. great work! 

9.) What are You Doing? (Luke Alvez x Reader) by @dedeimagines 

cute cute cute. adoreable. i love me some good Luke fics and this was a really good one. also Garcia was pretty amazing in it :) well done! 

10.) Drowning by @moonlit-martyr 

masterpiece. i mean it. masterpiece. you are so so talented, this fic was so well written & so good! every emotion was covered. god, so good! 

11.) A Secret Rival by @abcreid 

the end = savage. also i loved how spencer always interrupted her = jealous????? the team was hilarious. great job! 

12.) Sleepless Nights // Spencer Reid by @itsmeedee 

DAD!REID!!!!! *runs around screaming in 20 different languages* this was everything & more. cutenesss overload. though the flashbacks make me sad, please tell me you didn´t kill off the baby´s mom ugh. 

13.) Article of Faith - Chapter 16 & 17 by @dontshootmespence 

aw it´s still so underrated, GO READ THIS SERIES I BEG YOU. okay so part 16: this moment between PG and Pretty Boy was everything. also the relationship between Billiw and Reid makes me happy; they are so cute fml. part 17: he goes to visit the team ugggh. and also the reference to the donuts and when emily came back omg. i like how he continues to support her and how he nevertheless shows interest in what she is doing although he might not like it. such a good bf. i love it so much! great work! 

14.) Chinese Takeout by @inkstainedfanfics 

i loved this fic. it was so so cute and so well written. the end tho :) great work! 

15.) Coffee by @therealtrashhere 

cute cute cute. also, the team was hilarious. can I have someone in my life who also brings me a cup of coffee everyday? maybe spencer himself? thank you! loved it a lot :) 

16.) Number One by @ionlyreadfivebookslastweek 

you had me at angsty. like i´m always there for angst. no matter what. this was so good, like for real. but please don´t fight babes :(((((

17.) Infiltrated: Part 7 by @stunudo 

i think it was beyond time that i add this series to my list. i just needed to do some catching up first, before adding it and let´s just say that this series deserves an award. it only gets better and better from part to part. it sometimes gets confusing but just bc i am so dumb, but it´s so good. go read it! 

18.) question for question by @uncomfie 

you are literally the queen/king of the derek morgan fics. you´re so so good and talented, it hurts. teach me please! i loved it so much ugh. i love a protective derek morgan and i miss him a lot. great work :) 

19.) I´m Sorry by @xocriminal-minds-imaginesxo 

this was a fic for my challenge and i loved it so so much. the angst, omg. my heart ugh. aaron boi ugh what are you doing? but seriously, this boy is too precious for this world. he always wants to protect everyone from this cruel world. you can only love him. the end holy shit. i did not expect this. i hate scratch. well done! 

20.) target - part two, three & four by @uncomfie 

ok folks, if you´re looking for a really good series, this is it! recommend 10/10. this is giving me life istg. one of the best angst series i read so far. they are one hell of a couple, i´m in love. it breaks my heart to see derek so devasted and lost and helpless, my poor baby. but the end was making up for everything. the suspense, and angst, i´m in heaven. def gonna reread it soon. go check it out. it´s so good! well done! 

21.) Long Day? (Spencer x Reader) by @ourhappylies 

cute cute cute. i loved the relaxed reactions of the team & how they all already knew. profilers ahahahhaa. also spencer is so cute, it hurts. well done :) 

22.) Broken // Emily Prentiss by @itsmeedee 

this has been an entry for my challenge. i gave you my fav prompt i had on this list and you used it so well. omg you played the ian doyle card. when i read it, i swear my heart stopped for a minute. my heart broke for emily omg, how could you do this to my baby? preach you for an amazing fic. i loved reading it a lot. the end was soo goood! recommend 10/10!!!

23.) Happy Ending by @xocriminal-minds-imaginesxo 

cramps are shit, worst part of these special weeks yk. but it was so cute and aww spencer, how are you a genius hahahahhaha. also this convo between emily & Y/N and the sarcasm, i´m loving it. the end was so cute, my heart melted. 

24.) Thalassophobia I Matt Simmons x Reader by @youvebeenwinchesterd 

yes, an amazing matt fic <333 there was a little bit of angst, a lot of suspense and some cute shit at the end. the perfect mix. my emotions were in overload. this was so good. i really liked it. matt is so cute. well done :) 

25.) Please be okay (Spencer Reid x Reader) by @dedeimagines 

angst & fluff = AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. my poor spencie. he´s so scared :(((( but the end turns out to be happy thank god! it was a shorty, but really good !:) 

26.) High School Rom-Com by @xocriminal-minds-imaginesxo 

angsty stuff omg. i´ve been blessed this week. the team is so adoreable and caring and comforting omg. also, I loved Luke a lot in this fic. the end made me swoon :)))))

27.) Have It All by @ionlyreadfivebookslastweek 

relationship goals, for real. the reader is so understanding & supportive. caring. this was so freaking cute. i can´t cope. 

28.) Redamancy Pt. 3 by @xocriminal-minds-imaginesxo 

i love this tension between Ella and Luke. and i also love penny in this story a lot. also protective luke is my religion. this is so good! 

