#also please congratulate me for managing not to use any references for the figures

[edennill-archived]

Do I low-key hate the frankensteined architecture of this? Yeah. Am I proud of finishing the lineart nonetheless? Also yeah.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 325: Deku VS the Outside of U.A. ~Conclusion~

Previously on BnHA: Ochako was all “dear bloodthirsty mob, this kid you see standing before you has fought harder than anyone and put his life on the line to protect you all, so please chill the fuck out, jesus christ. like, putting aside that he’s humanity’s best hope and so it’s very much in your best interests to let him rest and recover someplace safe so that he can keep fighting for us, are y’all seriously going to turn away an injured and exhausted child in front of his sobbing mother?? seriously?? come on now.” I’m paraphrasing here but that’s basically how it went down. Anyway so then the mob was all, “...” and Deku collapsed to his knees in tears, and Gigantic Fox Lady and Kouta ran over to give him a hug but then the chapter ended.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “FINE, YOU CAN HUG HIM”, which, was that so hard?? The U.A. Clown Mob is all “come to think of it, we’ve kind of been taking the heroes for granted this entire time, maybe we should be less passive in the future. anyway so Deku if it’s not too much to ask, can you please save everyone and fix everything.” Deku is all “I sure can, and by the way I forgive you for swarming around all menacingly two minutes ago and trying to deny me basic shelter and stuff.” Ectoplasm is all, “hey Todogang get a load of this. [walks in a circle].” Hawks is all, “that’s literally the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.” Rat Principal is all, “anyway so that’s what your students did today, hope you’re enjoying your new *~*ROBOT LEG*~*, Aizawa.” Aizawa is all “[lots of exposition about Kurogiri and for some reason, Toga, while being all brooding and sexy].” All Might is all “[standing here right outside of U.A. doing absolutely nothing and being foreboding AF]” and that immediately sucked away all of the warm fuzzy feelings from the hugs, goddammit.

each new week has become a waiting game of “when will Deku finally get to take a bath so people will actually be willing to go near him and give him the hugs he deserves.” the stakes have never been so compelling. I’ve almost forgotten about AFO entirely

lmaoooooo

me: for the love of god will someone please give Deku a hug before I die of old age

Mineta: YOU GOT IT!! --

Iida: [SWIFTLY CUTS HIM OFF] NOT YOU

fucking losing it at Mineta’s crying face. he really wanted to hug him. I legit feel bad but this is also the funniest thing I have seen all week, omg

somehow Kouta, who last week was only a hand’s breadth away from touching Deku’s head, is now twenty miles away from him in this new chapter

can I make a Loki reference here. is this recap a good place to insert a joke about someone using a TVA time-rewinding device to fuck with my poor boy Kouta over here. well anyway there it is

AND NOW HE’S BACK ALL OF A SUDDEN OMG

(ETA: since when is he “niichan” omg?? can’t handle this cuteness.)

BUT THEY’RE STILL NOT HUGGING HIM FFFFKFFFFF. WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO. WHO DO I HAVE TO BRIBE AND/OR BLACKMAIL

OH NO KOUTA IS CRYING THAT’S IT I’M DONE FOR

“when I heard that lady I knew that I had to go, but then stop again within inches of actually touching you because you smell like week-old rotten onions.” listen Kouta, I’m not saying I don’t get it, but you all can’t keep doing this to me. it’s the way you guys keep teasing it. like, if you’re gonna hug him, hug him. don’t just stand there with your arms held rigidly out in front of you like a molded action figure

OH MY GOSH BUT HE SAID THE THING

KOUTA SWOOPING IN AT THE LAST MINUTE TO TAKE ALL THE CREDIT FOR FIXING DEKU LIKE THAT ONE KID IN THE GROUP PROJECT WHO DOES ABSOLUTELY NOTHING BUT STILL TAGS HIS NAME ONTO THE REPORT ANYWAY, WHAT A KNAVE

GASP

(  ´͈ ᗨ `͈ )

SHE PICKED HIM UP LIKE A LITTLE BABY OMG?? she just leaned right over and lifted this child like he was a small animal. like a lil baby futon that she was about to hang up to dry. oh my god

-- HEY WHAT

(: well that’s extremely fucked up. though sadly not too surprising given what we just saw these past couple chapters

incidentally, I hope that anyone who was legitimately defending the civilians’ perspective earlier takes note here of how quickly that line of thinking -- “we’re just trying to keep our families safe” and all that-- can lead to straight up bigotry. if you’re willing to deny a child shelter and protection simply because he’s not YOUR child, and because you’ve decided based on Internet rumors (no real-world parallels there, I’m sure) that he might present a threat, it’s really not that much further of a leap to discriminating against entire groups of people simply because you perceive those groups as being dangerous. I’m sure the people who turned Gigantic Fox Lady away also told themselves afterwards that they did it to protect their families. “better safe than sorry.” “she’ll be fine, someone will take her in, but as for us, we can’t afford to take that risk.” people can come up with all kinds of justifications for treating other people as less than human, and the really scary thing about it is how fucking easy it is

one last quick side note, which is that Horikoshi does a great job here of showing how scapegoating works, given that AFO is the one who’s really to blame and who presents the actual threat, and yet Deku is the one who ultimately winds up being the target of the mob’s fear and outrage despite him being as much of a victim as they are. gotta love that irony, which unfortunately plays out far too often in the real world as well.

anyway I’ll get off my soapbox now, sorry about that. let us continue

YES, FINALLY OH MY GOD!!!!

AND THAT’S THE STORY OF HOW GIGANTIC FOX LADY BECAME THE GREATEST HERO. PACK IT ALL UP, WE’RE DONE HERE KIDS

holy shit. the real MVP right there. thanks for getting it done champ

jesus christ I have had it up to here with these people

literally the bar is set so low at this point that I’ll go ahead and take it. helping him because it offers them a tactical advantage is at least one step up from not helping him at all

“WHY NOT SHIKETSU�� MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

-- thank you!!

okay this one guy with the antennae hair is having himself a character development speedrun here

-- okay, but this part?? fucking this part, right here??

can we repeat that again?? the part where this guy acknowledges that the problems of hero society were caused not just by said heroes, but also by said society?? the part where he acknowledges that they treated the heroes like celebrities who were putting on a show for them?? the part where he acknowledges that when push came to shove, the vast majority of those heroes, when faced with a situation that offered no reward, were nonetheless willing to put their lives on the line to protect the very same people who then turned around and blamed them rather than thanking them?? are the civilians of BnHA even allowed to have actual deep thoughts about this stuff. holy shit

bro!!

ANTENNAE HAIR GUY SHOVING KOUTA AND GIGANTIC FOX LADY OUT OF THE WAY TO SLAP HIS NAME ONTO THE END CREDITS AS EXECUTIVE PRODUCER. CONGRATULATIONS SON YOU FIGURED OUT THE CORE PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION AT THE VERY HEART OF THE MANGA. WAY TO GO BUD

meanwhile, on today’s episode of “one more chapter to go till the big volume cliffhanger, how else can I drag things out let’s see”

it’s a panel. of people’s feet. just a bunch of normal feet. with sneakers and shit

this All Might shirt guy is getting more screentime in this arc than 90% of the class 1-A kids

I guess I’m supposed to feel sorry for this dude now that he’s all “if we let you stay here do you promise to somehow magically fix every single problem that we are now currently facing?” those are some ridiculously exacting standards my dude. come on now

KACCHAN SIGHTING

thank fuck I’m not the only one who’s thoroughly unimpressed by absolutely all of this lol. I feel better now. meanwhile Iida and Kouda and Kiri are ready to run over there and hug them all. you guys are way too forgiving. damn you and your pure hearts

anyway so Deku’s like “yeah, definitely”

(ETA: almost forgot to comment on the “I’m no longer alone” part – he basically corrects the guy and says “sorry, but you’ll need to direct that question towards all of us, not just me, because moving forward we’re a team.” good stuff.)

you know what though, all joking aside... fuck yeah. because perfect victory, right. the strongest guys don’t settle for anything less. so I guess Deku has pretty exacting standards himself

also can you all just take a look at this fucking kid who’s got so much light in his eyes now that I’m gonna need eclipse goggles. hot damn. “you’re welcome” says All Might Shirt Guy as he is frantically interviewed by several local news networks asking him how he daringly managed to save Deku all by himself. “well I guess I’ve just never been the kind of guy who can sit back and let a bunch of rabble-rousers blame a little kid for all of humanity’s problems. someone had to step in and take action, you know?”

oH MY GOD THE SCENE IS FINALLY ENDING

don’t let the door hit you on your way out All Might Shirt Guy

but meanwhile, sudden Tododrama action??

oh shit

there are honestly so many ways in which Ochako’s very moving speech could have wildly backfired that I genuinely have no clue where this is headed lol. how exciting!!

so now Horikoshi is once again stalling for time with random filler panels, but this one is 10x better than the shoes lol omg

(1) was Ectoplasm’s jacket always this oversized. (2) did you guys know that if you go back to chapter 319 you can see that Horikoshi gave us a sneak peak at Enji’s Sad Detective disguise and I in fact made a joke about it in the 319 recap not realizing it was actually the stone cold truth. (3) did Shouto deliberately speed up out of impatience because Hawks was walking so fucking slow and he couldn’t take it any longer. (4) and what, I ask you, is up with these dramatic speedlines. so many mysteries here. what a masterpiece

everyone is acting all shocked about something ahh what’s going on

wait what

what the heck. did they just loop around behind everyone. what was the point of that lol. “anyway, so this is what they look like from the back” well okay, thanks for that Ectoplasm

(ETA: so it seems like they were actually hanging out someplace else away from the crowd this whole time, I guess? here I thought they had more faith in Enji’s disguise. I guess Shouto and Hawks don’t particularly want to attract this crowd’s attention themselves right now either, though.)

I am so fucking confused lmao

speaking of All Might WHERE THE FUCK IS HE lol. but yes, good, OFA brings everyone together, and Hawks is very deeply moved about this out of the blue all of a sudden. you know how it is

aw heck yeah now this is another filler panel I can get behind

Mineta really wants that hug, good lord. I genuinely love this actually. Mineta if you could just stay little and cute and keep crying about how much you love your classmates in a non-gross way for the rest of the series I would be so appreciative. you’re doing great

IIDA IS HOLDING DEKU’S HAND THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ONE TIME WASN’T ENOUGH FOR MY MAN HE’S ADDICTED NOW

what did I tell you. Kiri wants to get all of the mob’s autographs now. Kiri you’re a peach

Shouji having a conversation with another mutant type is a very nice touch! we really need to get to his backstory soon. I feel like that casual remark from GFL earlier was kind of hinting at more to come

is this the first time we’ve ever seen the Yaoyorictionary in action?? never forget that Viz tried to call it the “Yaoyorozu Reference Book” because they hate fun

last but not least, KAMIBAKU IS BACK ON THE MENU, FUCK YEAH. Kaminari trying to spice things up and introduce a little bit of controversy by smacking Kacchan on the back of the head for god knows what. I will be deeply disappointed after this if I can’t find at least one person unironically declaring that KamiBaku is now toxic and abusive

lfkdlWLWK TODODRAMA??

oh my god. Shouto’s face. Enji’s face. the back to “oyaji” again. the blunt, not-taking-no-for-an-answer, “I don’t know how much louder the universe can scream at you that doing things alone is not it, so hopefully you got the point” directness of it. fffdlkslj I’m so ready for this Horikoshi please don’t fuck it up my expectations are so high

HOLY FUCK

I SCROLLED DOWN AND HE WAS ALL “( ❛‿❛)” AND I JUST WASN’T FUCKING EXPECTING THAT OKAY. JESUS CHRIST. GIVE ME A SEC

lol okay moment over and now Enji’s pulling his hat down all dramatically like a world-weary Cowboy

OH MY GOD WERE YOU FACETIMING??

AHHHHHHHHH

(ETA: not to put Iida down or anything, but it’s kind of strange that Aizawa is all “the class rep sure did great” when Ochako is the one that was giving that whole big speech for like twenty minutes just now lol.)

(ETA 2: “thank god Iida stepped in just in the nick of time to keep Mineta from hugging Deku.” sorry Mineta I really do like you lately but it’s still low-hanging fruit lol.)

