#< there is like one snippet of this posted

[bebethsas]

well, I mean...that's kinda what happens

how do you get into writing:

you open your eyes and take your first-ever breath post-birth, that's how. ORRRRR, one day you're smacked over the head with the hammer of Inspiration, and it all snowballs from there.

some people are born with it, and some people receive it as an unexpected gift, and some people are born with it and don't realize it until that unexpected gift shows up.

but it's important to remember:

writing--like with most things you want--is like love. You'll never find it if you chase after what you think you want.

you want to be a good writer? Start writing. Keep writing. Write until you run out of words. Take a break, come back to it. Take time off, focus on other things, come back to it. You don't like how you phrased this sentence? Well, what do you think would make it better? You don't know? Well, how have other people (whose work you enjoyed) written it? What did you like about it? Remind yourself that no one is perfect, that building a skill takes time, that even if you don't like what you wrote today, there is still a possibility that you will like what you write tomorrow. Continue to write. Share it with no one. Share it with a close, trusted friend. Share it on your blog. Share it with your pet. Pay attention in English/writing class in school (you need to start with the basics, then branch out). Read, read, READ (you learn so much just from reading). Read novels, read classics, read fanfics, read snippets. Develop opinions, write them down. Take notes.

save all of your drafts. Rewrite the same scene in different ways; pick which version you like more, or find a way to mesh your favorite bits--across different versions--together.

you want to be famous, or renowned for what you create? You want to be a famous author? A legend? A trailblazer? To have the glory? If you focus solely on that, then you won't make it. You need to write first, the fame and glory and renown, etc. might come after. But if you're too focused on the potential reward at the end, then you'll never reach it, b/c you're too busy daydreaming and staring up at the clouds to pay attention to the staircase you need to build to reach them. And if you do make it, then you most likely won't be satisfied or happy (you won't be happy becuase you're chasing after a mutable concept that is always unattainable).

point is: you're born with it, or you're given it, or a bit of both. You can't force yourself to be a writer if at least a part of you isn't into it.

“how did you get into writing” girl nobody gets into writing. writing shows up one day at your door and gets into you

[junebugsarchive]

snippet:

nobody knew much about these men. fans have furiously scoured each and every website they could find, with nothing coming up with any information about the nugu kpop boy band that had suddenly taken the world by storm.

this didn't mean they failed to notice how the saja boys' cute little manager seemed to have them wrapped around her pinky. nobody could have ignored the way the boys' eyes softened when the manager entered the room, or how their bodies visibly eased as they conversed lightly with her, chuckling and smiling fondly at her with every interaction.

that was why when one of the most well-known kpop channels on social media posted a compilation titled '6 minutes of saja boys being complete simps for their manager', nobody bothered to act shock when the video received a million views in its first twenty-four hours after being uploaded, and thousands of likes and comments flooding the video with love.

hey sexys how are we doing with the new movie out and NO RUJINU KISS

anyways i have a dream and a plan for a youtube compilation of moments kinda thing I've never done it but i wanna try 😛😛

I've actually been sitting my ASS and clenching my BUTT CHEEKS on this idea ever since i saw the movie like almost a week ago..??? but i had no balls to try it bc my writing is so RUSTY.

but yeah wait for me guys I'll start cooking soon i hope..!!!

BTW AM I TOO STINGY W THE SNIPPET DO YALL WANT MORE 💋💋💋

[clockwayswrites]

I dont think you know how feral I am for the younger revenant and older half ghost thing. I was obsessed when you originally posted the idea. Just Jason strolling in and finding this random clock maker in charge of crime alley? And Danny seeing this young revenant trying to walk all over his territory?

I'm not the biggest fan of the potential age gap, but I can see it. I dont think Jason would like this situation at all for a while, and he would hate it in the most homoerotic way possible

I've just had this moment in my head where Danny confronts Jason and he's all like "It's adorable that you think you're alive. That you're still human" and his eyes slowly glow brighter as he talks. That's been living in my mind rent free. Danny being the most condescending smug asshole

I just don't think you know how fascinating that little snippet is. And I like your writing enough that im willing to wait and see if you want to write it. It's just really cool and I want to see if any of my thoughts are on the same wavelength, and what im dead wrong about.

LOL no, no, that tracks exactly. Danny would 100% say that to Jason. He finds Jason fascinating for so many reasons--and in no small part because of how much Jason hates it all, as you said, in the most homoerotic way possible.

Jason is all growly and snappy about it all, as if he can do anything to Danny. And Danny has no issue putting Jason in his place--or just where Danny wants him.

Age gap isn't my thing either really, and it wouldn't be a healthy relationship in a lot of ways, at least to start lol, but it is oddly compelling. It might just be letting Danny be the experienced, confident, and slightly amoral one.

[cheftsunoda]

Can we have some insight as to what else you currently have written or are planning to write? 🫣

hi baby!! here is a list of requests i am working on, editing, are queued to post or i am starting soon! on some i included the original request on a few or a snippet of what it is about. i appreciate you all and i have been working so hard on all of these! I apologize that i am slightly behind with requests! sowmthing will be out later tonight and then something else tomorrow morning! love you all💋

carlos sainz x architect reader x rebecca donaldson

mick x stroll!reader x esteban

lando x reader — “reader is a huge cat person and lando is known for hating cats. lando is smitten by the reader but reader will not date someone who doesn’t like cats. so he tries his best to make friends with the felines.”

lando x !fewtrell engineer reader — “media is being rude to reader and saying that she just got the job cause she's a woman and that she doesn't deserve it. lando has to step in and then they fall in love.”

oscar x wife reader — “Oscar is secretly married (and have a two year old daughter but the world doesnt know only their family and friends)to the most wanted model in the world and the grid keeps trying to get him to go on dates cause they think he's single and YN just thinks it's funny”

franco colapinto x !hamilton reader

charles leclerc x !medical resident x alexandra saint mleux — “reader is a Medical Intern in Monaco and charles and alex both just happen to be in the hospital that she is interning and they just get so infatuated with her and they come back to the hospital for just some “daily check ups” and bonus if they are together already can you do a part where they are looking for her and the find her in the back part of the ER where there are spare beds there and shes just taking a quick power nap from a long shift hehe”

charles leclerc x !younger sister reader — reader is struggling with mental health and big brother charles notices and tries to support her as much as possible.

ollie bearman x !norris reader — “And I was wondering if you could write one about where reader is Lando or Oscar's baby sister (18) and he's very protective of her and she's secretly dating Ollie and he goes full on big brother mode.”

esteban x !journalist reader x flavy

danny ric x !driver reader x max verstappen

lestappen x !best friend reader

toto wolff x!russell reader x susie wolff

f1 rookies x !platonic grid mom reader & !driver reader x mystery driver — the rookies find out that yn’s ex cheated on her and attempt to set her up with different drivers…when maybe she is already dating one.

pierre gasly x !leclerc reader x kika gomes

charles leclerc x reader — yn and charles grew up in monaco but as they grew up, they grew apart. what happens when yn joins the ferrari team and they reconnect?

brocedes x reader

oscar x !actress reader x ollie

lance stroll x !piastri teacher reader

toto wolff x !ferrari team principal reader x susie wolff (for my wife) (the loml)

[artshokad2]

The unthinkable happened right when i was going to join in wip Wednesday unprompted @twodiamondhoes tagged me in it

I was going to do something a little more recent but the day snuck up on me so have a really old snippet from a fic i may or may not finish that i wrote in a haze of finals stress while listening to “Sleeping in the Kitchen” by Madilyn Mei on loop

Jimmy Solidarity my beloved

Its a little out of my usual style because music possesses me in a way thats a little concerning sometimes but i had fun with it!

Tagging @gladumfdoodles who i know always has a snippet locked and loaded, @raffi-cat who should share their writing more in my humble opinion, @sincerely-nines because my favorite moot you should write fanfic… if you want…

and my friend ani whose tumblr @ is not working rn so im just going to send this to them but they should share their writing on tumblr!!! Its so fun!!

(No pressure to anyone, tis supposed to be for fun :D)

[itzpookiepooh]

I have non stop been listening to Soda Pop for the last few days and it's eating out all of my thoughts 🙃. I CANT STOP LISTENING ITS TOO CATCHY!!!!

On that note, what would LADs be like of their MC was under the Saja Boy trance or just in general a fangirl MC who loves this boy group and is singing and dancing to their songs word for word.

Don’t hate me but I haven’t seen or heard anything from this since everyone posted about it I heard a snippet of the song last night but that was it 😅 I’ll do my best though because I know a lil some some about fangirling.

Fangirl

Rafayel would do anything to make you happy and if that meant buying merch and concert tickets so be it. You’ve been to so many Ateez concerts you lost count. Thanks to your loving boyfriend? All front row seats.

“Who’s your favorite?” He asked as you danced to their latest song.

“Mingi and Sans!” You nearly squeal at the thought of them. “I love the whole band though so don’t think I don’t.” You point at him.

“You like them more than me?” Rafayel’s jaw dropped as he watched you belt the lyrics. You stopped and turned to him.

“I’d never put them over you.” You pout and caress his head. He sighed in relief letting you pet him.

“But if either of them show up to our wedding and object? I might leave you at the alter.” You joke making him gasp and push you away.

“Not funny.” He pouts before you console him. “I’m just kidding! You’re still my favorite person in the whole universe.” You kiss his puffy cheeks.

Oh Caleb is down to fangirl with you. He is buying you matching merch for whoever you both like. You’ve bought photo cards to trade and everything. Caleb even won tickets in a raffle. Who knew he was so good at guessing how many gum ball’s were in a jar?