29.) I Love You >> Spencer Reid by @eideticreid  

wtf this was so freaking cute???? i´m shook. like really. was this even real? i also cried happy tears while reading this. well done! very well written:) 

30.) A Reunion // Aaron Hotchner by @literallyreid 

another fic for my challenge, y´all are blessing me with your talent. okay, this was really good. like really really. i loved reading it a lot. it also made me miss Hotch an extra lot more, but that´s okay. great work :) 

31.) eleven blocks by @uncomfie 

she did it again. another awesome derek fic. why are you so good at this????? i loved reading this a lot. it was perfect ugh. the end was everything! well done :) 

32.) Alive or Not by @abcreid 

and another fic for my challenge yey :) this was so perfectly angst holy hell. the open end, omg really???? btw i think i swear too much but i can´t help myself. oh and btw your english is really good, so don´t worry!!! :) 

33.) Jealousy by @boywondxrreid 

this was so good. i love how blind reid is. the team was so cute and supportive, understanding and caring. also reid at the end, worrying about the reader. but i´m happy everything turned out well :) 

okay, this has been this weeks list! i really hope you liked it! leave some love to the authors and their stories. we´ll see each other again next sunday! have a good week!

- aileen 

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

A gift for you

It’s irritating when you have writers block. Much worse whwn you have writers block with the fanfiction you wrote of someone else’s fanfiction. How dare you be so inspiring.

(Note from DW: I have no idea why the formatting is showing up weird on the dashboard. Click through to my blog and it all looks perfect!)

+

June

It had been an easy day at work. Jordan had taken on the bulk of the calls and Romero was quite adept at paperwork; between the two of them John was unsure he’d ever have to work a hard day again. He had a feeling that was the point.

“Hey you,” Mel said opening the door, two mugs in her hand.

John smiled. “Hey you.”

He took the mug from her and made to move past her but her hans came up to rest lightly on his chest. John frowned.

“We’re having a small situation. Very small, like a two feet tall situation,” Mel said gently. “Nothing to overly worry about but…”

There was a shout followed by a thump inside the house. John peered into the house to spot a child running through the hallway with Allison following it. John raised an eyebrow at Melissa.

“Tiny situation.”

+

Nadia.

That’s what the little gold bangle on her wrist said. Engraved on gold. Expensive. Loved.

John searches very carefully on the database, no Nadias missing.

Allison is making cheesy pasta and Nadia is singing some sort of song along with her, flour is everywhere.

John broadens his search a little bit, looking for missing kids from sites of accidents, or crime scenes.

“She just appeared, screaming in Scott’s bed,” Melissa said. “Liam said the place smelt like wet rain on hot tarmac.”

“Petrichor,” John interjected absently. Melissa gave him a look. A look that said you’ve interrupted me and how did you know that?

He’s been spouting a lot of random useless information recently.

He has no real idea where it comes from.

“She had a broken arm and latched onto Malia like a limpet - “

“Malia?” John asked incredulous.

Melissa rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to get to work on time?”

“Sorry,” he muttered sheepishly.

“Nadia liked the smell of Malia. Malia liked the smell of Nadia. They’ve been adorable. Allison came over an hour or so ago.”

“Wait, Nadia liked - Nadia is - “

“A tiny werewolf. Yes. The bone had to be set though. Deaton says she won’t heal like a grown up, won’t shift, won’t have super strength. She has smelling and hearing. She’s got a cast on. That’s about it.”

Melissa handed John her empty mug.

“Enjoy babysitting.”

“You got anything?”

John was pulled out of his thoughts and he snapped the laptop shut, standing up from the study chair.

“Nothing yet,” John replied. Malia screwed up her face.

“She’s not sad. Just scared. Upset. Maybe…”

“Maybe she’s just lost and we get a happy ending?” John finished for her. Malia nodded, serious. “I hear you’re her favourite?”

Malia glanced over into the kitchen. Nadia has a wooden spoon and is now clanging out a beat on the worktop. Malia tilted her head to consider.

“She smells like home. Like family. I…” She turned back to John. “I’ve never felt or smelt something like this before.”

John wrapped an arm around Malia’s shoulders. Since he discovered her and Scott pulled her out of her shift he’s had a soft spot for her, a specal place in his heart for her. He used to find her curled up in the guest room, snarling, fighting for control. She would curl up and howl and cry to the moon. When morning came around she would stumble out of the room to the kitchen where John had made up hot chocolate for her. She never even flinched.

That vulnerable edge made John want to protect her from the world.

“Maybe that’s why she’s here, hm?”

Malia gave a little shrug amd let John lead her through to the kitchen. Nadia’s eyes swiveled round to them. Big whiskey eyes. Big grin.

“Mala!”

Malia grinned and hip checked Allison on her way over to the tot. Allison playfully swatted her with her spatula in revenge.

“Are you making pasta?”

Nadia nodded, beginning to babble and waving her spoon around. Malia listened intently.

“Need any help?” John asked Allison as he approached the hob.

“Uhm, table? Finding something for Nadia would be great. We had to borrow that high chair thing from the neighbours. I think it’s meant for younger ages though? But yeah, a bowl and a spoon?” Allison said brow furrowing.

John easily found some old bowls and sippy cups and cutlery from the back of the cupboard. Nadia turned her nose up very slightly at the sippy cup, but Malia put in her favourite juice so she seemed happy enough. She ate well. Then she got sleepy.