HE LOOKS SO SAD??! HE LOOKS LIKE HEARTBREAK ITSELF??! I AM BESOUGHT WITH THE URGE TO REACH INTO MY SCREEN AND PULL HIM INTO THE SAFETY OF MY ARMS??? MY GOD, AND I THOUGHT DEKU NEEDED HUGS

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH okay I was gonna just hold down the letter H for a full minute and count it out loud but within about ten seconds I realized I needed to chill lol

-- but then again NO, I DON’T NEED TO CHILL, I HAVE ZERO CHILL, ACTUALLY, BECAUSE IT’S AIZAWA WITH A ROBOT LEG AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

COMPLETE WITH ROBOT TOES FOR THAT EXTRA TOUCH OF AUTHENTICITY!! I LIKE HOW HORIKOSHI PUT ALL THIS EXTRA “!!!” EMPHASIS AROUND IT IN CASE WE COULD SOMEHOW POSSIBLY FAIL TO TAKE NOTICE. “REMEMBER, EVERYONE?” SAYS HORIKOSHI HELPFULLY. “REMEMBER THAT TIME AIZAWA CHOPPED OFF HIS OWN LEG?” oh wow now that you mention it we somehow forgot all about that. like who do you take us for

OH NO NOT THE SAD BOYFRIEND ANGST THAT I WAS SECRETLY LOOKING FORWARD TO WITH GLEE

well at least he’s not M.I.A. or back with the villains again like I thought he might be. still, that’s gotta be brutal to know your friend is in there somewhere, but to not be able to reach him again no matter how hard you try. that’s the kind of angst that pays off in final battles just when you most expect it. such is my hope, at any rate

what’s this now??

trying to decide if this is Horikoshi’s way of saying don’t worry about that, or his way of saying definitely worry about that lol

anyway so Aizawa is out here being all irresponsibly handsome once again. when is someone going to do something about him

here for Sexy Robot Leg Eyepatch Aizawa clenching his fists and making speeches about revenge. pretty sure we’re all here for that

WELL, WELL, WELL

IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME

I’M VERY GLAD YOU’RE ALIVE AND SEEMINGLY WELL, THOUGH!

BUT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK THOUGH, ALL MIGHT

ffff. bracing myself for that cliffhanger next week. you’d better not touch one hair on this man’s head Horikoshi. I’m watching you 

[jikookiekosmos]

When I Dream of You || jjk

➥Pairing: best friend!jungkook/reader, husband!jungkook/reader

➥Summary: Jungkook always imagined being with you was like a dream come true, and after years of pining he can finally say it’s all he could have ever hoped for and more. But what happens now when Jungkook’s dreams about you no longer have a happy ending?

➥Genre: established relationship, (somewhat?) heavy angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~6.2k (little much for a drabble i know, sorry)

➥Content warnings: story mostly told from jungkook’s POV, jungkook has a nightmare, feelings of insecurity and anxiety, mentions of harassment (not much), yoongi to the rescue (seriously he’s the voice of reason i love him), making out, grinding, slight hair pulling, riding on top, reader is in control (and jk is happy about it), unprotected sex (safe sex is great sex), cumming inside, cute times in the shower, jungkook is actually the sweetest, reader and jk are so in love with each other it hurts, also jk saying ‘only for you’ is a thing i started and can’t stop now oops

A/N: hello! This is part of my Only for You (OFY) Drabble series, but it can be read as a stand-alone! Their relationship will make a lot more sense though if you’ve read OFY beforehand. This fic takes place roughly around a year after the events of OFY. (I also mentioned this in the post for OFY but for those who haven’t read it, the Kun in the story isn’t referring to any other irl person specifically, it was just a name I chose to make the initial story easier to write.)

As always, thank you to @dntaewithluv​ for being so supportive of me and motivating me to keep writing when there are times I feel like I shouldn’t. And for also being my beta-reader and just generally an amazing person, one of the best friends I could ever ask for.

I’ve written a few other drabbles and will list them below, along with a general timeline:

Use My Best Colors For Your Portrait - ~6 months after OFY

Stay With Me - a few months after this dream drabble

I know this is the most angsty thing I’ve written so far (update: Stay With Me now holds this title), but I got attached to these characters and wanted to tell more of their story so here we are. I basically wrote this all in one sitting because I’ve had this idea in my head for a little while and I was excited to get it out. I hope that if you read this, you enjoy it~

➥OFY Spotify Playlist (songs I listened to for inspo)

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn​​

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Jungkook was dreaming again.

It was a dream he’d had many times now, and it always started the same way. He watched as you appeared in the doorway of the chapel, ready to make your trek down the aisle.

You looked dazzling in your dress, and through the thin veil that covered your face, Jungkook could see the brilliant smile you wore, which caused him to break out into one of his own. Each step that brought you closer to him made his heart race faster, and it didn’t take long for you to finally be in front of him.

Well…somewhat in front of him.

He could only watch as at the last second, you turned slightly and were now standing in front of Kun, the man you were originally meant to marry. Jungkook’s stomach twisted with fear as he observed Kun lift your veil over your head and take your hands in his as you both stared into each other’s eyes. You, looking at Kun with all the love in the world, because that’s just how you were. And Kun, looking back at you, with a sinister expression that made Jungkook feel dizzy.

He opened his mouth to object, to speak, to do something but no sound would come out. Everyone around him that had gathered to see you get married were either oblivious to Jungkook’s obvious distress, or they just didn’t care.

They weren��t here for him, after all. They were here for you, in the same way that he was here for you, too.

When his legs could finally move without crumpling underneath him, he walked over to stand next to you and Kun as he tried to reach out to you. He couldn’t touch you, though, because it was like there was an invisible wall in between the two of you now. A wall he could still see through but couldn’t reach past. He moved back at the realization, only to be met with something similar hitting his back.

Jungkook whirled around and was met with the same thing, now surrounding him on all sides, trapping him inside some sort of box. A box where he could still see what was happening but couldn’t stop it despite what he did. He felt suffocated.

He was shouting from inside his new prison, banging on the walls, trying to make any sort of sound that would reach you. And he knew you couldn’t hear him; you didn’t spare even one glance his way. But he still had to try. The longer he let this go on, the greater the chance of losing you grew to be.

And the possibility of that, of losing you in any capacity, was something he couldn’t bear to even think about.

Jungkook could hear everything coming from your mouth. The cheerfulness in your voice was usually something he loved to hear under any given circumstance. But in this case, it was threatening to tear him apart. He listened dismally as the two of you started reciting your vows to each other.

And his heart started to break when he heard the words from the letter he’d tried to give you all those years ago. Tears were forming in his vision as he listened to Kun rattle off the words he’d written for you. Words he never got to claim as his own until much later, when it was almost too late.

He could feel his heart shatter at the sight of the breathtaking smile on your face as you two finished your vows, moving now to kiss each other and seal the deal.

He tried once more to call out to you, but any sound he could’ve possibly made would’ve been immediately drowned out by the cheering from everyone around you.

His legs gave out as he knelt down to the floor, helplessly staring at you as you linked your arm with Kun’s to walk back down the aisle as a newly married couple. It took the last bit of his strength to look up as you passed, and you didn’t notice him.

But Kun did.

Kun paused in front of Jungkook, still separated by that invisible wall, and he grinned. It was the kind of grin you’d expect from someone who’s sole purpose in life was to sabotage others’ happiness. Which, ironically enough, is exactly what Kun was now known for.

All Jungkook could do was look on while you left the chapel, followed by the many guests who had gathered for the ceremony. Only when everyone was gone was he able to move about freely, but he opted to remain seated on the floor there instead as the chapel slowly started to fill with darkness once the doors closed.

Jungkook awoke with a start, bolting upright and inhaling a sharp intake of air. He was covered in sweat that dampened his hair and made it stick to his forehead. His breathing was shallow, and it took him a few seconds to remember where he was.

He was at home, in his bed. It was nighttime and sleeping next to him was a figure who’d remained undisturbed by his sudden movement.

He cautiously looked over at your sleeping form. You were turned on your side, facing away from him, breathing peacefully. His eyes softened at the sight and he could feel his heartbeat start to slow down into a pace much less frantic.

He pushed his hair out of his face as he took a deep breath. He knew he should probably wake you, especially since you always told him to do so whenever he had nightmares. Lately, he hadn’t been having any bad dreams, so it had been a while since he last had to rouse you from your slumber.

He reached an arm out, only for it to gently fall by his side. He hated waking you unless it was really important, because he knew you sometimes had trouble sleeping, and this included falling back asleep if something made you wake up during the middle of the night. You’d been especially exhausted lately, what with the new exciting event that had suddenly happened in both of your lives.

Well, exciting wasn’t really the right word. Terrifying fit way better.

After managing to avoid Kun for over an entire year, he somehow turned up at your new place of employment one day, surprising you and frightening you all at the same time. He told the staff at the front desk that he was an ‘old friend, here to congratulate you on your new position.’ And they believed it, so they let him come up to your office unsupervised.

Let’s just say when Jungkook heard about that little ordeal, he was not pleased at all.

Ever since then, Kun had been borderline harassing you, even sometimes going as far as to try and talk to Jungkook during his shifts at the bar. That lasted for all of maybe 2 encounters before Kun found himself banned and unable to return.

You both thought he was out of your life for good after the break-up, but he was proving to be much more of a plague than you or Jungkook initially imagined. So yes, these recent events had maybe been causing Jungkook to have intrusive thoughts once again that translated themselves into the one recurring nightmare he used to have shortly after the two of you got together.

The nightmare of him losing you. You obviously didn’t end up marrying Kun, but you came a lot closer to it than Jungkook liked. And that wasn’t because he’d been pining after you for years; he could’ve dealt with that, if it ended with you being happy. It was more so the reason that your relationship with Kun hadn’t seemed genuine on his end, and Jungkook wanted better for you than that.

Sometimes he wondered if he was the right one to give you what you deserved.

He shook his head to keep more thoughts from seeping in, but he knew sitting here alone in the dark wouldn’t help with that for long. He glanced at the time on his phone. It was 2:08 A.M., so not too late, but most people were usually sleeping at that time.

Nonetheless, Jungkook pulled back the covers and swung his feet over the side of the bed to stand up. He moved as gently as possibly to not risk waking you, but on his way to the bathroom he had to pass by your side of the bed.

Your sleeping face was free of worry, and your lips were slightly parted as you were breathing softly. The sight made Jungkook’s heart thump. He couldn’t help himself when he leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead.

If you woke up, he’d just tell you he had to use the restroom and try to coax you back to sleep. You looked too cute for him not to kiss you, though, so he deduced it was worth the risk.

He padded off to the bathroom then, only wearing a pair of gym shorts. Every step he took was calculated so he didn’t make much noise, and when he finally made it to the bathroom, he closed the door as quietly as possible, listening to the faint click before he leaned against the sink.

He sighed and fished his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts until he found the name he was looking for. After dialing the number, he put the phone to his ear, and within 2 rings someone picked up.

“Kook? You ok?”

Jungkook smiled. “Yeah, Yoongs, I’m ok. Just needed to talk to someone, that’s all.”

He heard shuffling from the end of the line and he felt a small pang of guilt at the fact that he may have woken his friend up. But then again, it was Yoongi, and he wasn’t a stranger to being up at this hour.

Yoongi hummed. “Y/N not awake then, huh?”

Jungkook shook his head, despite Yoongi not being able to see him. Yoongi took his silence as confirmation.

“Hm, well you do know I love talking to you, but I am wondering why this time of night?”

Jungkook sighed. Better to get it over with than beat around the bush. “I had a nightmare.”

“Oh no,” he could hear the somberness of Yoongi’s tone. “Is it the same one, or…”

“Same one,” Jungkook answered without hesitation.

“Kook, we’ve been over this-”

“I know,” he groaned, running a hand down his face. “I know. Trust me, I don’t want to keep having this happen either.”

“Can you think of anything that may have triggered it?”

Jungkook tongued his cheek then. The more he thought about it, the only thing he could see as being a potential trigger for these dreams to come flooding back would be Kun’s unwanted reappearance.

While he was still thinking, Yoongi continued.

“Do you think it has anything to do with that asshole showing up again?”

Jungkook smirked. He knew how much disdain Yoongi had for Kun, and for good reason.

“Yeah, it’s exactly that, I’m almost positive.”

It sounded like Yoongi was moving again and Jungkook could just picture him now, sitting up and shaking his head in disappointment, not at Jungkook, but at the situation.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna level with you.”