“I’ve been waiting for a tour forever!” You squeal as Caleb laughs at you.

“Who do you think will look best? Callum or Michael?” Caleb asked as he stuffed the tickets in his jacket pocket.

“It’s really between Callum and Luke.” You pointed out as he nodded agreeing with you.

“You’re so right.” He agreed as you both walked and talked about concert plans.

He’ll drop you off and pick you up but that’s it. It gets a bit too rowdy for him but he’ll support you on whoever you’re talking about. He will wait until your back to listen to you go on and on about how the concert went. From the moment the lights went out to the very end when they left the stage.

“I’m glad you had fun.” He’ll say as he drives and looks over it you.

“Oh definitely!” You squeal holding all your merch you bought. He just chuckles and shakes his head.

He mostly listens intently to see what he can gift you.

Plays whatever you recommend on a vinyl. He really wants to see what you’re into. He definitely doesn’t get a song stuck in his head and hums it when you aren’t around. When you do catch him you smirk like SpongeBob finding out Squidward likes Krabby Patties.

“You like them, don’t you Sylus?” You tease him as he just watches you.

“Not particularly, no.” He answers as you walk over to his record player and hold up one of the records.

“Right…” You shake your head.

He doesn’t really know what’s going on if he’s honest. He’s just happy because you’re happy so when you talk about them he just nods along with whatever you said. You explained how fast you needed to get tickets and that you had to stay up until 2am for them to drop. He just nodded his head.

“Okay so I’m aiming for Linkon or Skyhaven. I can make it to either.” You explained rapidly as you waited for the timer to go down.

Xavier just nodded as he yawned time ticking by. He waited patiently with you as you kept refreshing the page. When the timer went down Xavier moved faster than the speed of light to get the tickets just so you wouldn’t be disappointed.

“AHH! Xavier you’re the best!” You clung to him as his head leans on your cheek.

I don’t listen to any K-pop bands but I do love 5SOS, 1D, and Little Mix 🙂‍↕️ a band is a band 🫵🏾

[gallawitchxx]

wip wednesday

hehehehe i'm starting this round because i've been writing my M8TE one-shot & although i didn't finish in time for gallavich week (during which the first chapter of M8TE was posted in 2022), i am determined to get this baby out the door to you!

here's a snippet of bitchy!ian pissing off his mate... 🖤

“Oh come on, I didn’t mean it like that and you know it,” Mickey insists, giving into his urges and pushing away from the table, his arms finally crossing. Ian’s pout is next level now. “Actually, I don’t know. And I certainly don’t know him.” Mickey’s brain is running on overtime now, scanning through the last couple of weeks of extra shifts, wondering who Ian could possibly mean, when it hits him—  “Are you talking about Todd?” “Who gives a fuck what his name is?” Ian rages. “I don’t know him, Mickey, and I don’t like the way he was looking at you!” “Jesus Christ, Ian.” Mickey pinches the bridge of his nose. “He’s my fucking boss now.” The old guy who ran the boxing club finally kicked the bucket, and left the business to his son, Todd, who’s an absolute moron. Mickey takes back what he said about anybody being able to log onto Google. This idiot wouldn’t know his way around an expense report if it tied him up and fucked him eight ways to Sunday. Not that Mickey wants to picture anybody, or anything, fucking Todd. Ian may be up in arms about some fictional flirtation, but Todd’s as ugly as he is dumb. Mickey would rather chew his own balls off. “Great, can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives with him,” Ian says, his nose turned up in disgust.

tagging @whatthebodygraspsnot @catgrassplantdad @iansfreckles @howlinchickhowl @gardenerian @whatwouldmickeydo @wehangout @deedala @mmmichyyy @sgtmickeyslaughter @callivich @abundanceofnots @beckyharvey29 @crossmydna @thisdivorce @rereadanon @echotrees @em-harlsnow @the-rat-wins @ian-galagher @ohkate @darlingian @palepinkgoat @pillowbee @jessij1997 @jrooc @captainjowl @creepkinginc @gallavich-annise @runninonemptyy @spoonfulstar @suzy-queued @blue-disco-lights @mybrainismelted @too-schoolforcool & literally anyone who wants to play! I WANT TO READ YOUR WORDS PLEASE & THANK YOU! xx

[henrygrass]

WIP Wednesday

Happy Wednesday! Today, I want to share a snippet from the first chapter of a fic that I will start posting next week (unless the heat claims me first).

Carlos’ knuckles turn white as his grip on the steering wheel tightens. His jaw is clenched, trying to keep at bay the storm swirling inside him—mad at TK for putting himself in danger, worried about what has gotten into him, and helpless to do anything but get there as fast as possible.

Sam is restless beside him, tapping his finger on his leg as he talks on the phone. “Thanks, Chief,” he says, then sighs and disconnects the call. “Good news, they won’t press charges.”

“I’m gonna strangle him,” Carlos mutters, shaking his head as a throbbing pulse begins to pound in his temple—a familiar one when it comes to TK, the pulse that will someday spread to his chest and give him a heart attack for good.

Sam chuckles. “Relax, man. They’re fine.”

Carlos’ gaze snaps to him, glaring. Sam takes the hint, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Or kill him. He’s your husband, not mine.”

Carlos turns right at the intersection, immediately spotting the police cruiser along the road. Lexi is standing beside it, talking to Ashlyn, who has her arms behind her back—handcuffed but seemingly unfazed as she chats away with Lexi.

He brings the car to a stop. Sam rushes out before Carlos has the chance to turn off the engine, calling for his wife and jogging toward her.

As Carlos steps out, he adjusts his hat to block the afternoon sun, then scans the area. His eyes land on the house to his right—the backyard where TK trespassed, apparently climbing over the high metal fence—and on the man on the front porch talking to another officer.

There are no signs of TK until he notices movement in the back of Lexi’s cruiser, seeing TK watching him through the glass.

Cursing under his breath, he walks up to Lexi, nodding at her. “Lexi.”

“Carlos, I believe this one’s yours,” she says, opening the car door to reveal his husband in the backseat, handcuffed and looking up at Carlos with eyes squinting against the sun, beads of sweat gathered on his brow.

“Hi, baby,” TK says, flashing a smile as he steps out, turning to let Lexi uncuff him.

TK looks unharmed, and Carlos battles the urge to pull him into a hug to calm the pounding in his chest. It’s a battle he might lose if TK keeps innocently smiling at him—Carlos’ undoing, masterfully weaponized by TK.

Ignoring the pleas of his own heart, he keeps his expression neutral and impassive—he must be a fortress in this silent standoff with his husband.

The silence stretches for a few moments until, shifting nervously, TK glances down at the ground. “It’s not what it looks like,” he mumbles.

Carlos crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. “Really? Enlighten me.”

Open tag & @heartstringsduet @emsprovisions @alrightbuckaroo @welcometololaland

@thisbuildinghasfeelings @lemonlyman-dotcom @decafdino @ssealie

@bonheur-cafe @carlos-in-glasses @theghostofashton @firstprince-history-huh

@ladyknight1512 @eclectic-sassycoweyes @neversleepuntilfive

@herefortarlos @strandnreyes @carlos-tk @lightningboltreader

@ladytessa74 @paperstorm @chicgeekgirl89 @everlastingday

@carlossreaders @pimento-playing-hopscotch @tellmegoodbye @afiendishthingynisba

@rangersoup @futures-tense @annoyingcloudearthquake

@whatsinthebox @liminalmemories21 @reyesstrand @my-beloved-lakes

@denizoid @sapphic--kiwi @ironheartwriter @butchreyes

(please, let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[regency-monster-love]

Part of the pack

Regency Orphan who gets taken in by a rich werewolf family as their ward when she's a girl, so instead of growing up alone and poor, she grows up with an entire pack that loves and protects her, even though she's just a human. They don't care. She's part of the pack now.

She's especially close to one of the werewolf boys who is near her in age. They're thick as thieves—literally. Werewolf Friend steals her favorite sweets for her from the kitchen, getting caught and scolded by the cook almost every time, but he doesn't care, because the gifts make his dearest friend happy.

As they grow up, the nature of their love shifts from friendship and familial affection to something deeper and less innocent. Neither will admit it, though. For her, social norms dictate that the woman can't openly declare her feelings. For him, he doesn't want her to feel obligated to say yes to him because his family took her in all those years ago, like she'd be paying back a debt that she never owed.

So they keep spending time together, separated by mere inches of air and a huge chasm of silence, both of them looking and longing but nothing more.

But Regency Orphan wasn't raised by the pack to be meek and demure; she's wants to be bold, a hunter, chasing and catching what she desires. She's tired of waiting.

One day when they're alone, she pounces: "Why do you not propose?"

Werewolf Friend blinks his big golden eyes rapidly. "To whom?"

"Me, of course. Unless there's someone else you're in love with?"

"No! You are—I'm—I thought—"

She smiles to see a big, fierce werewolf be made so discomposed by an insignificant little human like her.

"You don't think of me as a brother?" he pulls himself together to ask.

She stares intently into his eyes. "The things I feel for you are not at all sisterly in nature."

His pupils dilate and ears prick up at her tone and look. "Then...will you be my wife and mate?"

She'd wag her tail if she had one. "Yes, most happily!"

When they kiss, he wags his tail hard enough for the both of them.

~ 🐺🎩 ~

Loosely inspired by this post by @roguemonsterfucker

Read all of my Regency monster ficlets and snippets at the tag #my writing or my master list.