Malia and John stood in the doorway of Scott’s room. Nadia was curled upside down with her thumb in her mouth. “All tuckered out,” John said softly, staring at the little girl swamped in Scott’s bed.

“I need to go. I’ll come back tomorrow. After college. Maybe two.”

John nodded. “My day off tomorrow so don’t stress. Come when you like.”

-

John startled awake. Pitch black. Mel at work. Why - ?

His radio crackled again as panicked whimpers were broadcast into his room, a makeshift baby monitor. He blearily stood and walked down to Scott’s room. Scanning the room he found Nadia was curled up in the wardrobe crying softly.

“Nadia?” John called gently. “It’s John, I’m coming in.”

He wasn’t sure how much Nadia understood yet, but she was three or four. She could probably understand.

“I’m opening the door now,” he said crouching down and pushing the door open. Nadia was curled up in the corner, snuggled into one of the old lacrosse jumpers Scott had accumulated. “Hey kiddo.”

“Want Tato. Want Dad.”

Tato.

“I know, sweetie. How about tomorrow we sit down and we’ll figure out how to get you home?”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Nadia looked at John with her big eyes, mousey brown hair tangled all around her, moles and freckles dotted around.

“You want some hot milk? Get you ready for sleep again?”

She nodded and held out her arms. This kid was so trusting.

John lifted her and easily popped her onto his hip like a pro.

Well, he’d seen others do it so often.

He trundled down to the kitchen and started making the milk. Nadia snuggled up into his neck and breathed deeply. They sat down on the couch and Nadia fell asleep in his arms. It felt nice, it felt… familiar.

-

Melissa’s face was the first thing he saw when he woke.

“Hey you,” she said softly, kissing his nose. “Late night?”

“Nah,” he said glancing down at the tyke. “Just an interlude. Meant to put her back in her bed.”

“I may have taken photos,” Melissa said with a grin. “So cute.”

“Careful what you wish for, who knows when Scott’s going to come home with a babe in arms.”

“Ugh, no, don’t ruin it,” she said crinkling her brow. “Pop her back in bed and see if she’ll sleep a while longer.”

“Mm wake now,” came a lispy voice. “Look for dad. Look for Tato.”

John sighed and stood. “That’s right, sweetie, but first we get clothes on and breakfast. Sound good?”

“Nom nom,” she breathed into John’s neck.

“I can - ”

“Nah, you get a shower and some rest. How was the shift?” he asked as they climbed the stairs.

“Quiet. Are you sure? I am the experienced one here,” Mel said with a grin.

“I can handle it,” Johns snorted. “Neither of us have had a little lady.”

“Alright.”

+

Chris Argent showed up sometime between cereal and toast, easily saving John from the whys and upsets of a new routine.

Apparently she hated orange juice.

Now she was sitting with Rowan – a stuffed horse Chris had snagged from some storage box of Allison’s. John had the computer in front of him, while Argent cleared up the mess in the kitchen. Time for some answers.

“What’s your Dad’s name?”

“Peter.”

“And… Tato?” John asked with a hitch in his throat

“Stiles.”

So it was him.

“Where do you live?”

“With Dad.”

John sighed. He could come back to that.

“How did you hurt your arm?” he asked gently. Nadia thunked her cast against the table.

“The bad people.”

“How did you get here?”

“Dunno. Magic.”

Magic. That was a lead of sorts.

“Where are your Dads?”

“Dunno.”

“Are they with the bad people?”

She stared at Rowan and pushed her face into the toy, looking scared up at John and shook her head while shrugging.

“Okay, okay, is there anything you can tell me to help find your Dads?” John asked. She frowned.

“Want Dad,” she said. John took a calming breath as the tot suddenly launched into him crying.

“Sh, it’s okay, we’ll find them. I promise, we’ll find them.”

+

July

It was odd.

It was wonderful.

College had wrapped up for the summer and the pack had swept in and swept up Nadia like she was one of their own. Malia and Scott would take her on tiny hikes in the woods. Hayden and Lydia would watch movies and take her to adventure zone funland. Melissa would get soaked during bath time. Allison would read to her before bed. Then make goo goo eyes with Scott. Then Melissa would look at John horrified.

It was perfect.

Deaton seemed to be more interested in where she had shown up rather than why she had shown up. Seemed intent that she be kept in the McCall household.

“To be as accurate as to throw a child with a broken arm onto a bed belies familiarity with the arrival location. Whoever sent her here knows Scott. Sent her to him specifically.”

And of course any news on the serial killer Stiles and his alpha Peter?

“I’ve contacted my people Sheriff but it could take some time.”

Great. Thank you Deaton.

+

August

Kindergarten.

It came with a whole host of problems. Who do they say this kid belongs to?

There are a whole host of rumours. Concerning Scott. And it kills the Sheriff, it does, to hear people talk about his son and Allison like that but…

It easier to let people make up their own stories.

+

Maybe an early retirement was in order. He could put his endorsement behind Jordan, stay on as a weekend deputy. Be around, but just, less. It would mean more time for Nadia, and for the supernatural malarkey. Melissa was about to get that promotion, Scott wasn’t at home so that helped money wise – especially since Rafa had pulled a college fund out his ass at the last minute…

This could work.