Jungkook gulped.

“I honestly have no idea why you’re letting someone like that affect you. He’s not worth your time, he’s not worth Y/N’s time, not worth anyone’s time if you ask me. Letting him continue to have this kind of effect on you isn’t healthy.”

Jungkook sighed again, his breath coming out somewhat shaky. “I know, it’s just…it’s hard. It’s really hard, Yoongs. I can’t help but think of how close I came to losing her and fuck it hurts every time I think about it.”

“First of all, you wouldn’t have lost her, and you know that-”

“Yeah but seeing him is a reminder that I came close.”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi’s tone was stern now, and Jungkook immediately stopped talking.

Yoongi took a deep breath. “Like I was saying, you wouldn’t have lost her. You mean too much to her and she means too much to you for either of you to have let that happen. Give her a little more credit, yeah?”

At the mention of you, Jungkook’s lips curved upwards into a smile. He knows you’d never allow anything to take you away from him, outside of maybe some things beyond both of your control. But you certainly would never let someone come in between the friendship you both shared.

A friendship that had developed over several years and had now blossomed into a beautiful, loving partnership.

There it was again: you. Anytime Jungkook thought about you, it always made him happy. He was so in love with you and had been for so many years, so it was sometimes still surreal to him that you two were together now. Your smiling face was all he needed to get him through some days.

But right now the vision of you playing out in his head was the sight of you the night he found you in your house kneeling on the floor after Kun broke your marriage off. You looked so utterly broken, and Jungkook made a promise to himself then and there that he’d do anything in his power to make it so you never felt that way again.

“Kook? You still with me there?”

Yoongi’s voice roused Jungkook out of his thoughts. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good. You know I worry about you, kid.”

Jungkook smiled. “I know.”

“This is the first time you’ve had this dream in a while, right?”

Jungkook leaned against the sink again, looking at the tiled floor underneath his feet. “Yeah, it’s been months.”

“Then I want you to do something for me, ok?”

Confused, but intrigued, Jungkook shook his head. “Yeah, sure.”

“I want you to take a look at your left hand.”

Jungkook did as he was told, splaying his fingers out in front of him.

“Now tell me what you see?”

Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at his gold wedding band as it glistened faintly in the light of the room.

“My wedding ring,” he answered softly.

“Exactly. Your wedding ring. It belongs to you. And it means you’re the one who’s married to her. Not him, not anyone else, but you.”

Jungkook could see exactly where Yoongi was going with this, and the thought made him almost tear up. Yoongi knew exactly what to say and when to say it whenever Jungkook needed reassurance about something, and this was one of those times.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna tell you this, and it’s something I want you to remember. Y/N loves you. She loves you so much. My God, sometimes it’s hard to look at you two because you’re always so lovey dovey like-”

Jungkook laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

He could imagine Yoongi smiling on the other end. “Good. I think as long as you remember that, you’ll be ok. It’d probably still help to talk to her, though. You know how upset she’d be if she knew you were suffering in silence about your dreams again.”

Jungkook shakily inhaled, his grip on the sink behind him tightening. “I know. I’ll talk to her, probably in the morning since she’s still asleep-”

Jungkook cut himself off when he heard the soft sound of you calling his name. “Yoongs, I gotta go, thank you for answering and for everything else.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Anytime. Night, Kook.”

Jungkook hung up the phone and peered from behind the bathroom door. He saw you sitting up in the bed now, rubbing your eyes before you stretched. He was so fond of you, the sight made his heart swell.

He also noticed how the t-shirt you were wearing had ridden up some during your stretch and he could see the exposed skin of your thighs now now. He even thought that something as simple as you wearing a t-shirt was breathtaking. And when it was one of his t-shirts, like it was now – on some days it was enough to drive him crazy.

Now wasn’t the time for that though. He watched lovingly as you focused your eyes on him and smiled. He wasted no time getting back in the bed with you, seated with one leg crossed under him, his hand coming down to rest on top of your own.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a lazy kiss. Jungkook melted into the kiss when you deepened it, because after everything he just went through, any touch from you now was igniting all his feelings for you.

All of them, which is why he pulled back to rest his forehead against yours.

“Hey,” he said with a smile, nuzzling his nose against yours before pulling away to look at you. He could tell you were still sleepy, but you wouldn’t attempt to go back to sleep without talking first. Especially since he knew you could tell something might be off.

Your brows furrowed. “Koo? What’s wrong?”

Jungkook took a deep breath, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I had another nightmare.”

The immediate look of concern on your face made his heart lurch, and not in a pleasant way. “Baby, what happened?”

He brought up your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles, right above your ring.

“I had that nightmare. You know the one…”

You frowned. “Jungkook-”

“But it’s ok, really. I talked to Yoongi and I feel a little better.” He was looking anywhere but your face now, so you placed a hand under his chin, tilting it up so he’d look at you.

“You know you can always wake me up and talk to me.” You brushed your thumb across one of his cheekbones and he sighed into the touch.

“I know. You’ve been having trouble sleeping lately so I-”

“You also know that if I have trouble sleeping, usually cuddling with you helps. So please don’t use that as an excuse.”

Jungkook felt guilty again because he knew you were right. Before he came along, sleeping wasn’t always easy for you, but in the comfort of his arms, you found slumber much faster these days.

You took Jungkook’s face in both of your hands, your own chest twisting with pain at the sight of him. His big, doe-like eyes were shining with so much emotion, and all you wanted to do was take away all his worries.

“Do you know why you had that dream again?”

Jungkook nodded, absentmindedly brushing his thumb along your thigh. “Everything that’s happened with Kun lately, it- I don’t know, it just bothers me. It bothers me way more than it should. And I guess it just made me think again about- well, you know.”

Jungkook’s head hung then, and you leaned down so you could look into his eyes once more. He brought his head up to keep you from having to lean uncomfortably like that for too long.

“Koo,” you brushed a piece of his long, dark curly locks out of his face. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I know that things happened in the past that we can’t erase or change, but what we can do is focus on our future. Our future that we’re building together.”

He started to smile at your words, his heart lurching again now, but in a good way this time. Every time you told him you were in love with him, he felt like he could conquer the world.

“So please don’t worry about what almost happened or what could’ve been, because what matters is we’re here now. We’re here together. And I don’t plan on going anywhere,” you placed a quick peck on his lips, “Unless you want me to, that is.”

Jungkook quickly wrapped his arms around you and pulled you so you were straddling his lap, making you giggle as you tried to steady yourself. His hands rested comfortably against your waist and you placed yours on his shoulders. He looked up at you now with so much love and adoration.

“Never. I’m not planning on ever letting you go,” he accentuated his words with his grip around you by wrapping his arms more tightly around your waist to pull you closer to his chest. “Not until the day you decide you don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Well I don’t see that ever happening, so I guess we have nothing to worry about then, do we?” You booped his nose and he grinned, placing a hand on the back of your head to bring your lips down to meet his once more. The kiss was soft, yet passionate.

And it quickly turned into something more.

You deepened the kiss and Jungkook groaned into it, kissing you back now with a fervor that had you unconsciously moving your hips against him. He broke the kiss to lean his head back against the headboard, eyes shut and mouth parted.

“Fuck,” Jungkook panted. “I’m so fucking in love with you, Y/N. And right now,” he opened his eyes to stare at you again, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

His hand snaked underneath your t-shirt to brush at the skin he found there, pulling your head back down for another kiss.

“I want to show you how much I love you,” he whispered against your lips. “Will you let me?”

The sound of his voice shot straight to your core, and you were nodding before he could even finish his question. He chuckled against your lips before he started trailing them down your neck.

“Need to hear you say it, baby,” he spoke as his lips ghosted over your throat, his hold on you tightening.

“Please,” you breathed out, pulling at his dark tresses and making him grunt. “Please, Koo. I want you to make love to me.”

That was all he needed. Jungkook started placing kisses along your neck and down to your collarbone that was exposed from the collar of his shirt, his fists clenching around the material at the bottom of it.

“I love you,” he kept saying in between kisses. “Gonna take care of you.”

He started tugging your shirt up and you met him halfway, ridding yourself of the garment fast enough that it made him chuckle at your eagerness. He started peppering kisses all over your chest, kneading at your breasts, rolling your nipples in between your fingers and making your hips move faster.

You could feel him growing harder underneath you through the thin fabric of the shorts he was still wearing, so you sped up your movements, making him moan.

“These need to come off, don’t you think, baby?” You tugged at his shorts. Another moan came from Jungkook as he nodded, helping you move up so he could shimmy out of his shorts. He still didn’t think he could ever get used to that pet name coming from you, and he thought it was the sexiest thing ever when it fell from your lips.

Of course, Jungkook thought nearly everything you did was sexy. That was just the effect you had on him. Everything intimate was intense in the best way possible, and if this was what being in love felt like, he never wanted to stop being in love with you.

He loved you. He needed you. He wanted to be with you for the rest of his life. And he’d never felt this way about anyone else for.

He felt all of these things for you. Only for you.

Jungkook was pulled out of his thoughts of how much he loved you by the feeling of you grinding down onto him again, this time the only barrier of clothing between the two of you being your own panties.

Yeah, Jungkook wasn’t having that.

He made quick work of removing your soaked panties, laughing again at your enthusiastic impatience. He loved seeing that you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

“Be careful, angel,” He cooed at you as you tried to steady yourself on his lap once more. He rubbed his hands up and down your thighs while you huffed, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Just wanna feel you already,” you said breathily, and the sound of your voice mixed with the words that fell from your mouth made him twitch. He knew he probably wouldn’t last long inside of you, and with the way you were already worked up, he figured you might not either.

But tonight wasn’t one of those nights where he planned on going for hours anyway (even though you both definitely could at times and boy did he love it when that happened). No, tonight was about him proving to you how much he loved you, telling you through his words and soft caresses and the way he took care of you.

And you did the same for him. Jungkook had never had anyone care about him before the way that you do. He knew you’d do anything to ensure his happiness, the same as he would for you.

And that’s also why he thought you were destined to be together. And he hoped he would never fuck that up, that anything would ever fuck that up.

Jungkook heard you whine from your place in his lap, still grinding against him to find some much-needed friction. You felt so good on top of him that he let himself enjoy it for a few moments, soft moans escaping his lips as he watched you through half-lidded eyes. You leaned down to give him another kiss, and in the same movement, he picked you up by your thighs under your ass and placed you back down where his tip was at your entrance.

He grunted against your lips as he felt you sink down onto him, waiting for you to accommodate to the stretch as you’d done many times before. You always told him you could handle it and sometimes you wanted him to be a little rougher with you from the get-go. Jungkook wasn’t at that level where he was comfortable with that yet.

But one day, he thought, especially with how good you feel around him, he just might be.

When he was finally completely inside of you, he waited just enjoying the feel of your warmth around his length. He brushed some hair out of your face, noticing how your eyes were glinting in the faint light of the room.

God, he could never get enough of staring into your eyes. He’d happily get lost in them over and over again.

Now, though, they were starting to close as you picked yourself only to drop down again a moment later. The action caused Jungkook to let out a throaty moan, eyes fluttering closed at the motion.

Hm. That was new.

Usually, Jungkook would guide you with his hands on your hips, and it wasn’t that he didn’t let you have control, it was more that you never really wanted to take control. So, seeing you decide to do it now was exciting and something he’d gladly let happen if that’s what you wanted.

To be sure though, he placed his hands on your waist. You placed yours on top of his and shook your head.

“Let me take the lead,” you said as you pushed his chest to where he was lying down more. “You can keep your hands here, but I want to do the work.”

Jungkook frowned, only because he knew you still had to be tired. “Angel, are you sure? I can help- fuck.”

You cut him off as you clenched around him before you started moving again, his hands constricting around your waist. You placed your hands firmly on your chest to help you get more leverage as you continued moving.

As you sped up, Jungkook leaned his head back into the pillow he was lying on, eyes screwed shut and the prettiest sounds falling from his lips. You watched as the muscles in his neck strained with the movement, and that alone made you want to mark him up.

But now wasn’t the time for that.

Jungkook managed to open his eyes and look at you riding him, the sight making him twitch inside of you. He thought you looked so beautiful like this, and you taking the lead was so hot to him, he knew he’d definitely not last long if you kept this up-

“Do you know,” you broke off to moan as his cock hit a spot inside of you that made your breath hitch, “do you know why I wanted to take control tonight?”