[sovlstr]

Quote anons experience on twitter: “My closest encounter with the mafia is when I went to a starkly empty pizza place in Rhode Island once, they seemed utterly confused that I wanted a pizza, it took 45 minutes to make, they gave it to me for free, and it was the best pizza l'd ever had.”

Turned it into a small snippet for the lovebirds ! Figured I should post at least one of the heaps of drabbles I have stored away for them🤍✌️(plus an unrendered piece I made of them a time ago. It’s unrelated to the piece below,

—————————

The afternoon was warm with the slow heat of early summer, a kind that made the cobblestones sweat and the glass shopfronts gleam like coins. Maria walked the city streets with her gloved hand tucked politely against her coat, soft curls pinned just so beneath her hat. She’d finished her errands early today- stopped by the grocer, the seamstress, even the little victory garden to simply say hello- and found herself struck by a sudden craving.

Pizza.

Not the doughy, sad kind her aunt would attempt to make on Sundays, but a real, genuine, thick- crusted cheesy, delicately Italian pie, fresh and spiced, like they said you could only get in the Italian Quarter. She thought of Red, likely lazing in his chair by now, cigar half- smoked, the faint stink of his cherry tobacco still clinging to his lapel as he snored with content. He’d eat anything greasy with gusto after a nice nap. And Papyrus… well, he could pretend to like “authentic cuisine” when it pleased him to be gracious, but it might serve him well to try.

A little surprise for the house.

Maria had only paused for a brief moment before she’d glanced up to find it there.

A narrow little storefront, tucked between a cobbler’s shop and an old watch repair, its sign reading “Luccio’s Ristorante” in faded red script across the glass. The window dusty, the corners smudged with time.

Inside, strangely still.

No clatter of dishes. No warm scent of baking bread. No quiet hum of conversation that marked a kitchen at work.

Empty. Odd for midday.

Then again… Tuesdays could be slow. She remembered her own slow Tuesdays, quiet and long, waiting for the evening rush that sometimes never came at the lease of a boring performance.

A faint bell chimed upon the woman’s entrance, the sound thin and small in the vast quiet of the room. Maria noted a quiet bunch of three men huddled in the far corner, casual simple suits and dark ties with their gazes set over cards. They didn’t look up. She was greeted by a large man in a crisp white apron, peering at her from behind the counter like she was a ghost.

“…Buongiorno?” she tried, giving a quiet smile. “Do you serve pizza here?”

A long silence. The man blinked at her blankly, wiping his hands on the apron as if waking from sleep. “Uh… pizza? You want pizza?”

The chalkboard above his head was blank. Not even a scribbled special. No prices. No menu. Not even a faint whiff of sauce in the air. She’d hesitated with a quiet stutter, before answering her reply at the waiting man stood in front of her.

“Yes. Ahm- a plain pie. For takeout.”

Another pause of silence. From deeper in the restaurant- where the few men sat hunched over a card table- a chair creaked. One of them letting out a low grunt, barely audible over the hum of the old ceiling fan.

The man at the counter didn’t move.

“Uh… si. Pizza. One moment.”

Maria awkwardly took her quiet position sat at the lone stool by the window, folding her gloved hands and pretending not to notice the way the cook muttered behind the counter in hurried but barely audible Italian. She could hardly make out what he spoke, even with knowing the language herself.

It took forty-five minutes.

When the box finally appeared, the man slid it across to her like handing off contraband, the woman just barely noticing the recognizable unease in his eyes. That notion had been making itself more and more apparent as of recent days.

“No charge,” He’d mutter simply.

“What? Oh, but I- “

“No charge.”

His eyes flicked nervously to the men at the table. “For you. Take.”

Maria blinked. Thanked him politely. Walked out into the warm street, slightly bewildered but still cradling the bulky brown box like a newfound treasure.

Maybe flattery was the only reason. Or maybe she’d just be naive enough to believe that odd excuse for the man’s gesture. Suppose it was an apology for taking so long. Giving them the benefit of the doubt, perhaps the suppliers were running late that week.

—————————

The scent reached him first.

Warm, rich dough curling in the air like the ghost of perfume- a hint of roasted garlic, sharp smoked cheese, and the softest whisper of basil lingering like a secret. It slid under the door, crept along the apartment’s wood floor, and all but wrapped itself around his senses as his skull tipped up, slow and curious, sniffing the air like some great hound.

That wasn’t the usual sauce.

It was… unfamiliar. Something made fresh. Pleasantly different from all Papyrus’s attempts. Though certainly not Maria’s.

Red glanced down at the cloth still in his hand, half- polished revolver gleaming under the low kitchen lamp. He’d been oiling the Colt out of habit- half- bored, half- attentive, the quiet of the apartment bringing a rare peace. Now the room smelled like little Italy’s best daydream. His lazy sprawl straightened by degrees. Nasal ridge twitching, brow lowering.

“…Sweetheart?” His voice rumbled low across the room as he folded a towel over the scattered pieces. “Whatcha got, doll?”

A rustle from the kitchen nook.

Red watched as a head of curls and chubby cheeks peeked out from the doorway as he entered, his little lady's sleeves rolled up to her elbow, cheek smudged faintly with something red.

Green eyes bright, warm but with tired delight. Behind her, laid like treasure on the counter, sat an enormous, blistering, golden- edged pizza in an ugly brown box- the kind without labels, speckled with dark grease stains blooming like ink.

“I went to that place down on 14th. The one by the old pier with the green awning? It was odd. Empty. Only some quiet men in suits waiting silently… they let me order anyway. Took forever, though they gave it to me for free after.”

Maria hummed quizzically, inspecting the pizza before slicing off another piece with a butter knife.

“Oh Red- it’s the best damn pizza I’ve ever had.”

The man watched Maria take a quick bite of the meal, cheese stretching like golden ribbon, and her sigh- a long, blissful breath of honest joy. His hand frozen over the counter. Blank socket staring. Blinked. Studied in silence. Then blinking again, slowly.

“The place by the pier?”

“Mmhmm.” She finished chewing happily. “No sign but the faded one in the window. Next to a watchmaker, I believe. Empty like a ghost town, but absolutely amazing.”

Red stilled his hand on the counter. Leaned forward, spine stiff as he spoke. His tone was soft, even lilted with a subtle amusement.

“…Sweetheart. That place ain’t a restaurant.”

A moment of silence passed before Maria turned to the larger skeleton, looking at him with now confused green eyes.

“What?”

She watched him drag his large hand down his face, half wheezing, half laughing under his breath.

“Oh, babe… babe. That ain’t been a restaurant since damn prohibition.”

He tipped his head toward the window like speaking of some distant ruin. “That’s Langstrom’s old washhouse. Money laundering. Ain’t no menu ‘cause there isn’t a menu. They don’t serve nobody. Place is just a front for cleaning cash and meeting outta sight. Nobody orders food ‘cause there ain’t any food.”

Maria seemed to freeze mid- bite. Slowly lowering the slice, black lashed eyes rounding like moons before she looked back at Red.

“…But they made me a pizza.”

Another rough laugh broke from him- throaty and benign. Red standing up straight, running a hand over his bare skull like this was the best thing he’d heard in years.

“Course they did. You walked in askin’ for the one thing they ain’t served in twenty fuckin’ years! Bet those boys in suits about shit themselves.”

Her hand shifted over her mouth after a thick swallow and following silence.

“…they gave it to me for free.”

She heard Red crack- his shoulders shaking, mouth wide with a fierce, helpless laugh tearing loose as he crossed the room and thunked the box with a bony finger like priceless treasure.

“Oh, babe…. What’re they gonna do, say no? They know who you are. Everyone in this work does, ‘nd Dons boys ain’t stupid. You walk in there alone, askin’ for somethin’ off the non- existent menu- hell, they probably thought you were sent.”

The words sank in after a moment's silence. Maria sat back slowly, stunned, the sad weight of the greasy slice drooping in her hand.

“Oh… I just wanted to surprise you.…”

Red leaned down behind her, arms curling slow and sure around her waist, pulling her back to his chest, that deep smoky purr warming her ear and curls.

“Sweetheart….” His voice drawled with a satisfied little hum. “You got no idea what kinda fear you just struck into them boys today.”

Maria felt her face warm with a huff, a smile creeping on her burning cheeks.

“…I thought they looked nervous when I asked for pepperoni.”

He laughed again, soft now, wickedly amused by her hesitance as his large chin rested against her shoulder.

“Next time you wanna play Russian roulette with dinner… gimme a heads up. Coulda got you a free steak outta Langstrom’s safehouse.”

Her eyes only stared at the pizza box, dazed into a steady silence. She whispered her reply.

“…Should I not eat it?”

Another chuckle leaving him. She’d felt his shadow crossing her as he reached to grab a fat, heavy slice for himself. The cheese snapping with a string as he pulled it free.

“Babe, if the mob makes you a pizza… You eat the fuckin’ pizza.”

She watched her man take a massive bite of the food, sighing as she leaned against him. Grease dripping warm onto the cardboard with satisfaction written in every line of his smug, bone grin.

“…Still the best pizza I ever had.”

Red chewed. Swallowed. Stayed grinning.

“Nothin’ makes a man cook better than fear of death.”

And it really was the best damn pizza in Blackridge.

—————————

The call came in the quiet hour.

Red seated comfortably in the bedroom, waxing the leather of a pair of his older shoes, faint smell of oil and grease sitting softly in the apartment. The radio crackling faintly in the kitchen. Maria humming in the other room, folding laundry.

Then the phone rang. It wasn’t the house line- this call coming from the other one. The thin, black rotary Red kept solely for business.