September

Nadia was hurt. Badly. She was in the hospital. Deaton was gone the exact moment he was needed. Melissa says her vitals are all funny, the doctors can’t make sense of her. Every time he sees that little girl with her brown hair and her moles lying so still on that hospital bed, so pale and -

It’s like Claudia all over again.

“John -”

“No. There must be something else we can do. Someone else we can -”

John cut himself off because duh. There is someone else they can call.

“Have Scott text me Derek Hale’s mobile number.”

“Of course,” Melissa replied. “I think he’s abroad somewhere with Cora.”

It took hours. John sat by Nadia’s bed holding her hand in a painfully familiar way. She’s so still. It’s crazy. This girl runs rings around all of them. The most energetic little thing he’s ever seen. She can’t be this still, this quiet, this –

The phone rings.

“John? You said it’s urgent,” Derek said quickly.

“Yes, it is. We have a little girl here. Nadia. She’s four. She’s a werewolf. There was a plant in the preserve. Allison said it was yellow aconite. Scott seems to have healed fine but Nadia is in the ICU. I don’t… we don’t know how to help her.”

There was breathing on the other end for a few moments. Then talking. John could hear Cora. Then a shout.

“Did you say Nadia?” Derek’s voice crackled over the dodgy connection.

John frowned. “Yes. Her name’s Nadia.”

“And she’s four? Brown hair, moles?”

John nodded. “Yes. She appeared in Scott’s bed about -”

“Three months ago?”

“Yes.”

Derek sighed. There was more talking.

“I have her brother here.”

John’s heart swooped. “Her brother? She has a brother? She hasn’t - ”

“I didn’t know he had a sister till right now so. Yeah. She’s not a werewolf.”

John took a deep breath. “Not a werewolf.”

“She’s something else. Barry says she’ll get better on her own. You just have to wait.”

John shook his head. “That’s not good enough. She’s hurt. She’s - ”

“She’s healing. She’ll be fine. Yellow aconite just takes a while. She’s young, but strong. Like when Liam was in that car crash in a coma for a week. Healing takes energy, time.”

John took another deep breath. “Barry?”

Derek grunted. “Looks like it’s another trip back to Beacon Hills.”

“We’ll be waiting.”

+

It took three days for Nadia to open her eyes.

The longest three days of John’s life.

+

October

Sometimes John walks into rooms, a name on his lips to call but he just can’t quite remember who he was looking for. Why he even went into the room. What he was searching for.

Melissa would raise an eyebrow at him and he would snort.

He was getting old.

+

Allison grinned as Nadia pounced on her and toppled her to the ground.

“I win again!”

“Oh no!” Allison said. “I’ll never survive. Go on without me.”

“Okay!” Nadia replied running away to the barbeque.

“Oi! Don’t really leave me, you little traitor!” Allison said racing after her and picking her up. Nadia shrieked in delight.

“Down down! I want foooooooooooooood,” she pretended to howl.

“Your plate is with aunty Malia,” Melissa called. Allison carried Nadia and deposited her next to Malia.

“Lunch.”

“Lunch,” Malia replied, pushing a little plate of half burger and fries to her. She snatched it.

“How long till Barry?”

Malia brought out her phone and showed Nadia a photo. “Look he’s on a boat now. He’s getting closer.”

That seemed to placate her, for now.

John tapped Allison’s shoulder. She turned easily.

“Any news from your father?”

Allison’s face clouded. “No luck so far.”

John sighed. “Typical they choose now to have a low profile.”

“Well, that may be a good thing, right? Means we’re on the right track,” Allison said grabbing a plate. “Everyone’s hiding.”

“Yeah.”

November

“I want Dad!” Nadia screamed throwing her cup across the room.

“Nadia - ”

“I WANT TATO!”

John wasn’t sure what he did to set her off. None of the others seemed to cause these fits of rage. Everyone else got the sad tears. He always always got the tantrums, leaving John wondered what he did wrong.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH - ”

“Nadia! This isn’t helping anyone.”

“I WANT - ”

“I want him too!” John yelled back. Shit. He’s not supposed to yell back. “Nadia, I’m sorry, but if I know where your Dads were I’d bring them to you I’d -”

“Where’s Barry! I want Barry!”

John sighed, taking out his phone.

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Derek, is Barry – yes please.”

“Put her on,” came a young voice.

“Nadia, Barry’s on the - ”

Nadia leapt up and grabbed the phone straight out of John’s hand, running out the room and slamming the door to her room. John sighed. For whatever reason he seemed to miss Claudia the most in the face of these tantrums.

+

Sometimes he wonders what it’d be like to raise his own child. He holds Nadia in his arms when she can’t sleep, rocks her in a way he’s never been taught, looks at her freckles and dark hair and little upturned nose and thinks…

She could have been theirs.

+

December

“We’ll be there in an hour or two,” Derek said over the phone.

“Thank fuck,” Scott replied over the hands free. John rolled his eyes but echoed the sentiment, Nadia was getting more and more ratty as time wore on.

“I’m sure Nadia will still be awake to see you,” John replied, pulling into the parking lot of Walmarts. “We’re just about to shop. Want anything?”

“Reese’s Pieces!” Barry shouted over the speaker phone. John laughed.

“Heard.”

“We’ll see you soon John.”

“Thanks Derek.”