Jungkook swallowed and shook his head, rubbing his hands along your waist.

You smiled at him lovingly, taking one of his hands and bringing it to your lips before linking your fingers. The action made his heart soar.

“It’s because you always take such good care of me. I want to take care of you in that same way,” you squeezed his hand, letting your words wash over him.

“But you do take care of me,” he started to say, only to be interrupted by the feeling of your walls clenching around him again.

“I know. But tonight, I want to show you I know how to take care of you in this way, too. I want to show you how much I love you.” You leaned down, hitting a new angle that had both of you moaning as you brushed your lips against his. “Will you let me?”

Jungkook felt himself getting closer as you repeated his words from earlier. He nodded vigorously, kissing you with so much passion that you thought you might topple over. You sat up straight again and started moving faster, now pulling out as much as possible before dropping back down.

Jungkook’s high was approaching fast because of the combination of you taking control, the way you were riding him, and your words. He was feeling so many things at once and he tried to will himself to not let go.

He didn’t want to let go yet, not until you were there with him.

To help you along, he reached down in between both of you and started rubbing your clit, relishing in the feel of you around him as you stuttered in your movements. He smirked, knowing that even when you were in control, he still had an effect on you the same way you did him.

“Come on, angel, I’m right there, I want you to cum with me.” Jungkook’s voice was husky now, the pleasure threatening to overtake him any second. He bit his lip as he stared at you, watching as your head lolled forward on your neck and you started shaking from the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

“I’m almost there, Koo, I love you so much,” your sounds were increasing in pitch and becoming more frequent, so he knew you were close. All that was left now was for you to reach your high together.

He took your hand that was still intertwined with his and placed a kiss on the inside of your wrist. “I love you, too,” he said softly.

His response was enough to finally provoke your orgasm, it being so powerful that you fell forward on top of him. As you did, you were clenching so tight around him that his release wasn’t far behind. He grunted as he placed his head in the crook of your neck, filling you up, the familiar sensation of warmth making you shiver in his hold.

Both of you were trying to catch your breath, you now completely laying on his chest and his arms snaked around you. He placed a kiss on top of your head and you both just laid there for a few moments.

Jungkook was the one to break the silence. “Well, that was certainly something.”

You giggled. “Yeah, I enjoyed that, Don’t know why I haven’t done that before.” You felt his chest rumble with laughter underneath you.

“Me neither, but you can absolutely do it more often. I know I won’t be opposed.”

“Deal,” you said as you leaned up to place a kiss on his nose. “But only under one condition.”

“Oh?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow, intrigued at your proposition.

“You,” you said as you traced patterns on his chest, “need to stop being so cautious with me.”

A tiny frown etched itself onto his features. “Angel-”

“I mean it, Jungkook. I’m not some fragile thing that’s going to break anytime you stick your dick in me.” He couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from him, immediately apologizing afterwards because he knew you were being serious.

“I know you’re not, I just- I never want to hurt you.”

“And I’d let you know if you did. So promise me you’ll at least try to treat me a little less like I’m gonna break under your touch?”

He ran his fingers through your hair as you laid your head on his chest again. “I promise to try. I don’t just do it for you, though.”

You brought your head back up to look at him, quirking your own eyebrow. “Oh? What do you mean?”

He chuckled darkly, his stare alone making you throb. “I also do it so I can maintain some self-control.”

You laughed. “What’s so bad about losing control?”

He smirked. “Nothing, I guess. We’ll have to see though, won’t we?”

The suggestion made you tingle with desire, but you were unfortunately too tired to go again, so you figured it’d be best to leave it alone for the night. Jungkook finally pulled out of you, making you let out a small whine at the loss. Before you could say anything, he picked you up and carried you with him to the shower, as he did most nights when you two shared these intimate moments.

In the shower, he helped you clean off, and as he was washing your hair, you stared up at him, seeing his dark locks falling into his face with the weight of the water that drenched them. His lips were parted and his tongue was slightly sticking out as he concentrated on making sure he lathered every inch of your hair with shampoo. He looked so adorable like this that you couldn’t help but giggle.

You ran your hands along his chest now to help him wash off the soap, and your ring caught the light, glimmering faintly. Jungkook picked up your hand and turned it this way and that to watch the ring shine from different angles, before he linked your fingers together.

“I told you I’d get you a better one, didn’t I?” You rolled your eyes in amusement at the cocky smirk that tugged at his lips.

“You didn’t just tell me, you promised me.” You continued washing all the suds off of him as he wrapped his arms around you to bring you closer.

“And did I follow through on my promise?”

You pretended to think about it for a second, making Jungkook tickle you under the shower’s waterfall. “Ok! Ok! Yes, you did,” you said as you laughed. “You always follow through on your promises.”

“I try,” was his soft response. He nudged your cheek with his nose, which is something he did when he wanted a kiss, a habit you were very quick to pick up on in the early stages of your relationship. You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood up on your tiptoes, placing a gentle kiss on his lips that had him letting out a small sound of contentment.

“I love you. And I’m in love with you. Nothing, nor anyone, will change that.” You reassured him as you pushed his hair out of his face. Any doubts he still had you wanted to erase them all.

You wanted him to know that you loved him with everything you had.

He smiled, brushing his nose against yours. “I know. And I love you more than anything. All the love I have to give is for you.” He placed another soft kiss on your lips before he pulled back to quietly add, “Only for you.”

Those three words meant so much to you, and every time you heard him say them it made you fall for him even more, if that was possible. The two of you continued to hold each other and exchange lazy kisses until the water turned too cold to bear. After drying off, you both snuggled back into bed, with you falling asleep almost instantly, feeling safe in Jungkook’s arms.

He kissed the back of your neck and wrapped his arms around you securely, resting his forehead against your shoulder as you both laid on your sides. Your soft breathing let him know you were already asleep and he smiled, elated that he could provide you the comfort you needed to help you fall into peaceful slumber once more.

When Jungkook inevitably followed behind you, he was met with nothing but pleasant dreams, and all of them were about you.

[writingwithcolor]

Announcement: No Longer Answering Rubber Stamp Questions

Introduction

Here at Writing With Color, we’ve noticed a shift in the questions we are receiving. In the past, the majority of questions challenged the necessity of diversity in fiction or asked for assistance in making diversity seem more plausible in world-building. We also received many questions on how to describe and characterize people of color in respectful ways that didn’t demonize different races, ethnicities and religions.

By and large, we see that our followers understand why these concepts are important, and for that we congratulate you! This kind of progress takes real, long-term, internal work. Our team hopes that any advice or input you received from us over the years has helped you continue to develop as a writer. We hope you will continue to support us in the future and are especially pleased to hear from our non-white commenters who have let us know when our content has let them feel seen or heard.

However…

We have noticed a recent trend in asks that is discouraging. Many askers seem concerned with receiving our blanket approval of a particular concept or character. These asks often don’t provide us with the direction and context crucial to providing advice from a race or ethnicity-based perspective. Examples include:

“I’m writing a character from [insert background] who has [insert traits]. Is this ok?”

“I’m creating a world where I have made [insert concept] the basis of my world-building. Is this allowed?”

Hi, I’m a [insert identity]. Is it problematic to have [concept/ character] in my story?

“I’m creating a [Race A] character with [these] traits, a [Ethnicity 1] character with [those] traits, a [Race B] character with [some other traits] and a [sex/ gender minority] character with a [different set of traits]. Is this combination offensive?

We call these questions rubber stamp questions. If this describes your question, there’s no need to feel bad. We realize that there was never an explicit explanation of this concept. In addition, our team is mindful of the changing demographics of tumblr that might make it mean we are receiving questions from a younger user-base are not yet familiar with many of the principles we outline on this website. However, on that note…

What is Rubber Stamping?

Rubber stamping refers to the practice of seeking an endorsement without questioning or seeking to alter the status quo. The purpose of Writing With Color is to be a focal point for discussion about diversity in writing rather than simply prescribe a series of corrective measures. Without knowing the asker’s intent (Which we can’t, since we aren’t mind readers), our moderators are not in a position to provide you with carte blanche for your writing concept in the name of all other non-white people. Yes, we have a certain level of skill and expertise on many of these topics, but we are not here to take on the burden of all PoC to approve your writing choices. Nor would it be fair to other PoC if you took our response as a reason to dismiss the perspectives of other PoC (An unfortunately common phenomenon).  

Bluntly, on the moderator end, these asks are also incredibly frustrating because they are vague and thus:

Time consuming

Labor intensive (mentally and emotionally)

The last example from the previous section (AKA “Laundry lists”) is particularly time consuming because multiple moderators must collaborate to produce an answer that boils down to each moderator saying, “I guess it depends??? *shrug*” but in slightly different ways.

Perhaps the biggest problem with rubber stamp asks is they feel (to us) like they are more about the asker’s desire for closure/ approval/ virtue signaling than a willingness to participate in the kind of education and discussion on diversity we are trying to foster on this blog.

To that effect: We will no longer be answering such questions.

(If you sent in such ask before this goes up on November 15th, 2020, a moderator may reach out to you individually to better address your inquiry as submitted.)

However: Don’t worry! We also are here to teach you how to makes these questions better!

Fixing Rubber Stamp questions:

1. Be specific.

Instead of Can I/ May I, try “How can I” or “When can I” or “What can I”?

Thus instead of: “I’m Christian. May I create a Jewish character seeking to become an actress in 1920s Hollywood?” —> “How do I, as a Christian, create a compelling Jewish character while being mindful of the interplay between my own intrinsic bias and historical accounts of prominent Jewish figures in early Hollywood?”Or, instead of: “I want to write a story about a modern day piracy in the East Indian Ocean, but with magic. Is this problematic? —> “Given the continuation of modern day piracy in the East Indian Ocean, what are some tropes I should avoid if I decide to go with a modern fantasy set in this region?”

2. Remember: The goal is improved understanding, not approval. Sometimes, you really just want to know *why* you can’t use a particular concept, and that curiosity is good! Questions that ask “Why?” in good faith are often how you can learn a lot about your own intrinsic biases and the limits of your own knowledge.

Thus, instead of: If I write about [controversial topic], am I a bad person? —> Why is it better for someone like me to not write about [controversial topic]?

This approach has the bonus effect of making us feel like you actually care about what we think.

3. Write your question as a draft: Edit your ask at least once or twice to provide as much information as possible while being concise. I’ve told this to college students before, but I can tell when a person wrote their assignment by the quality of the writing. Writing done late at night, when sleep deprived and without at least one edit contains extraneous information while not having a clear point.

Going through your question (Preferably a day after you wrote it) will help you narrow down what you really want to know.

Remember: You all have free will and can write whatever you please. We presume that you seek WWC’s input because you wish to write on issues pertaining to people of color with greater levels of awareness. On a practical note, we recognize that social media, trolling, call-outs, doxxing and other dimensions of cyberbullying make writers online hesitant to do anything unless they think they have the majority of the public on their side. There are times when it is obvious that the asker is asking more because they need approval to feel less anxious when they share their work with others.

However, if the above is your worry, either you aren’t ready to write on this topic or you need to rethink the boundaries you set with the online communities/ individuals you interact with as well as how you manage your internet presence. With respect to personal anxieties when it comes to writing, morality, your conscience and so forth, we recommend turning to your own support systems IRL. As relative strangers on the internet, we are not well-qualified to allay personal concerns.

Remember: Writing with diversity is like training for a marathon. Give yourself permission to expand your comfort zone at the pace your research capabilities and experience allow!

We appreciate that you all trust us to provide helpful, well-thought out feedback for your ideas, and we also thank you for respecting our perspectives even if you may disagree. In the same vein, we request that you put the level of thought into your questions you think appropriate given that another human being is going to spend, at a minimum, several hours coming up with their response. We look forward to hearing from you! 

- The WWC Team

(A link to this article will be added to the pinned FAQ for everyone’s reference)

[diavolosthots]

Could you make a fic about Barbatos meeting his mc's strict religious parents? Idk if he would use his time travel power or not. I don't even know if he's allowed by Lord Diavolo. But that up to what you think

Idc if Solomon is left for this series i am completely and utterly done with this just FYI for anyone who suggests it.