Cheshire grin fading with the exhaustion of a man answering to his boss, Sans answered the receiver slow and careful, and his voice gruff with the evening.

“…Red here.”

A pause. Soft breath, the faint echo of city wind through high glass. Then-

“Evening, Red.”

Don Langstrom’s voice had always held a particular curl to it. Smooth as dark wine, velvet laid over quiet steel tempered by a graceful of aging. His timing only nearly as uncanny as Wings' own, Red would notice at times.

“Hope I’m not disturbing supper, friend.”

The monster's eyes flared faintly. Free hand curling loose around the newly cleaned gun kept on the table nearby.

“Not a problem, Don.” He kept his voice level, even if carefully tempered with a grinding annoyance. “What can I do for ya?”

A soft chuckle hummed down the line.

“Oh, nothing serious. No trouble. Just thought I’d call about your woman.”

The silence stretched on now. Red’s grip tensing on the flimsy small phone, between his shoulders stiffening and a raging dark thought crossing the monster's mind. A sweet little daydream, of just how painful Red could make this man’s death, if he didn’t choose the right words.

“…My woman?”

“Yes.” Langstrom sighed amusedly, like a father catching a bright child stealing chocolate.

“Little Miss Maria. Lovely voice. Very sweet. She sang for my birthday, did she not? I remember.”

Don spoke of the day as if Red didn’t so vividly recall its every moment. The way the old man’s beady eyes had ran across his dolls, the way Red’s fists had clenched across his body, stiff and silent to conceal his rage at the time. Even Papyrus had felt it, bless his help.

“Green eyes. Dark hair. Gentle. You’ve got good taste, Red. I quite enjoyed her last performance.”

I like your girl. Maria Giovanni. Red’s teeth set in. Awaiting the man’s verdict.

“She’s sweet, that one.” Langstrom’s smile was almost audible in the way he spoke. “Innocent. Walked right into my old washhouse this afternoon. You know… the old one.”

Red shut his eyes, grimace slow.

“Yeah. Heard about that.”

“She ordered off the menu that didn’t exist.” The Don’s chuckle darkened, trepidation marking his words. “Walked in soft as a lamb, asking my boys for pizza like she was at Tony’s on Ninth. Thought you should know.”

“I know.” Red’s words came out faster than he’d have liked. Edged and strung like a thin- wire blade.

“She ain’t mean nothin’ by it. Girl was hungry. Thought it was still open.”

“Oh, I know she didn’t mean anything by it. But you understand, don’t you, my friend… that I cannot have my private works mistaken for real restaurants.”

The unspoken threat glimmered like fine china in the dark.

“She didn’t mean nothin’ by it.” He would atone. “Didn’t even know what the place was.”

Lee replied without missing a beat. Ease laced in his singsong voice despite his apparent stoic demeanor across the line.

“But Red… you do. And you let her walk the streets alone. Into my house.”

Red felt his eyes flare before fading back to his hollow glow. Spare hand tapping the table with a hand to keep from digging it anywhere else that he could pretend was Don Leonardo’s wrinkly throat.

“She ain’t your concern.”

“Everything that happens in Blackridge is my concern.”

Langstrom’s voice quieted to a low and cold baritone.

“Especially when it involves my best monster enforcer… and his human pet.”

A pause.

I’ll fucking kill you so damn bad… The pretty threat only lingered in his head as Sans' teeth set into a grinding scowl. But he remained silent for the Don.

“I like you, Red. You keep your leash short. Do your job. But you and I both know what happens when civilians stick their noses too close to family business. Accidents happen. Misunderstandings. Regret.”

“Ain’t gonna happen. I take care of mine.”

“I’m sure you do.” Another soft laugh from the phone's end. “But see that you keep her, monster. We wouldn’t want another mishap. Aheh, not after she charmed my kitchen boys into giving her one of the few goddamn pies they’ve made in years.”

Red said nothing. He only felt his grip whiten, twitching the black little handle. Langstrom’s voice softened once more.

“No harm done. But you might tell her… next time she wants pizza, stick to Luigi’s, hm?”

A low, dangerous grin tugged at Red’s mouth.

“Next time… I’ll have her ask you for steak instead.”

Langstrom’s laughter echoed as smooth and rich down the line as humanly possible.

“Oh, you monster. Maybe I’ll even cook it myself.”

Sure pal. Only after I choke ya out the next chance I get.

A pause. Then lowering silence.

“Watch yourself, Red. My men watch too.”

Click.

The line went dead.

Red sat in silence for a moment longer, the warm pulsing hum of the room a growing contrast to the twitch and fray of his bones. Maria’s gentle voice drifting from the bedroom as she hummed some old tune from her parents' day. He gave a sigh, rolling his skull back, grinning sharp and tired.

“Doll… Ya got the whole city’s men sweatin’… and you just wanted a goddamn pizza.”

—————————

It would be a moments while before Sans felt the desire to address it to his lady. The city outside their window sighing with distant tires, quiet horns, the occasional far- off laughter of some soul drunk on summer wine. The hour late already, with the evening lamps dimmed and the air warm with a fading heat.

Maria stood in the little bathroom doorway, oiling her dark curls loose, green eyes lidded soft with sleep and her house robe trailing open at the collar. She’d find her Red sitting silent on the bed’s edge, rolling a new toothpick slow between his bared teeth, sockets shadowed in a steady silence.

Too silent.

“Dear? You alright?”

She earned a grunt in reply. Maria could sense the lack of a casual verdict this time. No following smirk, no quiet tease.

“Come ‘ere, doll.”

His voice was careful now. That rare tone- the real one he used, when it was a serious matter. One could make the air in the room shift its weight in silence.

It’s why Maria felt herself first hesitant.

So only in barren worry did she quietly pace across the bedroom to him, bare feet soft on the floor. Reds eyes met hers. Crimson lights glowing faintly in the dim room, wavering red like the flicker of a match. She felt his bony hand curling warm around her wrist as he drew her down closer, quiet and gentle until she stood just between his knees with his grip finding itself on her hip.

“We gotta talk, sweetheart.”

Maria looked down in silence.

“I figured as much. But about what, Red?”

Sans gave a grumbling sigh, an ever present smell of cherry tobacco and something dark, heavy as the city itself.

“The Don called me tonight.”

The words ran in her mind despite the stillness of her body. The Don. Not ‘a Don’. They knew no other Don to speak of. No other than the very explicit man Red worked for. A large hand giving her hip the faintest of a squeeze served to ground her mind back to the present.

“About you.”

Sans noted the particular twitch of her circular eyebrow. Lips frowning softly against her face. The way her heart began once more, following the pause of her breath as it hitched in her throat and she forgot it was still safe to breathe.

“About me.”

“Yeah. ‘Bout the little pizza stunt.”

Whether his words made her any more relieved or any more worried, Maria didn’t quite understand herself. Because he would’ve noticed. It hadn’t even crossed her mind any sooner that it may have been a genuine problem- one enough to notify the owner of its establishment. If he had civilians unknowingly entering his dealing zones.

“… I didn’t..”

“I know. He knows.” Red reached to pull her hand into his, squeezing slowly. His other hand brushing her waist, quietly sure with his lifted gaze.

“You’re clean. You didn’t do wrong. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’re safe. But, sweetheart… You can’t do that again.”

Maria let him gently tug her onto his lap, cradling her against him with his skull pressed to her temple, his breath warm in her hair. Green eyes wide with worry and a burningly still stare into his own.

“Not alone. Not down there. Not near any of those places. The Don’s smilin’ now but that smile’s got teeth. You don’t poke the bear’s den twice. Not even on accident.”

Maria curled into him faint. A hand drifting to his chest, feeling the low hum of his magic under his ribs. Red’s tone flattened.

“He laughed about it. This time. Said you gave his boys the best scare they’ve had in years… But that’s ‘cause I’m his monster. And ‘cause he likes your singin’ voice. Next time, they ain’t gonna be so amused.”

“….They ain’t gentle men.“

The tension followed his words like a warning, one where she could feel the silence leer upon her shoulders. Eyes flicking down as if the feeling of being lectured had been almost forgotten in her mind. And perhaps it had. The woman being so accustomed to keeping careful and mature with how she handled herself, in a world where a single sliver of dependence could mean injury… even worse then. It almost felt impossible that she had even let this slip- up happen. A heavy sigh escaped her languid frame.

“I’ll be more careful, Red.”

“…That’s why you won’t go alone anymore. No more walks alone near the piers. No more empty joints. You want somethin’? You tell me. I keep you safe. I keep ya mine. You hear me, doll?”

Red leaned back to gaze at her slowly, his empty black socket reflecting the light brown of the room around the pair. His free hand traveled to the back of her neck, thumb brushing the stray baby hairs that marked where her hair began. Caressing the under of her ears as she sat in a contemplative silence.

“Langstrom made sure I heard it clear, sweetheart. He’ll have the city watchin’ now. Other families… listenin.”

A tired smile tugged at his jaws.

“Only you could do that.”

Silence passed before Maria gave a quiet breath. Resting her head against his chest, as if to think anymore were to wear the woman out.

“I won’t go alone again,” she’d promise solemnly. “Not without you. Or someone you trust to watch.”

Because Maria was well aware that Red paid a quiet handful of nameless men to keep watch over her- shadowing her steps any time she left the apartment, unseen but always there. A quiet insurance. A silent net. She pretended not to notice. And he pretended she didn’t know. But they both understood. She felt his jaw ease just faintly enough for his teeth to click.