They hung up and John and Scott tumbled out the car.

“Any clues as to what they might want for Christmas?” Scott asked.

“Every time I ask Nadia she asks for her Dads,” John sighed. Scott grimaced.

“That’s hard,” Scott said. “Especially since…”

“Since what?”

Scott shrugged. “I noticed she started calling you grampa,” he said lightly pulling a trolley out from the isle and pushing it towards John.

John swallowed as he grabbed the trolley. “Yeah, one of the neighbours called me that, then she asked google what it meant and now… Gramma and Grampa.”

Scott grinned. “I know – I mean, we all love her, you know? From the start, I mean, it’s like she’s a part of us.”

John nodded.

“So when her Dads show up…”

John glanced over at Scott.

“I mean. They’re serial killers. And they… they lost her.”

“Scott. No one - ” John gripped the shopping trolley hard. “No one can replace her parents. No one.”

Scott stared at John for a moment before nodding. “I know. I know that.”

They pushed the trolley in silence for a few moments.

“So… trucks or barbies?”

Scott grinned. “You’re so behind with the times, Gramps, we get both obviously!”

+

Nadia was standing in front of the door, staring. John was sitting at the kitchen island watching her with a coffee in his hand. Melissa had to work last minute, and Scott and Allison were upstairs. John didn’t want to think about what that meant. Again. Those two…

Nadia perked up suddenly. Going from eerily frozen to bouncing off  the walls.

“They’re heerrrreeeeeeeeee,” she hollered.

“Okay, okay. I’ll get the door,” John said, delighted she hadn’t leapt up and tried to rip the lock off the door. Now John was closer to the door he too could hear the car doors slam, the thumps of feet running to the door. He opened the front door just in time to see a dark blur go by him and barrel into Nadia.

John gave a small wave to Derek and Cora dragging bags out the back of their car before turning to the children.

Well.

He hadn’t expected that.

Barry was thirteen? Maybe fourteen?

And black. Super black. Not one white parent. Not if he had to guess. No way. So –

Derek stood at the door staring at Nadia.

“John.”

“Derek.”

Derek frowned at John for a moment.

“Are we sure they’re siblings?”

“Well… their parents are men… we couldn’t have expected… So…” John fumbled over the words.

“Derek!” Scott called racing down the stairs.

“Scott,” Derek said with a nod. Scott clapped him on the shoulder and took Derek’s bag, chattering him away into the kitchen. Cora stayed in the doorway.

“Is that normal?” she asked gesturing to the kids. John looked down. Barry was crouched on the floor arms around Nadia as Nadia stood on tip toes, arms locked around Barry’s neck, eyes closed, not speaking.

“Do we care?” John asked. Cora shrugged, walking into the house and easily finding herself the coffee.

“What is that?” Barry spat.

John glanced around, wondering what could cause such venom. Allison stood at the top of the stairs.

“That’s Aunty Allison. She’s great. She reads me comic books.”

Barry looked suspicious as Allison came down the stairs. She flashed her dimpled smile.

“It’s nice to meet you Barry. Nadia’s missed you.”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t speak to me,” Barry said slowly. “And, obviously, don’t touch me.”

Allison’s eyes widened in shock but she gracefully nodded and went into the kitchen.

“Not nice,” Nadia murmured.

“Not real,” Barry murmured back.

“You too. Wanna meet Malia!” She yelled. Barry grinned.

“Definitely.”

+

“I’m sorry, I just thought - ”

“No. I assumed too.”

Derek, Cora, John and Malia sat around the kitchen island staring at each other. The thumps and squeals from Scott, Barry, and Nadia upstairs a strange yet appropriate soundtrack for their conversation. On who keeps them.

“We can’t let - ” Cora cut herself off.

“We feel the same way.”

“Why can’t - ”

John sighed.

“We don’t separate them. Agreed?”

Everyone around the table nodded.

“Keep them in America. Agreed?”

Nods all round. Nobody wanted to smuggle the identity-less children out of the states. Getting Barry in was hard enough.

“Keep them in Beacon Hills.”

Derek and Cora glanced at each other, a silent conversation of eyebrows.

“Fine,” Cora growled out. Derek nodded.

“Great. Now - ”

“You don’t have the space for them,” Derek interrupted.

“Your loft isn’t exactly child friendly,” Malia cut in.

“I bought a house.”

John blinked and stared at Cora. Derek’s eyebrows were raised so high they were in his hair.

“It’s… big,” she muttered. “Eight bedrooms.”

“You… house?” John said eloquently.

“I got a deal. Had some renovators go in and make it nice,” she sulked.

Derek blinked. “You bought - ”

“Everyone’s welcome,” Cora said talking over her brother. “Anyone’s welcome. Four rooms going.”

“Me,” Malia said immediately. Pragmatic as always.

“Fine,” Cora replied.

“I…” John croaked. “I’d have to discuss it with - ”

“It’s on Mayborne,” Cora replied.

“But that’s only over the road.”

“Yup.”

John reached over the isle and grasped Cora’s hand.

“Thank you.”

Cora squeezed back.

“So then,” John said leaning back. “What year is Barry in at school?”

January

John panted as he hid behind the tree, gun drawn, trying to catch his breath. He could see Allison throw her bow onto her shoulder and climb, Scott was in the clearing already – talking to it.