Also! I remember in the game they said diavolo forbids him from using his powers and i have my own theories on that

Warning: religion

Who Has the Time? (BARBATOS X GN!READER)

“I won’t be able to stay long, (Y/N), you know that. Nothing can or will go wrong in the short time that I will be there.” And even that didn’t calm your nerves. Barbatos was probably one of the most well behaved demons, actually people in general, you will ever meet, but it still doesn’t change the fact that he is a demon. Diavolo didn’t even allow him to see into the future because “It will be fun, Barbatos! Just be yourself! And be back for dinner, please…” How is this fun, Diavolo, huh?! You were freaking out and what’s the point of having a time travelling demon boyfriend when he can’t even see into the future so you could prepare yourself for any possible outcomes?! If you weren’t sure Barbatos would fight you for this, you would’ve fought Diavolo right then and there. “That doesn’t give me peace of mind, Barbatos.” He only chuckled. Seriously, what could go wrong? What has he ever done that even remotely resembled bad manners? 

“They’ll like me, (Y/N). If they won’t, I’ll simply never see them again.” Seriously he wouldn’t see an issue with it, either. Like, he’s dating you and not them and if they have an issue with him, well, that’s their problem. Barbatos is a very simple man and he doesn’t like to overcomplicate things, so he just doesn't. “I know… I just want everyone to get along. At least we’re meeting in a public place and we can leave whenever we want.” Truthfully, you hated dealing with your parents on most days and you hid most of your relationships from them because they were always so strict and “oh they aren’t God-like, (Y/N). You deserve better.” After hearing that for every person that you introduced to them, you just kind of gave up and dated quietly, understandably so. 

“Is that them?” You decided to meet at a bar, weirdly enough. Your parents don’t drink a lot but they like the snacks they lay out so you figured this would be a nice ice breaker. Minimal amounts of alcohol and tasty snacks, why not? “Yes. That’s them.” they’re standing outside the bar, waving at you and you managed to smile and wave back, clutching Barbatos’ arm, which he offered so kindly, a little tighter, “okay… here goes nothing.” He’s smiling, as always. He’s also dressed as always, which you had advised him not to but he refused to change for your parents when he was just going back to the castle to work later on anyway, “Good evening Mr. and Mrs. (L/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Barbatos beat you to the greeting and you silently cursed him for it but managed to smile too, “hey guys…. How are you? Do you wanna head inside?” The quicker you got inside, the quicker you could get this over with. 

Both your mom and dad eyed him suspiciously. “Is there a reason you’re dressed like count Dracula?” Barbatos, bless his soul, was still smiling even at your dad’s somewhat insulting words, “Yes, as a matter of fact there is. My job requires it.” Your mom nodded, glancing at you and then shaking her head, “well, at least you have a job. That stands for something. Come on.” She led the way inside and your dad was about to get the door when Barbatos reached for it, “allow me, sir.” but instead of being impressed by Barbatos’ offer, your dad almost took offense to it. “Dad. Let’s go.” Thankfully you can tell by his body language that he was about to say something and Barbatos really didn’t deserve that so you just pushed everyone inside and joined your mother who had already found herself a seat at the bar. “So… tell me uhm… I don’t think I caught your name.” “Barbatos.” Your mother narrowed her eyes and so did you like dude, you couldn’t have come up with something else for the time being like Bob or something like that?

“Well… Barbatos…” the way she said it was almost venomous and you really hated her for that, “what is it that you do?” You held your hand up for the waiter because you needed a drink before any of this actually went down and I’m sure Barbatos would appreciate one too, “shots for everyone, please.” “oh no, I’ll just have a beer.” Leave it to your dad to kill your fun. He needs that shot, you know he does. “Well, I’m a sort of… nanny, if you will.” You laughed a little because yes, yes he is. Diavolo is a giant man child and Barbatos is the paid parent he never signed up to be; thus, Barbatos is a nanny. Perfect. “A nanny? Son, don’t you think you should have a more manly job? You don’t look weak or chronically ill or anything.” Barbatos is still smiling and you seriously wondered how, “please refrain from calling me ‘son’, sir. I’m not your son, nor am I a child, and it makes me rather uncomfortable.” 

Your mom looked at you and shrugged softly, leaning in to whisper to you, “at least he can stand his ground and isn’t like some of the other wimps you brought home.” You glared back at her like, did she have to remind you of your past mistakes? Your dad nodded, surprisingly, “Well? Won’t you answer my question?” “I fear your question is embedded in some old school tradition I simply wish to take no part of. I am, in the simplest of terms, a nanny, a housekeeper, a cook, and a host on certain days and I assure you that there’s more to my job than meets the eye and is sure to measure my strength; however, I doubt you are simply concerned with my occupation and rather that there is something else. So tell me, Mr. (L/N), what is it that you actually mean to say?” Both you and your dad stared wide eyed at Barbatos because not only did he just call your dad out, he did so passive aggressively, and now he’s even downing his shot as if nothing ever happened?!

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Yes you do.” Was Barbatos using his powers? No… you doubted it. He’s probably just that good. “Fine. you are the man in this relationship and thus, you should be taking care of my (Y/N) financially and physically. You can’t do that by nannying little kids, which is supposed to be their future job.” “Says who?” Wow Barbatos really isn’t holding back here, “says the Lord.” Barbatos actually laughed for once before shrugging softly, “My Lord has said no such thing.” He’s being vague enough so that your parents don’t know what he’s talking about, or more so, whom he is referring to. “As a matter of fact, the Lord that I look up to encourages everyone to do as they please as long as no harm is done.” Well… somewhat correct, but yes Barbatos, go get them. You couldn’t help but smile at him because even though Barbatos is talking about Diavolo right now, this could also apply to their God. “Elaborate.” 

And Barbatos did elaborate, and to your surprise, your dad and mom actually listened. Not once did Barbatos mention their or his actual faith but what he spoke of was interesting and entertaining and it was close enough to their version of the truth that they didn’t mind. “Very well… It seems you know the Lord very well.” You snorted. You didn’t doubt Barbatos met God at some point but you did doubt that it was in recent history. Whatever Barbatos had sold them though, they seemed to like and they actually ended up congratulating you on finding such a nice man.

“He still looks like Dracula, though, (Y/N).” 

[buckyownsmylife]

sunlight sunset - andy barber smut

The one where Andy throws you a baby shower and you thank him after.

Warnings: smut (p in v), masturbation (f), dirty talk, probably a little bit of daddy kink, pregnancy, the misconstruct of gender that I tried to avoid by referring to biological sex only, curse words, dirty talk

A/N: this was requested by 🤰 anon and it turned out to be much fluffier than any smut I’d ever written previously. Also, I ended up changing the idea of the reader’s “thank you”, I don’t really know why,  but I just figured Andy would be in really soft mindset after a baby shower 🤷‍♀️ Also, this is sort of a part two to this fic

Andy’s P.O.V.

“Shh, everyone! I think I hear her!” All around me, the sound of conversation suddenly dulled, people trying to make themselves smaller to fit behind furniture or walls and I had to cough to hide a laugh, but truly, it was just sweet. There weren’t many people in my apartment, Y/N didn’t have a lot of friends she cared enough to let them be a part of her pregnancy, and I still hadn’t managed to get her father to accept the idea of his baby girl having a baby, but at least her mom was here and Jacob was too.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” My son asked me, fingers absentmindedly playing with a blue balloon while his eyes remained trained on the door, waiting for her to burst through. I knew he was hoping for a little boy, someone he could help shape and not worry about, but I was rooting for a baby girl despite not having the guts to admit it to my girlfriend. I could just perfectly see it, me and her, raising this little version of her together, and she’d be loud and opinionated and the best parts of both of us and I just loved her already. 

I knew it was a girl. I just knew it. I felt it deep in my gut, every night when I talked to Y/N’s still barely-there belly. But I let her and Jacob believe it was a boy. That was just something I kept to myself and my unborn child, the secret that would come out tonight.

“I sure hope so,” I muttered, trying to look unworried but probably failing. It’s just, Y/N had been having such a hard time lately, between telling her parents about the pregnancy, moving in with me, telling Jacob and her friends and it was just a whirlwind of emotions for us both, but of course, it hit her harder than me. She was the one dealing with the body changes and the misconceptions that people had about the nature of our relationship. I just wanted this one experience to show her how this pregnancy wasn’t all stress and tears.

But of course, I should have known better.

“Surprise!” Everyone shouted when the door opened, a surprised Y/N covering her mouth as she took in the balloons, her friends, the cake and me. And then, as if on cue, she burst into tears.

I shouldn’t have expected any different, really. After the first initial shock wore off, I found myself chuckling as I beckoned my sobbing girlfriend into my arms, delighted to have her warm body to squeeze again.

“Baby, don’t cry… This is supposed to be a nice thing!” It only made her cry harder, clutching at my shirt as I couldn’t control my amusement, trying to get her to separate from me just enough so I could cradle her face.

“It is nice! It’s so nice… I don’t deserve you, Andy.” The thought was so absurd to me that a fucking snort came out as I grazed her cheekbones with my thumbs. God, she was beautiful. And mine. All mine.

“Oh, please, sweetheart. If anything, I’m the one who’s unworthy of you.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The utter stupidity of the statement had me gasping, and then promptly slapping one of the arms with which he was holding me. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re too intelligent for that.” That earned me one of those hearty laughters that started from the depths of his chest and that warmed me to my very core, leaving my face burning. God, how I loved this man. And how I loved to be the reason for his laughter.

“C’mon, princess. Let’s open that envelope. I’m dying to know what we’re expecting.” Oh, right. As if on cue, my hands started sweating and my heartbeat picked up, the anxiety about knowing our child’s biological sex finally hitting. I was hoping for a boy, but I knew he wanted a girl. As much as he tried to hide it, I could just read right through his expectant face.

With shaky hands, I reached into my purse and pulled out the little red envelope that the doctor had given me. At first, I thought it was weird that Andy had decided to skip this one appointment, since he was so enthusiastic about being a part of everything, but now, as I stared at the balloon and the familiar faces of my friends, it made sense.

“Can I open it?” He asked, almost too quietly, large palm turned up as he waited for my reaction. I didn’t need to think about it, immediately dropping the paper in his hand, almost laughing at how ridiculously small it looked with him holding it. “Here we go.”

I knew all around us, everyone was waiting to hear the single word contained in that note, excitement barely concealed as the air around us felt electrified with it. But I couldn’t even care. At the most, I noticed my mom and Jacob holding hands not that far from where I stood with Andy, and the image made me smile right as my boyfriend’s face lit up like a christmas tree when he processed the doctor’s ruling.

“A girl. It’s a girl. We’re having a girl!” He darted into my arms and behind me, I felt as someone else - most likely Jacob - hugged me too. They were followed by each and every person in the room, until there was no one else to congratulate me on the news. We ate cake, talked and then, one by one, everyone left, and it was only Andy and me.

When I turned to look at him, after seeing the last visitor out, it was only to find his darkened, lust-filled eyes staring right at me as he sized me up, his hands in his pockets and the sweetest cockiest smirk on his lips.

“Come here, baby.” There was no hesitation, I didn’t even think before I moved in his direction. As I approached, he sat on the couch behind him, hands beckoning me closer and closer, until I was just close enough that he could easily pull me to straddle his legs.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he whispered as he nuzzled his bearded face against my neck, tickling me while making my pussy throb at the same time. A shiver of pure desire ran up my spine, right as I started to unconsciously grind my crotch over his, already desperate for a release.

“I-I’m thinking…” I tried, only to stop in a gasp as Andy suddenly seized my waist, forcing my movements to gather some speed. The friction was nothing like what I truly wanted, but it was just enough to make me whimper for my boyfriend’s wonderful touch.

Andy’s P.O.V.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” I urged, knowing that I was teasing her and knowing that she knew, especially since I couldn’t keep the smirk off of my face. “If you tell me what you want, I might give it to you.”

It was an offer she couldn’t resist, I knew even before I whispered it in her ear, but as I kept stimulating her body and she didn’t find a way to stop me, instead of finally confessing what was going through her mind, what I got was an exasperated, “Stop doing that! I don’t wanna cum yet!”

It made me laugh and decide that I definitely wouldn’t be stopping any time soon, so I opted to suck on one of her earlobes, appreciating the little shiver that she tried to hide before asking, “Why not?”