“Good girl.” His voice dipped lower a with rare, honest care. “Don’t want nothin’ happenin’ to you. Not ‘cause I wasn’t watchin’.“

His hand slid to her cheek, gentle. A grin tugging at his Cheshire- toothed smile.

“And besides…” His thumb brushing the curve of her jaw. “Next time you want pizza… You come to me. I’ll steal you somethin’ better than mob pie.”

Her smile was small, faint enough as she brushed her nose against his own to sigh quietly.

“….Still the best damn pizza I ever had.”

His chuckle rumbled against her hair. A rare, light thing. She felt her own hum of a laugh slip free- soft, barely hidden in the new hush between them.

“….Fear makes good cooks.”

And as soon as it came had the warmth cooled, fading fast behind his sockets. His phalanges splaying firm across her clothed waist.

“Just stay close, doll. From now on.”

And Maria only nodded- silent, knowing- because she felt it now. The shift. from the city’s gaze creeping close at the windows and Red’s quiet heart burning beneath her palm in sync with her own. The weight of eyes watching.

A new crowd. New dealers. New brutes slipping into the lounge’s smoke and velvet.

A larger audience.

And they were watching her, too.

—————————

[adamprrishcycle]

Shatter Point

So, I’ve been working on this fic for a good while now and have posted multiple little snippets here and there. I wanted to post the first chapter on tumblr before I start posting it officially on ao3. Let me know what you think!

I have yet to come up with a synopsis, so let me be messy and just say everything that happens in the books has happened, only Adam never went to Aglionby and therefore, never met Ronan or Gansey. He escapes Henrietta, goes to Harvard and eventually ends up in his secret little government job. This job is in a department that polices dreamers, like the moderators but less we-wanna-kill-all-dreamers and more they-exist-amongst-us-and-aren't-going-away-so-we-must-keep-track-of-everything-they-do. ANYWAY, a job comes up in Henrietta (a place Adam hasn't been in a decade) and he is fucked up enough to take it.

Chapter 1: Returning

4.1k words, pynch, meet-ugly, canon typical violence, referenced past abuse

The road sign was rusty and warped by harsh weather and a traffic collision that left one steel leg bent at an odd angle many years before. Close up, it stood a good few feet taller than Adam Parrish as he squinted up at it, hand raised to shade his eyes from the glare. Beyond the sign, the road descended down the mountainside to arrive at the small town called Henrietta.

It could have been just the mere sight of the paper town below or the feeling of sweat running down Adam’s neck under his shirt collar in the warm afternoon, but he abruptly felt nineteen and every ugly year before it all at once.

He turned from the sign and climbed back into his car, grateful for the AC that swept cool air over him and then with a deep breath, pulled off from the rough ground and back onto the main road.

The town was the same as it had always been, though the last time Adam was here, he’d been leaving. He’d spent his childhood and teenage years leaving Henrietta in any small way that he could, and when the day finally came when he departed for good, he never looked back. He’d made his escape achingly slow, like digging a tunnel in the dirt with a spoon. He had worked his body to the bone over years of part-time jobs and a school career that would’ve made the town newspaper, if he had managed to show up any day without fading bruises or a fat lip. Now, looking back, Adam was able to shrug it off flippantly, the struggle of his adolescence diminished by the man he had fought to become.

He had never stepped foot in Henrietta since the day he left. But here he was now, driving the roads he used to cycle down in his youth, and it was already stifling him.

As he drove, he passed the public school he attended and he remembered a text message lighting up his phone a few nights ago and how he had never replied.

I can go home with you if you want.

It was from his best friend, Blue. He knew why he hadn’t replied, but to acknowledge it now, to open that door and welcome in the feelings of fear he’d dwelled upon ever since he left, the fear that while he believed he saved himself from this fate, he knew a part of him was and would always be seventeen years old with a bleeding ear that would never hear a whisper again. It wasn’t a rational thought, and Adam prided himself on always being rational and realistic, but to reply to Blue would’ve been to admit that he was scared out of his mind about being here.

About being home.

This was no home to Adam Parrish.

He stopped at a set of traffic lights and watched as two elderly people crossed the road. He looked ahead and spied in the distance the Catholic church where he had once viewed an upstairs apartment. It was a small habitation with little space to stand up straight due to the slanted ceiling under the eaves but he had daydreamed endlessly about being able to afford it and move out of his parents trailer.

Blue had visited the apartment with him and they’d held hands as they walked back down the narrow staircase, a brush of knuckles that led to fingers intertwined. And Adam would’ve kissed her in the parking lot. But that was before she had had a taste of his temper and before he had realised what it meant to have a true friend.

The lights turned to green and Adam urged the car forwards, passing the church that stood quietly, its stained glass dark and dusty. It was the middle of the day on a Thursday so there was no reason for it to be bustling with life, but the way it looked, sitting there solemnly with chipped paint on its door and dirt streaked windows, Adam couldn’t help but feel an air of desolation, and it was catching.

The buildings gradually grew further apart as he passed through town and out the other side, and then he was heading down a winding road, trees pressing in either side. He picked up speed despite the bends in the road and glanced at his phone, propped on the dashboard precariously. He caught it in his hand as he rounded a sharp curve and turned it over in his lap to follow the instructions on the map.

He almost missed the turning, concealed within the thick foliage, almost as though the trees were hiding something. Braking hard, he turned onto the muddy track. The oppressive, dry heat of the late June day didn’t hint that it had rained recently, yet the driveway was churned, moist earth and he cracked the drivers side window to take in the humid, living scent of the forest. It tugged at a natural, feral part of him sharply and he longed to step out of the car and take it all in, feeling the surge of energy and life under his feet from the ley line that he recognised from his childhood. The smell in the air and the hum all around reminded him that magic was real and he felt lightheaded with it for the first time in a long time.

Despite that, his job was all about magic, but the act of cataloging and policing dreamt objects under a classified department of the government had a way of sucking the life out of anything enchanting.

The brief that brought him to his childhood town was simple. There was thought to be a great deal of dreams residing on a farm under the name of Lynch in the middle of West Virginia. Go there, inspect it, and report back. When he saw the location of the job, he’d volunteered for it before he could think about it and change his mind.

Adam was no dreamer, but he’d been having recurring dreams for weeks.

They were similar to the kinds of dreams he was having in his final years of high school and they had always centered around Henrietta in a way he couldn’t describe. The dream always happened amongst trees but Adam always knew where he was. He could always feel his ley line, the energy filling him up like he was an empty container before and afterwards, he was brimming with potential. His hands shook in his dreams and there was a presence there. A dark thing. It felt neither good nor bad, it was just there and it seemed to cup the ley energy, the forest and Adam all in its hands. And Adam envied it. He knew it was in Henrietta and he wanted to find it and take the power for himself.

He felt as though he’d been starving his whole life, ribs protruding, limbs wasted. He’d been starved of the basic necessities to survive and nearing his thirtieth year, he felt vicious with the desperate need to feel full. And to do whatever it took to get it.

The car crawled slowly up the drive to the Lynch farm as Adam tapped at his phone with one hand when it informed him that he had reached his destination. He looked up at the track ahead and was distracted for a moment by small, glowing lights that caught his eye as they bobbed between the trees. The car rolled forward slowly as he leaned this way and that to get a better look at what he thought were fireflies out in broad daylight and then the car juddered and stalled, the engine cutting out.

But Adam didn’t notice.

Adam wasn’t there anymore.

He saw his father’s red face, his big hands, the fury in his eyes and the spit flying from his mouth. It was as though Adam was living a memory inside his own head and he cowered, smaller, childlike. He didn’t feel the impact of the first blow but his face stung as he saw the look in the eyes of the other people he encountered. His mother, his teachers, kids at school, strangers passing him on the street. Over and over again they looked at him and their foreheads creased and their eyes were grieving. He ran for his bike, he wanted to escape, but the chain had fallen off and no matter how many times he tried to fix it, his useless, stupid, good-for-nothing hands failed miserably, his fingers weak and shaking. Someone shouted his name and he flinched, turning and there was his father again. Red face. Big hands. The impact knocked him off his feet. His mother’s eyes were filled with disappointed tears. His teachers shared silent looks. Kids at school laughed.

Somewhere, tangled within the thoughts fogging up his brain, Adam pressed the clutch and turned the key in the ignition and the engine rolled over once, twice then surged back to life. He accelerated hard and the car lurched forward.

His mind was free.

He was alone in the car with the trees either side of the driveway watching him silently. He glanced in the rearview mirror as he drove erratically up the driveway, desperate to get away from whatever the hell he had stumbled into. He could sense its origin, being quite experienced with the objects he was paid handsomely to investigate. He was aware that he may have just stepped into some kind of dreamer's trick.

For the first time that day, what was ahead of him scared him more than what he had left behind. If the dreamer was able to come up with something as vile as that, what else could they have dreamt up on a secluded farm in a hushed valley in the middle of nowhere?

There was sunlight shining ahead of him as he reached the end of the treeline that splayed out suddenly and he drove up to a farmhouse that had seen better days. It stood there proudly despite this, and its shabby exterior and various outbuildings could be seen, wearily leaning against one another like drunken friends trying to make their way home. The fields rolled out to Adam’s right and beyond them, mountains stacked against the sky as purple as a bruise.

Adam closed his eyes, feeling the ley energy all around him and the dream objects with it, all centered around a sweetmetal that felt like a gravitational pull. Nothing could possibly fall asleep here, even if it wanted to.