“We want you to stop. We need you to stop,” Scott said calmly and evenly.

“I need to find my eggs. I need to.”

John shuddered at the voice. Scraping like metal and thin like a frail old woman, it made him feel nauseous.

“We can help find your eggs. We’re asking you to stop this method of looking. Killing people is not good. Leaving people mad and injured is not good. We can look a different way.”

“A… different way…” she groaned.

“Yes,” Scott replied. “I promise. We can find them, together.”

A rustle in the trees made John look away. A dark blur moved, John raised his gun but stopped when he saw glowing eyes.

“Barry?” he whispered. Barry was suddenly in front of him, a small pouch hanging from his fingertips.

“I found the eggs.”

Suddenly there was a screech. John turned just in time to see the unnaturally tall… thing loom over them both. John thrust a hand out keeping Barry behind, fear gripped him tight.

“Hush, Mother, your nest is safe,” Barry said.

The… thing… Mother, shrank slowly down until she was eye level with Barry. Scott was just behind her, eyes red.

“You are fair. Mother gives thanks,” came a rasping response.

“Mother owes a fair debt,” Barry replied stepping forward.

“Mother will remember.”

Barry handed over the pouch and Mother reached in revealing five tiny eggs – John may have mistaken them for quail’s eggs had they not been so perfectly spherical.

“Mother says goodbye fair one.”

“Go well.”

Then she was gone.

John felt like he could finally breathe.

“What was that?” Allison asked as she jumped down from the trees.

“Still not sure, but Barry managed to give her what she wanted.”

“That’s not what I meant. That conversation… what was that?” Allison asked looking at Barry.

Barry flicked his eyes up and down at Allison. “Don’t know what you mean.”

“You do.”

“Guys,” John said raising his hand. “Let’s start heading back, alright?”

The group slowly turned and trudged back the way they came.

“It was strange,” John said quietly as Scott and Allison led the way. “The… way you spoke. The words you spoke.”

Barry shrugged. “Felt natural.”

“You once said that Nadia wasn’t a werewolf,” John said. “You?”

Barry looked down. “I’m… I’m not prepared to talk about that.”

John placed a hand on Barry’s shoulder. “Alright, kiddo. But… It’s not something that would help us find Peter and Stiles, is it?”

Barry shook his head. “No. It won’t help us. It might help them…” Barry clenched his fists. “They should have found us by now. They should… they should already know where we are. That was the whole point.”

“Don’t worry,” John said as they came to the edge of the woods. “That’s my job, alright? How did you get out here anyway? Does Derek even know you’ve left the house?”

February

Barry had been suspended. Again. Which was why he was helping around the department.

Well… helping was pushing it.

“Then what happened?”

“Baz, you do know I have work to do, right?” Jordan said with a laugh.

“Come on! It must be nice to tell this to someone? Who wasn’t there – I mean, a co-worker just set you on fire! And that’s how you find out you’re a hell hound! It’s like a tv show!”

“That’s not how I found out. That’s just when I realised I was…” Jordan shrugged. “We didn’t find out what I was until later.”

“Okay so - ”

“Kiddo,” John said interrupting the interrogation. “Go get us some lunch, alright,” he said handing over some money. Barry sighed.

“Fine.”

“And no salads,” John said sternly. Barry gave him a funny look.

“…Sure?” he said taking the money and trotting off. Jordan snorted.

“What?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Damn right, nothing sir,” John muttered into his files.

+

Barry has his feet up on John’s desk and he’s staring unfocused.

“Barry?”

He blinked and jumped a little.

“Sorry?”

“Feet off,” John said. “And bum off too, that’s my chair.”

“But not your desk,” Barry replied, taking his feet down and leaning forwards on his elbows instead.

“What do you mean?”

“This desk is one of the smaller ones, from the deputy’s bull pen, ring, whatever,” Barry said. “How come? Sentimental value? Was this the one you had when you were a deputy?”

John forced a smile. “Something like that. Why don’t you ask Romero if you can help her file?”

“Fine,” he grouched, sulking through into the next room. John edged slowly towards the desk and placed his palm over the spot he knew had been vandalised those years before. That empty tug that haunted him sometimes. In those moments before waking and sleeping.

Kocham Cię, Tato.

March

“Absolutely not.”

“But Barry, I wanna!”

John came in through the side door of the kitchen.

“Hey everyone,” he said easily, but was entirely ignored. Barry was sitting at the kitchen breakfast counter, Nadia bouncing in her chair beside him, Allison in the doorway with Cora.

“Barry we need to get you new clothes. Nadia has a birthday party. I can’t be in two places at once,” Cora stated.

“I can go myself - ” Barry started.

“No,” Cora said firmly, arms crossed. “Nadia is safe with Allison.”

Barry’s face twisted up.

“Barry, please…” Allison started.

“It’s not your fault,” Barry spat. “It’s just who you are as a person.”

Allison gritted her teeth. “Barry - ”

“Walking or driving.”

Allison frowned. “What?”

“Are you walking to the party or driving?” Barry asked again, super slowly. Allison huffed.

“It’s on Elm. So… we could walk?” Allison looked at Nadia who shot her a huge smile.

“Fine,” Barry said cuttingly. “Don’t drive her.”