She hesitated for a second, but I couldn’t tell if it was because she wanted to hide it or if she simply still couldn’t gather her thoughts enough to voice them, although the way her fingers were buried in my shoulders made me think the last option was more probable. At last, she admitted right right before throwing her head back and whining, “Because I want to be the one pleasing you.”

She was heaving now, delicious breasts bouncing before me and just begging to have my mouth wrapped around one nipple, but her confession felt so silly I ended up laughing and capturing one of them between my fingers, instead.

“Can’t you feel what seeing you like this does to me?” I asked, making sure to raise my hips so there was no denying the hard line of my cock against her cunt. “I’m sorry you don’t feel like cumming, princess, because that’s exactly what you’re going to do. So just relax and accept it.”

It didn’t take long for her to cum after that, and I took in every beautiful second of the perfect image as her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her hips seemed to take a rhythm of their own.

“That’s my girl,” I cooed softly as I watched her slowly come back to me, eyes blinking lazily to look up at me from under her eyelashes with an expression that was simply sinful. “Can you open this for me, baby girl?” I asked as my hands remained occupied with holding her up, gesturing towards my own crotch, but it felt unnecessary when her hands immediately flew down to rub the boner I’d been sporting for quite a while.

“Yes, princess. Can you get my cock out, please? I really need to be inside of you now,” I confessed, nose rubbing over the soft skin of her neck as her small hands expertly unzipped my pants and I raised my hips up just enough so she could wrap her fist around my member and pull it from its confines.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Nothing felt quite as good as having my hand wrapped around Andy’s cock, knowing it would be inside of me, making me whole in just a few seconds. And knowing that he was giving me the control to grab it and put it in me myself just had me excited like nothing else.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” I noted, raising myself just enough to rub the head of his member against my lower lips. The action had him grunting before groaning in frustration, grip in my ass tightening in a sort of warning.

“No, I figured it’d be easier this way. Didn’t anticipate you being such a tease, though.” The grumpy tone of his voice made me giggle, and I slowly lowered myself down on his hard cock, moaning out loud and holding my own breasts as he hissed to the feeling of my pussy squeezing him.

“You feel so fucking good.” Just the hoarseness of his voice had me whining, even before he used the grip on my ass to make me start riding him. “You make me feel so good, baby girl. No one can make me feel as good as you do.”

Only this man could have me simultaneously melting from his sweetness while cumming on his dick while he pounded me from the bottom. “I wish I could keep you right here, sweetheart. Right here, sitting on my dick, all day, everyday.”

I saw the way his eyes never left my bouncing breasts, and when he licked his lips with an expression of pure hunger, I came, knowing I was bringing him with me when he let out a high-pitched moan and picked up his pace.

“Fuck, I’m yours, princess. I’m yours. Thank you for giving me our little family. I love you.” Grabbing his hand to give a kiss to his knuckles, I took a second to appreciate just how incredible this man was. Despite how hard this could be, I knew I’d never regret having him beside me.

[one-boring-person]

I would love you forever if you wrote something for Iceman where the reader is Viper's daughter and also in the Navy

Of course, I hope you like this! 💛❤ (sorry if it's a bit rushed!) I actually really enjoyed writing this, so thank you for requesting it!!

We Are More Than Dead.

Tom "Iceman" Kazansky x reader

Warnings: implied sexual themes, inflight violence (mild)

Note: The reader's call sign is Cobra (seeing as her dad is Viper😅)

Masterlist

"Hey Cobra? Please warn me next time you wanna pull a stunt like that!" My RIO, Wasp, instructs me in resignation, her voice laced with exasperation as she tries to recover from the tight spiralling loop I just took the jet around, the pressure having been a little too strong for the average human body to deal with.

"Sorry," I apologise, laughing to myself as I check the surroundings again, before radioing our wingmen, "Are there any more bogeys around?"

It takes a few seconds, but the other pilots and their RIOs are quick to respond, their voices slightly distorted thanks to the distance between us, though they are coherent enough to understand.

"Nothing over here." Goose, Maverick's RIO, replies, cheerful voice decisive but strained, as if he is looking around.

"Likewise, sweet cheeks." Iceman teases, the pilot chuckling at my protest. Behind me, Wasp makes a noise of disgust, the RIO being the only one who knows of Iceman and my relationship, the others only hinting at it, her fist coming round to tap against my helmet, her way of telling me to keep it PG.

"Roger." I finally retort, guiding the jet into a gentle turn, the left wing tipping so it's in line with the ocean below me, giving us a clear view of the horizon.

"Hang on, I think I see something!" Wasp suddenly speaks up, hands grabbing at the clear canopy, helmet knocking against it as she cranes her head back, "Yeah, there's a bogey on our six! They're following us around."

"Great." I mutter, checking the radar and swiftly finding the correlating dot pursuing us, a plan forming in my head.

Clenching my jaw, I pull out of the turn and level off, keeping the jet as straight as possible as I cruise just above cloud level, my pulse picking up as the familiar beeping sound of the missile lock radar begins, the enemy pilot responding to my ploy. I slow the plane, keeping the bogey interested as Wasp starts to question me, only to keep quiet when I tell her I know what I'm doing, her trust in me a great relief but well earned. As the aircraft behind us nears, the high pitched beeping increases in volume and frequency, becoming one long droning sound that assaults our ears, before quickly cutting off as I sharply roll the jet into a tight barrel roll, out of range of missile lock. The other jet flies right by, the pilot turning their head in our direction in surprise, not quite realising what I'm up to.

Rolling out again, I smirk to myself as I give chase, switching on missile lock and swiftly finding my target, allowing it to focus before pressing the trigger. Seconds later, the jet ahead goes up in smoke, debris erupting into the sky with a flash of orange flames, illuminating our cockpit as I fly past, avoiding any large pieces with practiced ease.

"Last one down." I report to the others, whoops of relief and triumph following a moment or so later.

"Nice one, Cobra!" Slider congratulates, cheering through the mics much louder than the others.

A minute or so passes before the tower radios back, giving us permission to land, to which we all respond with relief, seeing as we've all been out for hours already. One at a time, we all return to the aircraft carrier, our two wingmen landing before me, giving me time to loop round the ship itself, until it's our turn. Bracing myself for the impact, I manage to land the jet pretty smoothly, only drawing a small grunt from Wasp as opposed to the usual yelp l, her helmet only tapping lightly against the back of my seat. Once we've come to a halt, I taxi the jet into a safe stationary position, carefully unclasping the canopy so that we can climb out. Unclipping myself from my seat, I heave myself out and onto the open deck, stretching as ground staff rush to check over the aircraft, ignoring me and Wasp as we start walking over to where the boys are waiting.

"Well done for catching that last bogey, Cobra. We never even saw it." Maverick congratulates me, smiling at me gratefully.

"Thank you, but I wouldn't have seen it without Wasp. It very nearly killed us." I brush off, blushing at the attention.

"It wasn't just the bogey that nearly killed us. You fly with a suicide wish, (Y/n)!" My RIO huffs, rolling her shoulders.

At this, Iceman let's out a sharp laugh, the sound making butterflies spring to life within me.

"Damn, the commander's daughter flies dangerously, who'd have thought?" The blonde pilot smirks at me, gesturing with his helmet, referring to my father, Viper.

"Shut up." I mutter, grinning bashfully at him, letting him loop a strictly friendly arm around my shoulders, pulling me subtly against his muscular body.

As a group, we walk towards the changing rooms, Wasp and I splitting off into the female ones, where we quickly get showered. As always, Wasp finishes before me, sitting on the bench in the centre as she watches me change (in a non creepy way), our attention drawn to the door as it suddenly opens, a tall figure stepping in. A smirk crosses her face as she catches sight of him, swiftly getting up and leaving the room with a suggestive wave.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" I whisper-yell at Iceman, watching as he comes closer, holding my shirt up to my chest to hide myself from view.

"What? I can't come and admire my girlfriend?" The pilot asks in mock offense, continuing to approach me, grin widening as I remain in place, eyeing him.

"Not when we can be caught! You know what the rules are, and you know what my dad is like!" I protest, my voice faltering a little as he reaches out his hands to skim up my sides, one coming up to lower my shirt, revealing my clothed chest to him.

"Relax, no one will catch us." He hums, pulling me towards him, pressing his body against mine using his toned arms, grinning as my breath hitches, my own palms coming up to rest against his chest.

"If anyone does, we're more than dead-" I go to say, only to he cut off by the sensation of Tom's lips against mine, one of his hands coming up to cup my jaw and hold me against him, though there is no need, as I hesitantly reciprocate the gesture, carding my fingers through his hair. Deepening the kiss, Tom briefly pulls away as he sits on the bench behind him, encouraging me to sit on his lap, which I do, his lips instantly returning to my skin, sucking and biting their way up the column of my neck, small gasps and moans escaping me as he reaches my sensitive points. He grins against my skin, marking my sweet spot with a deep purple hickey, despite my protest, kissing back up to my jaw, where he licks a line straight back to my lips, capturing them again. His hands move to my hips, pulling me closer to him as they smooth down over my ass, a squeak leaving me as he abruptly squeezes, the sensation unexpected, drawing a throaty chuckle from him which resonates in my ears, goosebumps rising along my skin.

A loud knock on the door interrupts us, snapping me back to reality with a horrified jolt, though it is accompanied by disappointment as Tom rests his head against my chest, clearly as frustrated as I am, but not nearly as panicked. Hastily, I scramble upright and pull on my shirt, fixing my hair and making myself look neat and presentable, thinking it to be Wasp at the door. In my hurry, I forget to cover up my neck, leaving the dark spots clearly visible to anyone who looks close enough, Iceman and I quickly going to the door. Opening it, I step out into the corridor, only to stop dead when I see who it is, Iceman bumping into me before he realise this, too.

Nervously, I swallow down the lump in my throat, cowering under his stern gaze.

"Hey, dad."

[maariarogers]

Thoughts on True Beauty and Why I’m On Team Suho

Ever since the tv show started, I’ve begin thinking and noticing for a while now that, more than anything, I’m more #TeamSuho than I am #TeamSeojun.

And the thought of “why do I think like that?” kept repeating in my head, because, if I’m honest, the casualness that Seojun and Jugyeong shared early in the series (I’m talking webtoon and, truth be told, a bit of the tv series) really struck me as them having a much easier and playful, therefore fun, relationship. Which makes for an interesting dynamic than what Jugyeong had with Suho.

So, here are my thoughts why I think I prefer Suho with Jugyeong towards the end.

To warn, this is, firstly, have nothing against any of the characters or the ships! I’m merely sharing an in-depth analysis of my thoughts on my own view why I prefer Suho with Jugyeong. Secondly, I’ll be referencing a lot of the webtoon rather than the tv series (although I feel like I’d like to spill my thoughts on that soon, so I don’t know if that long analysis of “why I surprisingly find myself enjoy the adaptation more than I thought I would” is coming soon, buuuut yeah, we’ll see) so, please be aware of spoilers.

As reference, I’m currently at Chapter 124 of the English-translated version of True Beauty as I’m writing this, but I am aware of spoilers ahead of the chapters.

Another Warning: This is so long. Oh my god. How did I manage to write it this long? So. There’s that.

Okay. So. What brought this on?

Honestly, it was just the excitement from knowing that True Beauty was airing soon and I was just so interested to see the dynamics the actors were going to play out rather than just seeing the characters across the a page screen in comic strips as I’ve been following them since I stumbled into the webtoon about, yikes, a year ago?

But – more than anything, I just really wanted to see how Suho played out.

1. So, What’s The Deal With Suho?

If I’m honest, I’ve always thought that Suho is laughably (yikes) boring. Not necessarily in a bad way, no! I actually think it’s one of the things that’s made him quite appealing — in ways that, in other settings, I would have actually found him uninteresting and easily passable as a main lead. But not in this particular world.

To add: the Author also referenced this many, many times throughout the webtoon. Quite brilliantly, in fact — specifically, from Sua’s point of view, as she points out quite a few times that, besides from Suho’s looks, “he’s really got nothing going on for him” or that “he’s boring”. (I frickin’ love Sua in both the webtoon and tv show!)

This was also a really important plot device during the Prince of Princes (Did I get this name right? Omg) competition TV show when the influencer (again, I really can’t be bothered with what’s-his-name) actually called Suho out for basically “not trying his best” when everybody else was clearly giving his all. This triggered Suho to actually act outside of his comfort zone and actually wanted to pose for a sexy photoshoot.