In the near distance, he could see livestock grazing serenely and he parked up a few meters from the front porch of the house. Getting out of the car, he took a few steps back the way he came, peering into the gloom of the shaded driveway, darker because of the bright sunlight of the summer day. He didn’t dwell on the fact that he would probably have to leave that way and reached back into the car, pulling a small handgun out from under the passenger seat, tucking it into his waistband and he turned towards the house.

He knocked on the front door. Three, sharp raps and then he stood back, inspecting the building up close. The white paint was peeling and there was a woven mat at Adam’s feet, clogged with mud and unraveling. He knocked again, then moved to peer through a window. It was difficult to see inside with the bright sunshine at his back but he could make out a dark kitchen. It looked quite ordinary, but looks were deceiving.

When no one answered the door, he descended the porch steps and walked around to the back of the house. He looked up as a large black bird flew overhead, cawing down at him. It circled several times, then flew off over the fields.

Adam approached a garage with a corrugated roof and found that the door was unlocked. Pulling it open with a groan, inside there was nothing out of the ordinary. Garden equipment. Shovels, plant pots, various lawn mowers that got bigger in size. He picked his way through the objects, letting the musty shed smell fill his nose until something rushed past at shin height, nearly whisking him off his feet. He spun and watched as a cat ran away from him across the yard. He sighed with relief, but then the creature turned to fix him with a stare and he felt a spasm of panic as he noticed that instead of front legs and paws, it had very human looking hands. His heart pounded, half with alarm, half with excitement. Seeing a dream never ceased to amaze him, even after all these years.

He exited the shed and crouched down on the gravel, extending a hand to the cat with hands. Its features were one hundred percent feline, yet it managed to glower at him suspiciously before flicking small stones at him with its highly evolved digits, then turned and ran, disappearing into the trees beyond the house. Adam straightened and sighed to himself, unsure how exactly he was going to categorise that.

He circled the house a couple of times, knocking at the back door and then at the front door again before making his way across the fields towards a large barn. When he entered the field where the livestock were, he paused as the cattle slowly lifted their great heads and bellowed at him softly. Something sensible inside him told him he should be wary around them, but the other side of him who let magic seep up through his fingertips and scryed into every darkened window he came across, urged him on.

The cows let him pass and seemingly went back to grazing, but as he approached the barn and turned to look back, they all seemed to have shuffled after him silently. Surely impossible, surely a dream herd. Adam was getting more and more apprehensive to meet the dreamer and he laid his hand briefly on the gun in his waistband.

His shirt was sticking to his back as he pushed the barn door open and the warm, sweet stench washed over him. He could smell the hay and the scent of many creatures living and breathing together.

Something was moving at the other end of the barn and Adam stepped forward cautiously, sensing that the something was bigger than a cow. His hand returned to the gun but he didn't pull it out just yet.

“It’s okay,” he said out loud, his own voice startling him after not speaking a word since he checked out of the last motel he’d stayed at on his way down here. He cleared his throat. “It’s okay,” he tried again, “I’m not going to hurt you. Just come out slowly like your friends out there.”

There was a rough, croaking sound and then a thin snarl that had Adam gripping the gun firmly, freeing it and cocking it in one swift motion, one hand placed under the other to steady his aim. It didn’t sound like a farm animal. It didn’t sound like anything he’d ever heard before. He wanted to say something else so the creature might understand that he wasn’t there as a threat, despite the gun in his hand, but his mouth dried up and he couldn't bring to himself utter another word.

Fight or flight was clicking into place as Adam weighed up his options, glancing quickly over his shoulder to estimate how many milliseconds it would take him to reach the door, or whether he could dive for the ladder that led to a mezzanine level above and gain some higher ground. His mind was also on his experience in the driveway and he wondered if he was as scared shitless then as he was now. Which was worse? His childhood memories or fear of the unknown that snarled?

There was movement at the far end of the barn and Adam only caught a glimpse of something impossibly big with white, leathery torn skin, the beat of large wings before he opened fire. Three fast shots, one after the other, and then he was running. He locked eyes with a bored-looking sandy coloured cow chewing lazily and wondered how she could be so calm while he was running for his life and then he fell as the thing crashed into his back, tearing at him and sending him careening forwards. He smacked his head on the hard, packed earth outside the barn door and the gun was knocked from his grip, skittering through the dust. For a second he lay there, dazed but then the creature gave a high, thin cry and Adam rolled, one hand to his forehead as he watched the thing fly over him and up into the blue sky.

He rolled again, pushing himself up on all fours and crawled towards his gun, adrenaline surging through him as his fingers wrapped around the skin-warmed metal. As he stood, taking aim at the sky, something small and dark flashed past him, colliding with his arm and knocking the gun flying again. Adam recognized the black bird from earlier as it soared up into the sky after the creature.

“Hey!”

The human voice startled him, aggressive and laboured and to Adam’s great dismay, the owner of the voice reached down a few feet away to pick up his gun from between the weeds where it had fallen. He was a tall guy with a shaved head and his eyes were light in colour but they seemed to darken as he studied the gun, then looked up at Adam. He wore a sleeveless, black shirt and scales snaked up his left arm in dark green ink. His face was sharp angles and as he stopped a few feet away from Adam, he lifted the gun and pointed it at him.

Adam automatically held both hands up, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head and the stinging pain to his left shoulder. He took his eyes off the stranger momentarily to glance up at the creature in the sky that was now chasing the black bird and shrieking. The cattle continued to graze.

“Who the fuck are you?” The stranger asked. Most likely the owner of the farm. Almost definitely the dreamer.

“My name's Parrish,” Adam told him breathlessly and went to reach for his government issued badge but the dreamer stepped closer, gun trained at Adam’s head. He was unaware as to whether the dreamer knew how to use a gun, but it wouldn’t take an idiot to pull a trigger.

Adam froze and swallowed, his right hand now closer to his chest. The blood running out of his left hand seemed to be pooling at his shoulder blade and he gritted his teeth.

“Keep your hands up there,” the dreamer told him and Adam lifted his right hand higher again.

“I’m just gonna show you my badge—“

“You a cop?” The dreamer interrupted. Adam noticed that his hand didn’t shake as he wielded the gun and it spoke volumes.

“No, I work for the government,” Adam said, trying to keep his voice calm and even although it was getting difficult to ignore the pain in his shoulder as it seemed to have melded with the pain in his head so his whole body felt like it was beginning to vibrate with each fast pulse of his heart. His hands trembled midair.

The dreamer finally lowered the gun but his expression was no less threatening. “What do you want?”

“Can I get my badge now?” Adam asked and the dreamer nodded once so Adam reached into his back pocket stiffly and pulled out his badge, throwing it to the dreamer who caught it easily in one hand. He flicked the safety back on the gun and tucked it behind his back, then studied the badge.

“What the fuck?” Adam heard him mutter under his breath.

“Surely you’ve heard of us?” Adam asked incredulously. With this place so full of dreams, it was hard to grasp that he may have been free to go about this activity unsupervised.

The dreamer looked up from the badge with suspicious hostility. “No, I haven’t.”

Adam didn’t like that look. “I’m gonna need my firearm back,” he said but the dreamer didn’t move or speak, he just carried on looking at Adam until the sound of the creature and the bird flying directly overhead had them both looking at the sky, the bird teasing the monster and cackling as if it knew how to laugh.

“What is that thing?” Adam asked and he reached over his shoulder to press the fingertips of his right hand to his left shoulder blade. They came back smeared with blood. “Jesus. Shit. What is that thing?” he repeated.

“It’s a raven,” the dreamer replied before quickly closing the gap between himself and Adam, pressing the badge into Adam’s chest. The sudden closeness and contact had Adam stepping back like he’d been burnt and the badge fell to the floor between them. He scrabbled in the dirt to pick it up, almost losing his balance as he straightened up again with the throbbing in his temple. The world seemed to darken at the edges, then refocused.

“Not the bird,” he snapped.

“Hey, shit-for-brains,” the dreamer called up at the sky and after a few rotations, the raven plummeted, leaving the monster reeling.

The large bird landed cleanly on the dreamer's shoulder and it eyed Adam with a similar, hostile expression. Adam watched, surprised and silently awed at the tameness of the carrion bird. Then he felt a rush of air as the white creature sored down and he ducked out of the way as the dreamer pointed to the barn calmly without so much as shifting positions.

“Get in there or get lost,” he told it and the creature alighted on the barn roof chaotically, leathery wings flapping, sending a few roof tiles clattering to the ground. Adam took it in. It’s ruined, cadaverous body in a sickly off-white colour. The thing had two heads with ugly, half-humanoid, half-bird features and red eyes. He’d never seen something so terrifying in his life.

“What is it?” He demanded again.

“An angel,” the dreamer replied with a snort.

Adam managed to tear his eyes away. “You know I could have you arrested for keeping it?” he said.

There was something dangerous in the dreamer's face, worse than the expression he wore before. This one was a smirk, sharp as the talons of the raven that hunched on his shoulder. “I thought you weren’t a cop,” he said.

“I’m not, but I’m well within my rights to call them,” Adam told him. He sounded brave but he didn’t feel it. He really wanted to sit down. This time, when his vision blurred and dimmed at the edges, it didn’t return to normal afterwards. He swayed slightly.

“And what exactly is my crime?” The dreamer asked and he shrugged his shoulder, causing the raven to fly off. Adam didn’t watch it go as it was suddenly taking everything in him to stay vertical. He stared at the dreamer, his vision tunneling.

“That thing attacked me,” he said. “You’ve created something dangerous and life threatening. It’s—“ he searched for what he was supposed to say, but his brain felt foggy, words evading him as the tunnel seemed to lengthen, the dreamer getting further and further away. “It’s not allowed,” he settled on and flinched violently as the creature perched on the roof cried out. He brought a hand instinctively to his deaf ear.