“And why can’t I drive her?” Allison asked.

“You might disappear,” Barry replied sarcastically.

“Shoes. Let’s go,” Cora intervened. Barry stood, glaring at Allison.

“Bye bye, Nadia,” he said kissing Nadia on the forehead as he left.

“Bye bye, Barry,” she called after him. The door closed. John gruffed.

“Papa!” Nadia said waving her hands up.

“Małpa,” he said picking her up. “How are you today?”

“Sad, but excited. I’m going to party!”

“Party! That’s so grown up, you must be very excited, so why are you sad?”

“It’s Meg’s birthday and we have cake and hats and sinsug awnd pwesints awnd eerfin and wen can I have mines?” Nadia ended on a question with her big blue eyes shining up at John. John froze.

“Can you say that again for me?” John asked, having lost the conversation in the middle of the babble. “I’m so old I can’t hear anymore.”

Nadia giggled. “I want my birthday soon, silly grampa!” she said. John looked over to Allison. Allison shrugged.

“Okay, we’ll ask Barry when we should have your birthday, okay?” John replied, popping her onto the ground. “Now why don’t you show papa your book for this month?”

Nadia scampered off into the house and John sat down.

“Didn’t know you were coming by today?” Allison said as she slumped into a chair.

“Just for a little bit before my shift,” John said, sitting across from her. “Seems I caught the end of an… argument?”

Allison shrugged again. “Barry just….” Allison looked away as her eyes watered slightly. “Hates me.”

John sighed. “Ally…”

“It’s just hard because Nadia – she’s never not liked me? But since Barry’s been here he’s…”

“She’s following her brother’s lead,” John surmised. “Do we know why…?”

Allison shook her head. “At least he’s speaking to me now. At least, when there’s a group around. Not by ourselves. He’ll just blank me completely.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, really. Anyway, I better google how to get to this party.”

“I’ll hunt down Nadia.”

April

“I’ve had some news. Apparently there’s been a massive break out in some sort of… prison facility run by hunters. It’s very well possible that Stiles and Peter are part of the group that escaped.”

“Thanks Deaton. Chris already texted me that.”

May

It was nice having Chris back around again. Allison always seemed brighter when he was around. Melissa too come to think of it. Argent was just… an important part of the family.

Still no news on Stiles and Peter.

Barry was doing better at school – he had started disappearing into the woods though. Derek often had to track him down in his wolf form before he could find him. It was a win lose situation.

Nadia was having a birthday in June. A year. Nadia had been with them a year.

He wasn’t sure he could let her go anymore.

+

“Barry,” John sighed in relief.

Barry opened his eyes, glowing – but not their usual wolf gold. A silver. Maybe even white.

“John.”

John took a step forwards.

“You know, I’ve never found the nemeton before,” he said, sounding more brave than he felt. “Apparently she’s picky about being seen.”

Barry smiled and ran a hand affectionately over the stump he was sitting on. “She reminds me of… my family,” Barry glanced up at John. “My other family.”

“Well this family had a bit of a scare when Derek couldn’t find you. Mind if I send them a text?” John said flipping out his phone and sending a mass text to the others. “There we go,” John said then stepped closer again. “Is it okay if I… uh, I mean.”

“You can sit,” Barry said with a smirk. “Her bite is worse than her bark.”

John blinked. “That was hilarious,” he replied as he settled onto the stump next to Barry. “But you gotta stop doing this kiddo, well…” John amended. “In the middle of the night. Without telling anyone.”

Barry stared off into the trees.

“It’s strange,” Barry started suddenly. “To have you all so concerned. About me. When I’m the scariest thing in the wood.”

John inhaled, thinking over his answer.

“Being… different, or powerful, or able to protect yourself, doesn’t… Doesn’t stop you from being ours. Being our kid.”

“I’m not a kid John,” Barry said, white eyes snapping to John’s, voice gravelling deep. John swallowed.

“Yesterday you snorted spaghetti out your nose.”

Barry’s face was deadpan for a whole five seconds before he grinned and his eyes faded to muddy brown.

“That was pretty cool.”

John bumped a shoulder against Barry’s with a chuckle.

“I can’t find them,” Barry said gently. “I’ve been getting to know the nemeton, but Stiles is out of reach somehow and she can’t help. I’ve been trying to listen to my family, but they just don’t care,” Barry grit his teeth. “It is their way concerning us.”

“Derek…” John sighed. “Derek doesn’t believe you’re anything other than a werewolf.”

Barry smiled. “No werewolf would. No one supernatural does. Why do you think only you can see it?”

“And Allison,” John pressed gently. Barry’s eyes darkened.

“She doesn’t count.”

“Barry - ”

“Let’s get you home, old man. You’ll catch your death of cold out here,” Barry said rising and gliding off the tree. John groaned and stood up with a creak. Maybe he was too old to be doing this.

June

Party day.

Nadia had been bouncing around at Granma’s house all morning – her birthday beginning with a girl’s sleepover with her friends from kindergarten. Now they were gone, it was time for phase two. A picnic by the lake in the preserve - an old Hale Haunt Derek said.

“Do you want wellies or booties?” Melissa asked as Nadia sat on the stairs swinging her legs.

“Booties,” she decided. “Blue for my nails,” she said presenting her sparkly blue nails.