I do also honestly think he’s clinically depressed on top of just having had naturally adapted a much calmer composure to compare with an easily expressive Jugyeong and a very charismatic Seojun. But the thing is, the author really made Suho “boring” on purpose — and the best thing is? It works.

Because as much as Suho is “expressionless” — as in, he doesn’t really emote whatever his feelings as honest or as obvious as the other two leads — he can still carry his character well. Like Jugyeong has learned over time, we start to figure out that, oh, Suho has to put his act together because his father’s famous and he doesn’t want to tarnish that reputation. He’s ruthless to admirers because he’s logical about rejecting unwanted advances. He’s surprisingly rigid and slightly cold, but only because he’s used to only have himself as company.

In all honesty, I’m still trying to wrap my head around Suho. I still don’t quite understand why I’m so fascinated by his personality when, if those sort of “dark brooding” tropes were played in other medias, I would have rolled my eyes and rejected it instantly for how much it’s overplayed.

But I didn’t. Not with Suho. 

Perhaps, an angst-lover at heart, his unrequited relationship with Jugyeong really struck with me. His patience when he’s obviously hurting as Jugyeong dismissed their almost-romance, or when Seojun and her were being lovey-dovey in front of him was really incredible. Suho rarely lost his composure, which was quite a feat considering as readers we know he still has lingering feelings towards Jugyeong, and I felt like that spoke volume about his character.

(Besides that, Suho was always so incredibly respectful — not only towards Jugyeong but also towards Seojun. Seojun obviously learned it much later on, but Suho never once carried any ill-intention when he learned Seojun and Jugyeong were together. In fact, again and again, he congratulated and cheered them on, even when we knew later that he feels awful for the lost chances. Still, Suho never acted violently or aggressively. Not once. It was only Seojun who had easily misunderstood him and thus, reacted badly.)

(Although again, that’s so brilliant on the author — because Seojun’s quick-temper is such a staple and big part of what made Seojun Seojun. I’m happy that he acted that way, because that meant his characteristics are consistent from when we first saw him in the webtoon. Of course, that doesn’t mean the temper in and of itself is always good, but — it’s realistic for him.)

2. So, Why Jugyeong and Suho?

Now, this is the part where it gets tricky.

A lot of the fans — some of which are my own friends, and people I knew — abandoned the webtoon because the drama has gotten “tacky” or Jugyeong’s growth has been “stunted” for a few chapters. I can’t say I totally disagree, because I do see there’s quite a lag in the plot, buuuuuuut.... I do feel like the author adds that in on purpose.

Of course! I might be wrong! But hear me out.

I think it’s on purpose because it wants to show the development of Seojun and Jugyeong’s relationship – and why it didn’t work. (Again, anything can happen; I’m only at Ch124, so things might still change for Team Seojun!) Of course, for all those who are aware of the spoilers, the answer was simple: they didn’t work because the agency asked Jugyeong to stop dating Seojun due to his rising status as an idol.

It’s more than that, though.

I’ve also been reading a few comments and some of them pointed out how they thought that Jugyeong has always seemed more relaxed and more playful when she’s with Suho than she is when she’s with Seojun. But... I do have to slightly disagree. Only slightly. Because, if we review the arc during their high school when Jugyeong liked Suho, she was obviously more comfortable and were able to tease and be more playful with Seojun — but she was a little guarded with Suho, which was understandable. She didn’t want to look bad in front of her crush.

I’ve always felt a little threatened at this point because, man, Seojun and Jugyeong’s chemistry was so, so good during this arc. I love Seojun, I really do. He is such a nice and considerate man in ways that I really didn’t think he could be when we saw him as a teenager — but the author really pulled him off well. And he’s so sweet, too? So loyal? Ugh.

The downside is, though — he doesn’t push Jugyeong.

More than that, their relationship (perhaps because they were each other’s first true, committed relationship) really caused each other massive anxiety. Jugyeong wasn’t really honest all the time due to this — not her feelings and not her concerns, and Seojun became an unnecessarily worry-wart even when he shouldn’t be. This had, several times, led him to become inconsiderably possessive i.e. during the time he fought with Suho when Suho had only wanted to help.

Of course, they sort the issue out in the end and Seojun started to reform himself to be an even better partner. But... you can tell, in a lowkey sort of way, that the good-feeling they had when they were just friends, it isn’t really there anymore. They don’t really have fun together. (Although maybe that’s just because Seojun became busy and/or the author skip most of their dates along, so — I might be biased a bit regarding this!)

But with Suho, even as friends, Suho has always pushed Jugyeong — more than just about her bare face, he pushed her to pursue what she wants to do. Not only that, he encouraged it; he helped her.

Which is why I think the plot became slightly stagnant in the moment: because, like Jugyeong, we’re focusing too much on her relationship with Seojun and what would it mean when Seojun became an idol. We’re carried along with her anxiety, with their upside down, with Jugyeong’s worries. We’re stuck in Jugyeong’s first relationship — and that’s it.

But with Suho, the plot moves: Suho pushes Jugyeong to study, Suho talks to her about her ambitions, Suho makes her confronts her fears, and one of the best parts of the series so far — when Suho was consulting her after Selena scolded Jugyeong for messing up on set — Suho recognised what she wants to do, what she likes to do, and he encourages her for it. He comforts her, and tells her to not give up. So now, we see her wanting to try her best in wanting to help Selena.

With Suho, I feel as if... Jugyeong’s focus grows more than just her being upset about one single relationship. Suho’s calamity and logic straightforwardness probably helps — it doesn’t cause as much anxiety as Suho’s relatively honest, which Jugyeong can depend on and seems to explicitly trust — and Jugyeong’s story, once again, grows to be more than just another love story.

It’s become a story of her trying to find a place in the world again, of her trying to figure out what exactly she can do for herself despite all these obstacles and hurdles.

I’m not saying with Seojun, she doesn’t go through any character development at all, no — but her focus tends to single-handedly narrow towards Seojun directly and their relationship, and it leaves very little for Jugyeong to really consider anything else, specially her own growth, which is equally important.

With Suho, she’s just able to do that a bit better, and we can see she’s slightly more comfortable too.

(And, before anybody comes at me, yes, I do think Jugyeong pushes Suho too. She literally recommends Suho books that he doesn’t seem he was going to read anytime soon, or he could’ve overlooked it easily — but she does that. She pushes him out of his comfort zone and suggested a new author / series. And Suho reads it, and he learns that he likes it. It’s the same when she recommends the music app. Or the hairdo. She’s always been a giant force pushing Suho forward; Suho’s always trying to change and/or improve himself when Jugyeong comes in.)

3. Conclusion

This is sooo long so I thank you if you’ve made it this far! I’m just really, really happy with the TV series and these thoughts about why I adore Suho have been nagging at me.

I hope everyone likes the full analysis of my messy thoughts as much as I enjoyed writing it fully on a whim at 1am.

[the-himawari]

A3! Magazine Interview Translation - 2D☆STAR Vol. 11 (½) [Summer Troupe]

A roundtable discussion unveiling the addition of Summer Troupe’s newest member

Kumon-kun is an Undisputed BroCon!!

*Please read disclaimer on blog

---

——Congratulations on your 4th performance, “First Crush Baseball”. Hyodo Kumon-kun, the newly added member, could you please introduce yourself to our readers who are meeting you for the first time?

Kumon: Hyodo Kumon! Currently a second-year in high school! My blood type is A, and my birthday is July 20! My hobbies are watching baseball and collecting jerseys! Umm, also…

Yuki: A brocon.

Kumon: Ah, right, right! I’m a brocon!

Tenma: Don’t say that so proudly…

Kumon: But “brocon” means “you love your big brother”, doesn’t it? I really, really looove my big bro! So I’m a genuine brocon!

Kazunari: Yep yep, that’s one of Kumopi’s charm points!

Misumi: It’s the same with my triangles~.

Muku: The same… I wonder if it is?

Yuki: Just so you know, the brother that he loves so much is the Autumn Troupe’s Classic Delinquent.

Tenma: Classic delinquent…

Kazunari: Yep, fyi, he’s Autumn Troupe’s Hyodle!

Tenma: Those add-ons aren’t helping! It’s Juza-san.

Kumon: My big bro is super, super, duper~ cool, right! I’m the happiest person in the world to be born as my big bro’s little brother…

Misumi: You’re lucky~. I’ll give Kumon a Triangle-kun, swimsuit ver.~

Muku: Uwahh, it’s a new one! His swim ring and straw hat are so cute!

Kazunari: I designed it!

Yuki: And I’m the one who made it.

Muku: Oh, it’s a collaboration between Kazu-kun and Yuki-kun!

Kumon: I-is it really ok for me to receive such an amazing thing?

Misumi: Yep, take it~.

Kumon: Sumi-san…!

Tenma: Err, that’s not something that you should be so moved by! In the first place, why are you suddenly giving him a Triangle-kun…

Misumi: It’s cause Kumon’s cute~.

Kazunari: Ah, did Tenten want one too?

Tenma: Haa!?

Yuki: The hack hasn’t gotten many Triangle-kuns, right? At any rate, it’s because you’re a hack.

Tenma: Don’t call me a “hack” twice! It’s not like I really wanted one or anything…

Kumon: For me as the newcomer to be so brash… I’m so sorry!

Misumi: Tenma, I’ll give you lots when we get home!

Muku: Fufu. That’s great, right, Tenma-kun?

Tenma: Like I said… Ahh, I don’t care anymore! Do whatever you want!

——Now that their talk has heated up, let’s move on to the next topic. What are your honest impressions now that your 4th performance has finished? Also, how was Kumon-kun’s acting?

Kumon: You’re asking about my acting too!? Asking that is scary… I’m nervous…

Muku: Kyu-chan, are you ok? Your face is getting pale…

Kumon: I think I improved from the time of my initial audition, but there was never a day where I could say all my lines smoothly…

Kazunari: Nobody minds that, ‘kay?

Kumon: I messed up my standing position too, and somehow managed to get everyone to follow through for me…

Misumi: That happens all the time~. We’re a team, so it’s natural to help each other!

Kumon: There was also a time I was too flustered during my quick-change and the button on my shirt came off…

Yuki: Seriously, you're lucky I was waiting in the wings at that time, right?

Kumon: There were countless times where I accidentally talked over Tenma-san’s lines too… I only caused trouble for everyone…

Muku: …

Misumi: *Stare*…

Kazunari: …

Yuki: …

Tenma: W-why are you guys looking at me like that?

Yuki: No reason. We’re just wondering if you’ll say something to this infamously negative guy.

Kazunari: Your speech here is important! Leader Tenten!

Misumi: Go Tenma~!

Muku: I’ll whisper too…! Umm… Tenma-kun! Please be kind to him!

Yuki: Muku, that definitely wasn’t a whisper.

Muku: Haa! I accidentally put power into it…

Kumon: Making everyone be so considerate of me… I… I…

Yuki: Seeee, say something already, you hack. Or else who knows how far these pessimistic cousins will sink together.

Tenma: You guys are just hyping it up as you like! …*Sigh*. It’s true, Kumon’s acting was clumsy and he had a lot of misses.

Kumon: Yeah…

Tenma: But, everyone’s like that in the beginning, and we were able to make it safely to the closing night. You picked up on the adlibs well and you’re the one who carried the baseball scenes for us. Good job. You did well.

Kumon: Tenma-san…

Muku: That’s so great, Kyu-chan…!

Kazunari: Ohoho~, Kumopi and Mukkun have been moved to tears. It makes me remember the curtain call on our closing night~.

Misumi: There, there~.

Tenma: You guys are overreacting…

Yuki: Well, your acting will improve as much as you want from now on.

Kazunari: Yep, yep! We’ll work hard together from now on, right, Kumopi!

Muku: I’ll accompany you if you want to practise on your own, so let me know anytime.

Misumi: I like Kumon’s earnest and straightforward acting~.

Tenma: …And there you have it. You can make proper use of your failures in our 4th performance for our 5th performance. But aside from the troubles and failures… Even though it was your anticipated debut stage, are those really your only impressions?

Kumon: Eh…

Tenma: Do you have nothing else to say after you stood on stage for all those days and did your best at acting comedy?

Kumon: …It was fun. The play we put on with everyone was super fun! So I thought I wanted to act more and more with everyone as the Summer Troupe!

Tenma: Geez, see, you do. That’s the most important thing, alright?