“Who says it’s mine?” came the dreamer's voice, far away.

Adam looked about him for something to sag against. If he didn’t urge himself to move quickly, he was going to faceplant the ground again. The barn was a few paces away, he was sure of it, though it looked distant and foreboding.

“As if—“ he staggered to the barn, putting one hand against the weathered wood faster than he thought was possible, then he leaned his whole body into it. “As if I can’t smell it,” he said, lifting his heavy head to see the dreamer moving towards him again, “on you,” he finished, his voice slurring and foreign to his own ears. It wasn’t really the word he was looking for but it seemed to fit. All he could feel was pain, sparking up his whole body like his blood was lighter fluid and someone had dropped a match.

“What the hell, man?” said the dreamer.

“Don’t… touch me,” Adam mumbled as he slid down the wall to the ground like he was melting in the sun.

“I’m not gonna fucking touch you.”

The dreamer's voice seemed to come from very far away and then as Adam was fighting it, unconsciousness grabbed him and took him under and the summer afternoon slipped into nothingness.

[wistericaine]

buisness notebook | mattheo riddle

rockstar!mattheo x reader | chaotic fluff | wc: 491

summary: you and mattheo talk about his songs

“What are you doing?” you asked Mattheo curiously. 

Mattheo had recently taken you back to his apartment—rushing inside and cleaning up just a bit before actually letting you in. You had felt a laugh bubbling out of your throat at the way he smiled at you, or the way that you noticed most of his stuff had been shoved into cabinets. 

You had just tried to walk into Mattheo’s room to check on him. Emphasis on the word tried. 

He had quite a bit of mess around his room. It was evident that his bedroom was the room he spent the most time in, clothes and random containers tossed around haphazardly. His dresser had makeup products splattered around it, papers thrown across the floor in frustration, and empty alcohol bottles standing near his nightstand. 

“Just writing,” he murmured under his breath. “Why?”

You shrugged simply. “I wanted to check on you.”

He chuckled quietly and shook his head, clearing off some of the clothes from his mattress for you to sit down on it. “Sorry for the mess.”

“It’s fine.” you said, crawling over the clothes and sitting down next to him. “What’cha writing?”

He shrugged and turned the page in his notebook. “It’s mainly promotional stuff. Kinda boring.”

“What if it’s interesting to me?” you asked him with a smirk. 

Mattheo just shrugged again and handed you the book, your eyes looking over the contents curiously. The notebook was currently filled with different promotional material, like he said—song titles and ideas mostly. Much like a common place journal, you assumed. 

“This is nice.” you murmured quietly. “Your handwriting is pretty.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “It’s basic cursive. My father forced me to learn it.”

“Poor you.” you whispered, looking over different titles. “Time is running out?”

“I have an idea for it.” he shrugged. You noted that he had been shrugging quite a bit the entire day, especially ever since he got back here. “Not quite sure what the entire thing will be yet, though.”

You nodded at that, looking through other titles and ideas. “Creep?”

“Work in progress.” he smiled awkwardly—a small hiss escaping his mouth. “So is Crush.”

You looked down at the page before looking back at him. “You forgot your number one.”

“Fine, #1 Crush.” he rolled his eyes. “Happy?” 

You bit your smile back before handing him his notebook back. “This sounds needlessly complicated.”

“It is.” Mattheo laughed. “Producers and whatnot trying to change my sound—or managers deciding I need another lyricist on my track. It’s all ridiculous.”

Your hands rested on your lap as you listened, watching the discomfort from his body melt away just so. “Isn’t the point of being a songwriter to write your own songs?” you laughed.

“They don’t really like my style.” he smirked—a wink making its way to you as he tossed the notebook off to the side. “Do you want to go out again?”

You shrugged. “Why not?”

hello everyone, i hope you guys enjoyed! i thought that i would post a couple of snippets before i focus on this series that im working on, so have some rockstar!mattheo <3 thanks so much for reading!

nav . masterlist . library blog . side blog

© wistericaine 2025. do not copy, translate or claim any of my works as your own. reblogs + comments are so very appreciated!

[withluvvenus]

　　　　

　　　　　　𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝓝𝐄𝐖 𝐒𝐀𝐌 & 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐁𝐘 !! 　　　　　　Slushy Noobz 　　　　　　　　　　1.1M Views

　

　　　a snippet into the video posted by the Slushy Noobz 　　　　　 , featuring me and mandy

[ timestamp - 1 : 32 ]

starts off with martin and hamzah showing us the entrance of the abandoned school . we go in and sit by the lockers , we all bought backpacks so we do a what's in our bag haul !! in the middle of the hallway . . . i go last .

me : soo i have this cute little backpack ! i bought my trusty stuffed animal that mandy bought me ! thanks mandy !

mandy : i did NOT buy that ugly thing for you

me : bro shut up i'm trying to make you look generous . anyway , i was supposed to bring the ouija board but i got too scared so i bought monopoly instead !

hamzah : oh this guy stinks !

martin : yeah dude , can you believe her ?

they're both doing that thing where they close into each other and pretend like they're making fun of someone , but it's even more funnier to watch them . mandy and i side eye each other like , " can you believe them ? " .

me : girl WHATEVER . anyWAYS i also bought sonny angels to unbox -

and then we hear the LOUDEST thud ever . mandy , martin , and i all scream and i'm ready to run right out the door from where we entered . guess what ? it was just hamzah dropping his god damn phone .

[ timestamp - 23 : 42 ]

after walking around the abandoned school and doing absolutely nothing whatsoever , finding nothing , and getting scared only when one of them jumpscares mandy and i , mandy and i sit down in the cafeteria and unbox the sonny angels !!!

mandy : okay guys we're unboxing some sonny angels at this abandoned school ! i really hope i get the lopsided ear bunny to be honest . . . what 'bout you ?

me : ummm i really want this doggie !!

we unbox and i get what i want but mandy doesn't . . . cue mandy's crashout .

　　overall 　 this video consists of screams , jokes , and a lot of laughter in the middle of the hallways of an abandoned school . martin keeps trying to convince us that the school is actually haunted , hamzah believes him , but mandy and i lowkey can tell they're joking .

　

﹫luckygirlsyndrome 　♫ ghostbusters・ray parker jr.

liked by hamzahthefantastic , thatmartinkid , mattsturniolo , and 8.5K others

luckygirlsyndrome　　go watch the new video on slushy noobz if u r cool

mandys_iphone　　sam n colby should be scared

clairedrakee　　yooo monopoly game night

mattslefttoe　　OMG MATT STURNIOLO LIKED THIS POST ⤷　　thatmartinkid　　omg no way!1!!1!!! eeee ⤷　　hamzahthefantastic　　i can hear the wedding bells ⤷　　luckygirlsyndrome　　OMG SYBAUUU

　　　　　　　　　　　　　 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗹𝘂𝘃 ✶ 𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘂𝘀

[falafels]

Partaking in WIP Wednesday!!

I don’t actually know what that means but anyway here are all of my aftg fic ideas that I either have in progress (material document) or in the incubation stage (intangible string of concepts that sometimes flashbang me in the mind while i’m out)

-Seeing Double: Nicky POV with some snippets or stories from when he became the twins’ guardian. this one i have actually posted a chapter of over on ao3 and chapter 2 still in progress but aaron threatens to kill himself to a customer on his first day ever having a job and andrew punches a hole in a load bearing wall so he can use it as a climbing foothold to reach the rum and chocolate nicky keeps on top of the cupboard

-Leave tonight or live and die this way: Mary Hatford story!! so named for tracy chapman fast car because i love tracy chapman fast car. follows mary from about 6 months after she and nathan got married, lore on inner circle, lola malcolm bashing, nathan wesninski playing jump rope with the line between diva and deranged (hints of Lestat if im being quite honest), mary believing herself to be the sole brain cell possessor while in fact having 30% custody of it at best, and french bashing.

-kevin post psu fic where he moves to boston for his pro team and doesn’t know anyone, gets hammered at the first bar he finds and it turns out to be a college bar near harvard and there’s a trivia night going on. even face down on the bar kevin still grumbles corrections and someone there is highly amused by this so insists he join their team. and they like him so he’s invited to their library study session that week too. and kevin likes them so he goes along to it and realises they’re all harvard nerds and don’t have a clue who he is. and he makes actual friends based on something other than exy, but they all think he’s also a student and he doesn’t correct them. eventually they’re at a bar for a trivia night kevin couldn’t make and see a tv on and an interview of some sports thing and one of them squints and is like holdup. is that KEVIN?? scared of mice, sends emails to authors about typos in their books, probably needs glasses, drinks milk by itself KEVIN? anyway yeah don’t know what to call that one or do with it but i will get to it

-another kevin post psu idea, this time by a few years. again it’s just me inventing friends for kevin. so this one is he gets traded across pro teams (as happens) and it wasn’t that he particularly likes where he was before or who he was with, but he knew the city and he knew the deal, even if his teammates didn’t really like him. anyway, he gets traded across the country and swapped with another player, maybe a USC graduate or at least someone who would have fit in there. and that person reaches out to him to see how he’s settling in or adjusting or any of that, which is very nice but kevin would usually give the fine thanks 👍 or ignore, but he’s drunk and alone enough that he responds and calls them back. and they end up on the phone for hours. that seems to be the last of it and kevin is like ok one (1) person knows i am Cringe and i Feel but we’ll never speak again it’s fine it’s fine until the person checks in again the next week and kevin finds that it’s actually quite nice to have someone know you a little bit and genuinely care how you are, and they talk more about the transfer and kevin tries to impart wisdom about the city he was in (bookstores here and here, gyms here and here but don’t go to that one it’s shit, they sell good smoothies on fifth but don’t walk back down west ave. or you end up in a sea of high schoolers ditching and they are so so mean). and maybe eventually there’s some kind of pro exy event they’re both at and they get to hang out? epilogue where they’re traded to the same team? idk this is again just indulgent that i want kevin to have a friend