“Blue booties it is,” Melissa said pulling them out.

“Blue is the best.”

“Blue is just pretty,” Malia added, then frowned. “I do hope Derek’s remembered to pack the cake.”

Nadia’s eyes widened. “You better check,” she said solemnly. Malia nodded and whipped out her phone.

“We’re all good to go,” Melissa said, finishing the laces. “To the car!”

John, Mel, and Malia followed the racing tot out to the car.

“Come on!”

As it turned out Derek didn’t forget the cake.

He forgot the candles.

“I can’t believe we’re having a party here,” Lydia said from beside John. John turned to look at her. “Considering all the dead bodies I’ve found in this wood.”

“Yeah, well,” John scoffed. “Not recently.”

Lydia gave him a shrewd look.

“I’m going to braid the birthday girl’s hair,” she said succinctly standing up and joining the main group.

It was a nice spot Derek had picked. The lake was a great body of water, lying over there horizontally, there were picnic tables here, a tire swing over there, some pebbles for skipping stones, a few rock pools, a suitably large rock for barbequing on. It was great. Shame he and Barry had to go and hunt down birthday candles.

“John?”

John glanced over at Lydia. She was standing by the tire swing where Scott and Liam were trying to make the largest jumps into the water.

“Where’s Nadia?”

The thing about werewolves is everyone hears you.

John glanced around and looked to Scott who tilted his head, a little like a dog, then frowned. John stood up.

“Nadia!” he shouted. “Nadia, food!”

That was bound to work.

“Her scent is this way,” Malia shouted. John moved. So did Scott.

“There’s an unfamiliar scent,” Scott said.

There. A man was holding Nadia. Crying. Nadia was crying. He –

Scott stepped forwards snarling, eyes flashing red, Malia’s claws and fangs were out, but he –

“Scott. Malia,” John warned, heart pounding. “That’s him. That’s Peter.”

Scott looked at John.

“I think that’s her Dad.”

+

Scott was finding it hard to coax Malia down from her ferocious state, but Peter simply walked over to her, placed an arm around her shoulders and linked her into his hug with Nadia. Malia immediately melted into the embrace. John was stunned.

His phone was buzzing.

“Hello,” he croaked.

“Peter and Stiles are here. Peter’s heading for Nadia. Don’t freak out he - ”

“Yeah Barry, we got him. Just… bring the candles, alright?”

Scott’s gone back to the party, to tell people what’s happening, and John’s just stood there like –

“Papa,” Nadia said, twisting. “Food?”

John let’s out an ugly snort sob and nods.

“Sure thing, małpa. Food.”

John found himself catching Peter’s eye. A steady assessing gaze.

“What are we doing out in the woods today, jellybean?” Peter asked.

John’s insides twist. Jellybean. Adorable. Adorable like the unclosed murder cases in the file under his desk.

“It’s ma burfday,” Nadia said burrowing her face into Peter’s neck.

“Am I terribly late?”

“Late,” Nadia repeated squeezing tighter.

“Not as late as Tato,” Peter replied stepping past John. “I imagine we’re going to the lake. Have you played on the tire swing yet?”

Nadia’s nattering faded into the woods as John stood trying to collect himself. He knew this day might come – had hoped for Nadia’s sake, but now his baby was being taken away, now it was all happening again –

“John.”

John blinked at Malia.

“Party first.”

John nodded. Malia must be going through the same thing.

“Party first,” he croaked, turning back.

+

The tension was like an undercurrent thrumming through the group, like Peter was a danger, like he could turn into a vicious beast at any moment, like he could kill them all in a heartbeat…

Maybe it was just John.

Maybe not, judging the way Lydia stared.

Nadia didn’t want put down, couldn’t release Peter, and it didn’t seem like Peter could release her. Now is this light John could see the jawline, the brow, the blue eyes, even the shade of brown hair… Peter was her dad, no doubt.

Then again, maybe all werewolves looked alike in some way. John was half convinced Nadia was the spitting image of Cora some days.

Nadia freaked out and bounced.

“Tato tato!”

“I can hear him too,” Peter said easily, not standing from the picnic bench even though Nadia clearly wanted him too. “Who’s with him?”

“Barry! Uncle Derek!” Nadia shouted.

“Good girl,” Peter praised. “You’ve gotten so clever since we’ve been away.”

Peter smothered Nadia with kisses all over her face which made her squeal. John’s heart flipped.

“Peter!”

John’s head turned as Barry shouted and raced across the clearing. He barrelled into Peter’s side, Peter easily tucked the teen under his arm.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay, we’re here, it’s okay,” Peter gently shushed the shaking teen.

John glanced back up and saw Stiles. John’s heart clenched, he stepped forwards before he caught himself.

“What happened to Tato?” Nadia whispered.

“He got hurt, jellybean. Shall we go see?” Peter said gently.

Got hurt was an understatement.

His fucking eye was missing.

Peter stood and brought Nadia over to Stiles. Stiles held out shaky arms and gathered Nadia close to him, whispering gently to her. He could imagine what he was saying. He would be saying it too.

I’m sorry it took so long, I’m sorry I was away, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, I’m sorry you were alone, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Actual footage of me right now: 

Omigod, you guys! @triggertinks made an awesome sequel for For Certain Values of Love!

I am so happy right now!!!