-Renee fic! untitled but it’ll probably be an ethel cain lyric when i find one suitable. one of the people incarcerated following the trial against the gang she grew up in is released on parole, disappears, and suddenly three little girls turn up dead. and she knows it’s him, of course it is, but nobody seems to be doing anything. and he’ll be working his way over to her, she’s part of the reason he went to prison, but he’ll kill a path there. so renee sets aside her crucifix necklace and decides to kill him first. god’s sword arm? or a matter of hunting? she doesn’t like to think of it as either, but she leaves palmetto with her knives and a look on her face nobody but andrew has seen before, calmly assures them she’ll be back in a few weeks at most, and dives headfirst. it’s like one of those moments where you hit the water so hard you think you’ll never breathe again, and it slows down a bit, and something changes. after grappling with the ‘healed way to kill someone’, renee gives herself more and more permissions to shift back into natalie shields behaviours, but catches herself before she catches the guy. she recognises that she’s doing that formulaically, but that ultimately what she’s trying to achieve here doesn’t actually conflict with any one of her values, and when she kills him it’s with a bible in her rucksack and a sparkly purple cat charm on her keys. idk a lot of the specifics of that might change but i chew on renee a lot and i think we all should.

-aforementioned jerejean au where jean is a firefighter and jeremy is at the seminary training to be a priest. not quite fleabag shit because i could never do that to jean, but very unlikely and somehow working. jeremy im giving you religious problems because i think they would suit you. jean im giving you being hot and sweaty and saving people because im a pervert. also something i like there about first responder/last responder. and how that’s kind of what each of them need? jeremy is the final breath and the calm reassurance, but there’s something in him that wants to run and scream and yell and have the stakes be as high as they can, be able to do something with an instant material result. jean is always under the most pressure he possibly can be, trying to keep everyone alive, and sometimes secretly wants a moment of quiet that he doesn’t think he deserves and would feel horribly guilty if he got. anyway jean being vaguely amused by closet adrenaline junkie trainee priest and jeremy fascinated by the tall french firefighter who refuses to forgive himself for being alive.

and i think that’s all of them for now!! my notes app is just this with various scenes and lines that i want to put in each one but would need to write 6 chapters to get to. bummer ANYWAY if you made it this far i am sorry and ily and i hope u have a great day <3

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Wip Whenever...

Tagged by @skyrim-forever and @silly-little-diary Thank you guys for tagging me. I'll be commenting soon :)

I'm a bit erg feeling atm (cold on top of migraine on top of medication side effects) so I've been sleeping on and off. I have gotten some art and writing done, however, so I'll post a bit of both.

Art!

Looks like Josh has some tattoos and finger pigments. Yay! Next on the list is scars and then hair and accessories. We're getting there.

Below the cut is a snippet of chapter 17 of Sleepers Awake, or Joshi's meeting with the Urshilaku Gulakhan goes exactly as well as you think.

Writing!

“There is no rule against seeking audience to speak about such practices,” Erra cut in, “If the Outlander wishes to ask about the Nerevarine Prophecies, that is his right. It is ultimately up to the Ashkhan to determine his worth. You know this.”

Zabamund leaned forward, a look that Teldryn could only describe as disgust-fuelled fury plastered across his features as he bared his teeth at Erra, “And you know that determining one’s worthiness falls to me, an’zil.”

Teldryn balled his hands into fists as he rested them on his knees, “I have given you gifts, I have stated my business clearly and I have observed your customs to the fucking letter. What more do you fucking want!”

The Gulakhan’s smile sent shivers down Teldryn’s spine as his attention switched back to him and his outburst. He could see the colour draining from Erra’s face as the two mer stared each other down, and he could see him slowly shake his head as he mouthed the words, ‘Please, no.’

“What I want, Outlander,” The Gulakhan spat as he pointed his axe, not at Teldryn, but towards Erra, “Is for the two of you la’sumu to get out of my sight!”

Teldryn straightened his posture, his left hand moving towards the hilt of his sword as he stared down the Gulakhan, “An I’m not leaving this tent without my audience.”

Zabamund flared his nostrils at Teldryn’s statement, his grip on his axe tightening further, “Which you will not have, Outlander. You will not bother the Ashkhan with such trivial matters. He has no love for outsiders.”

“Then we seem to be at an impasse,” Teldryn grimaced, raising onto the balls of his feet, he had the feeling he might need to move quickly. He rolled his shoulders as Erra reached for his arm. He looked down at his companion, who seemed to be in some distress.

“Please, no.” He whispered, his grip slacking a little.

Teldryn sighed and looked back towards the Gulakhan, whose face had started flushing a little. Rage, most likely rage, he thought as he balanced on the balls of his feet.

“Do you know what you are asking, Outlander?” The Gulakhan taunted as he leaned back in his seat.

“I know that you’ll accept an honour challenge,” Teldryn stated, raising his brow a little, “I’ll duel you for the right to meet with your Ashkhan.”

The Gulakhan grinned at him, leaning forward once again, “You wish to duel me, Outlander? Are you sure?”

“Teldryn, no—”

“I said I will duel you for the right to speak with your Ashkhan,” Teldryn repeated, glancing quickly at his guide. He apologised to the mer under his breath and stood, his grip firmly on the hilt of his wakizashi as he stared down the Gulakhan, “Until first blood, it will do me no good killing you.”

Zabamund raised an unruly brow at him as he stroked the thin beard that grew from his chin, “Very well, Outlander, if that is what you wish.” He stood, using his axe to steady himself. A leg injury, maybe? Something Teldryn could use to his advantage. The Gulakhan rolled his shoulders as he spoke, “Weapons only, and we duel to the death.”

“Until first blood, I’m not fighting past that,” Teldryn shook his head as he stood his ground, “First blood and no magic.”

The Gulakhan smiled, slowly approaching Teldryn, though his gaze seemed focused on his companion, who was only just getting to his feet, “I will enjoy slaying your companion, an’zil.”

Teldryn withdrew his sword ever so slightly, though he remained firmly in place as he stared down the Gulakhan. Zabamund certainly was walking with a limp, something he knew he could easily exploit if he played his first moves right. He just had to wait for the bastard to strike. Teldryn took a deep breath and readied his stance. If his goal was to knock Zabamund on his ass, he needed to start with a strong stance, “Never agreed to a duel to the dea—”

Zabamund swung his axe towards Teldryn’s face, and he acted quickly, unsheathing his blade and parrying the attack away from him. He quickly rolled to his left, away from the mer as he regained his bearings.

Teldryn landed on his feet just in time to dodge yet another swing from the Gulakhan, leaping instead to the mer’s right as he swung forward. There was power behind the mer’s swing, far more than what Teldryn was capable of, but he was slow, and his war axe was better suited for the open battlefield. Teldryn’s wakizashi was better suited to this sort of close-quarters combat. It’s why he’d chosen it when he was browsing Suran’s markets — he usually got into fights that required something more personable. Plus, he liked the balance of it…he’d even recently redecorated its hilt to match its scabbard. The bright blue tone made him smile, and he’d always been a bit of a show-off.

It was kinda what he was doing here, he wanted to show his guide just what he could do. Something about the mer’s comments that morning made him determined to prove him wrong. Of course, that was far easier in his head when he was puffing on a fucking cigarette. He’d made this plan without even seeing the guy. He’d gone off his usual style of fighting that he’d picked up whilst in prison and tried to merge with the swordplay he’d been learning since his release. The aim was to tire his opponent out early and disarm him quickly. He knew he would never stand a chance of attacking outright; he simply wouldn’t have enough power behind his strikes to do enough damage. This method had served him well since he was a kid…only he’d mostly been fighting guys who were about as malnourished as he was.

[sharieb]

hi! just dropping by to say i looove your non!mc series. i read your original post about the concept and i too was curious about the aftermath of angsty non!mc fics so thanks for filling that void! so grateful for the work you share with us :”)

but also, it got me thinking, i know very little about caleb in-game, but from the snippets i’ve seen, he seems to be the least likely to get hung up on non!mc considering how attached and borderline obsessive he is over mc (captive bird scene, for example) would love to hear your thoughts on this! 🤓

Hi darling, I'm glad that you enjoy reading my fic. It's nice to know that you find it interesting to invest in reading the entire series. As for my thoughts on Calbe's relationship with non-MC, I had always seen him as one of the LIs that would have a really hard time having any romance with non-MC due to the trauma-bond (how I personally see it at the start when they're kids) he has with MC. It's understandable as MC was the only person he had known the longest besides their adopted grandma. It also comes down to how Calbe always had the need to protect MC and have her depend on him for so long that the thought of MC not needing him anymore caused his once hidden obsessive tendencies for MC to surface. For this reason, it became the norm for most Calbe x Non-Mc fanfic to be angst, since his duty and love (whether it's romantic or platonic, depending on the fic you read) for MC always hinders any romantic progress with Non-Mc, to the point that Non-Mc ends up moving on, while Caleb began to accept his love for Non-Mc and the need to be with her, all too late. It's not to say he can't have fluff fics with non-MC; however, the angst genre just fits well with his situation with Non-MC.