Kumon: Ehehe, yeah!

——It looks like Summer troupe’s bond has grown stronger. “First Crush Baseball” was a baseball-themed story, but if you all were to watch a game, would it be baseball? Or another sport?

Kumon: It’s definitely baseball for me! Of course I like playing it, but as expected, watching baseball is the most fun!

Muku: I guess it’s baseball for me too. I’ve been going to watch Kyu-chan’s games, and we’ve been watching baseball on TV together since a long time ago.

Kazunari: Samesies~. I really started liking it after performing it on stage! I’m especially attached to second base!

Tenma: You do get interested in the position you played yourself, huh? I can’t help but watch it when it’s broadcast, and my eyes always drift towards the catcher too.

Misumi: I get it, I get it~. I’m also into baseball! Since the shape of the home plate is like a triangle~.

Tenma: Is that why!

Kumon: Ohhh! The baseball lovers have increased! I’m super happy~!

Yuki: Hmm, I don’t particularly have a sport, but anything apart from soccer.

Muku: Eh? Yuki-kun hates soccer?

Yuki: I don't particuarly like nor dislike soccer itself, but when it’s on TV, those guys’ cheering gets so fired up that I can’t stand it. The temperature in the room rises.

Tenma: (Winter troupe’s) Tasuku-san and them, huh…

Kazunari: Eh! It’s rare for Tax and them to get so hyped-up, so it’s fun and I like watching it together with them.

——And so, your 5th show is currently underway, is that right? Since the play is about ninjas, there are all sorts of actions scenes, but did you undergo any special training?

Tenma: We watched videos of Autumn Troupe’s plays and used them as reference on how to utilize our movements and spacing in action scenes.

Kazunari: It’s hard when you try doing it though~. Four guys moving around on that narrow stage looks awkward if you don’t figure out a way to showcase it.

Tenma: We got Director and (Autumn Troupe’s) Sakyo-san to watch us countless times, and then finally solidified it.

Muku: At first, we were worried we wouldn’t be able to keep up with Misumi-san’s agile movements, but when we tried it, we were able to catch up and move with the tempo too so it actually went well.

Yuki: Saying the Triangle Alien’s movements are agile is putting it lightly.

Kumon: Sumi-san’s kunai handling was super cool too!

Misumi: Ehehe~ thanks~.

Tenma: I’m glad the Summer Troupe doesn’t have anyone who’s seriously bad at exercising.

Kazunari: Strictly speaking, the only one who’s unathletic in our Theatre Company is (Spring Troupe’s) Itarun, right~? (Winter Troupe’s) Azu and Arinrin both don’t like excercising either, but it’s not like they’re unathletic.

Yuki: More than a miracle, it was thanks to that gamer’s obsession that he was able to get through the Spring Troupe’s 5th play.

Muku: We have to do our best too so we don’t run out of stamina until our closing night!

Kumon: Alriiight, then let’s run home today! We’ll go on a run!

Tenma: Yeah, I’ll pass.

Kazunari: Good luck, Kumopi!

Yuki: Go ahead by yourself.

Kumon: EHH!? E-even Muku won't…?

Muku: U-ummm… If it’s just a little bit…

Misumi: I’ll run too~.

Tenma: Geez. Don’t let it affect tomorrow’s performance.

——Speaking of summer, it was Yuki-kun and Kumon-kun’s birthdays a little while ago, right? Did you all throw a birthday party together?

Kazunari: ‘Course, we held surprise parties for both of them 𝅘𝅥𝅮

Kumon: We sure spent a long time thinking together about what kinda design we should go with for Yuki’s birthday cake.

Tenma: Well, it’s because Yuki’s fussy about designs. It was a relief Kazunari did a good job of getting everything down into an illustration.

Yuki: The sugar candy torso was cute. Thanks.

Misumi: We struck out together on Kumon’s birthday~!

Muku: We went with a cushion that was modeled after Sakura High's uniform, and we were really glad Kyu-chan accepted it just like we hoped he would!

Kumon: I’m super happy with it already… and it’s a treasure of a lifetime for me! But since it’s a nice chance, I’d be so happy if we could all have matching ones together someday.

Tenma: That’s true. How about it, Yuki?

Yuki: …Well, I’ll make one for everyone if I feel like it. Personally, I like Sakura High’s uniform too.

Kumon: Yay—! Thanks, Yuki!

Yuki: The hack can make his own though. I’ll teach him how to make it.

Tenma: Haa!? Why am I the only one who has to make it myself!

Yuki: Because you’re Tenma.

Tenma: That’s not a reason!

Muku: U-ummm… It’ll be Kazu-kun’s birthday soon, right! Do you have any present that you want?

Kazunari: Hmmm, something I want, eh~. …What do to, maybe there’s nothing.

Kumon: So selfless!

Kazunari: That’s not what I meant by that~. Lemme think! How about Mukkun? Your birthday’s after mine, right?

Muku: Me? Hm~mmm…

Misumi: Could it be, Muku doesn’t have anything either?

Muku: Ahaha. I think I’ll have something, but when I’m asked like this, nothing jumps out at me.

Kazunari: Right~. Then let’s think about it together!

Muku: Yeah!

——Now then, please leave a message, including any announcements from MANKAI Company, to your fans.

Tenma: There were various troubles this time as well, but following Spring Troupe, Summer Troupe was able to safely raise the curtain on our 5th show as well. I want to create the very best play with these 6 members, without missing a single person, all the way until our closing day. Please continue to support Summer Troupe from now on as well.

---

| Spicy Cuisine Research Society

[smiting-finger]

Previous HP AU parts: Here, here, here and here

“So, Requiem,” Wei Wuxian says as soon as the image on the surface of the bronze mirror ripples out into the uppermost three quarters of Nie Huaisang’s head.

(“My brother hung it in the office when he took over as Sect Leader,” Nie Huaisang explains during their first mirror-call after Wei Wuxian’s return. 

Wei Wuxian immediately drops the topic.

“Do the other Sect Leaders just … let it go?” he asks Lan Zhan later, and receives a small headshake in reply.

“He adds extra seat cushions to his chair during official meetings,” Lan Zhan says, his voice uncoloured by emotion, his gaze steady as he turns to meet Wei Wuxian’s. “But he says they’re difficult to balance on.”

Wei Wuxian drops the topic a second time.)

“The song that we learned at school for calming restless souls?” Nie Huaisang asks with three quarters of an appraising look, and then adds, “Those of us who weren’t tone-deaf, anyway.”

“That’s the one,” Wei Wuxian agrees, and if that’s a dig at the time he deliberately played out of tune and almost sent old Professor Lan beyond the veil to soothe the spirits of the dead in person, he stands by his choices.

(If it’s a reference to Wen Ning, then - well, the poor boy tried his best. You can’t be good at everything.)

“I was thinking,” he continues, leaning back in his chair. He waves his wand at the small pile of paper birds in front of him, which line up obediently along the desk edge and take turns to divebomb the makeshift target drawn on the back of his office door. 

“We use Requiem as a conduit to magically encourage emotional calm - so there’s no reason, in theory, that we couldn’t use music to do the opposite, is there?”

Nie Huaisang taps his fan against his chin a few times (or, at least, that’s what Wei Wuxian assumes is causing the soft patting sounds he hears, since his line of sight stops at Nie Huaisang’s upper lip), before asking:

“You want to ... compose a song that makes souls restless?”

“Not restless,” Wei Wuxian doesn’t need magic to do that, “I just want to … encourage them to feel certain things. Or have certain states of mind.”

He slings a dart at the door and sighs when it only barely makes it into the target’s outermost boundary.

“You mean,” Nie Huaisang begins slowly, “like that time with Professor Lan and your shitty flute playing in third year?”

“Well, yes,” Wuxian allows, because technically that is what happened, “but also no. I’m also thinking more through the actual music than the quality thereof. And ... I’m also possibly not looking to induce rage?”

His second dart lands closer to the centre, but not by much. A paper bird embedded into the next section over starts to shake its butt at him in a smug victory dance.

Rude.

“So instead,” Nie Huaisang prompts gently, “you’re looking to induce…?”

“...arousal?” Wei Wuxian offers hopefully.

There’s a moment of silence, which is eventually broken by the slide of Nie Huaisang’s fan as he flicks it open.

“Why?” he asks finally, doing a remarkable job of keeping the judgment out of his face.

“The pursuit of knowledge is a worthwhile goal in and of itself,” Wei Wuxian supplies in his loftiest impression of Lan Qiren’s lecture-voice.

Nie Huaisang simply looks at him.

“And maybe in this case, the knowledge might have some personal application, too,” Wei Wuxian admits, and is met with a second moment of silence.

“I truly don’t know if Lan Wangji deserves my condolences or congratulations,” Nie Huaisang says eventually, and shakes his head.

“Why not both?” Wei Wuxian shrugs.

-

“It comes down to a question of whether lust is fundamentally physical or spiritual, doesn’t it?” Lan Xichen muses between stirs. “Could you pass me the three-legged crow feathers, please? They’re in the box on the - no, the one next to - yes, that one, thank you.”

He takes the dish from Wei Wuxian, scatters the feathers evenly across the bubbling surface of whatever potion he’s brewing and immediately takes a step back, drawing Wei Wuxian along by the elbow. A second later, the feathers begin to spark, whizzing around in jerky figure-eights before finally sinking into the pale liquid with a soft hiss and a few wisps of white smoke.

“Now where were we?” Lan Xichen asks himself, picking up his wooden ladle to resume his gentle stirring. “Oh yes, that’s right. Requiem acts on the metaphysical component of the being - the mind and soul, if you will. We know that because of its effectiveness on ghosts, who possess no physical component at all. Therefore, it follows that if lust is purely - or, otherwise necessarily - physical, then Requiem will not be a useful basis for what you’re trying to achieve.”

“Right,” Wei Wuxian says, nodding slowly. “And that’s not even considering that the physical and mental components of lust might vary in comparative size from person to person...”

Lan Xichen hums in agreement and opens a box of yao grass, carefully selecting a sprig and then slipping off the small cord binding it together.

“We’ll just have to test it, then,” Wei Wuxian decides firmly.

To Lan Xichen’s credit, his hand, outstretched as it is over the mouth of the cauldron, only pauses for the briefest of moments before his fingers uncurl to allow the yao grass to fall in.

“I look forward to your findings,” he says serenely.

-

“Get out,” Lan Qiren says.

“But-” Wei Wuxian protests, because he has an entire speech prepared to explain why, as the Theory of Magic teacher, Lan Qiren should be absolutely be interested in this project.

“OUT,” Lan Qiren thunders.

Wei Wuxian gets.

-

“Can ghosts even … release?” Nie Huaisang wonders from his perch on the edge of the water, on one of his rare visit to the Gusu Academy. 

With both classes and Nie Huaisang’s official business finished for the day, the afternoon presents a perfect opportunity for Wei Wuxian to indulge in nostalgia for their schooling days. And so, as soon as lunch is over, he drags Nie Huaisang and Wen Ning out the door and into a romp all over the grounds to marvel at all the things that have changed, as well as all the things that haven’t.

Somehow they’ve ended up at the cold springs, the scene of many a student tryst (tragically, not a single one of them involving Wei Wuxian), and countless youthful fantasies.

None of which the three of them are calling to mind, sitting as they are with their pant legs rolled up to their knees so that they can soak their feet (or, in Wen Ning’s case, hold their feet above the water in a good approximation thereof) like the old men they are.

It’s not quite like the old days (the absence of a familiar, derisive snort; of the loud words that are almost sharp enough to hide the fondness thrumming beneath them like heartbeats under breastbone, is too pronounced for that), but in the miracle of After, it’s more than Wei Wuxian thought he’d be able to have.

(It’s enough.)

“Let’s say lust is metaphysical enough for your reverse-Requiem to work,” Nie Huaisang continues, “and then you play it for a spirit, and get them worked up. What do they ... do with that? Can ghosts-”

He makes an unmistakeable jerking gesture with his hand.

Wei Wuxian frowns. He hadn’t considered that.

And then, with an eerie synchronisation that Wei Wuxian can only attribute to the seven formative years they spent living in each other’s pockets, they turn as one to look at Wen Ning, who lets out an alarmed squeak.

“Does it matter?” Wei Wuxian asks, deciding to take pity on Wen Ning and refrain from pursuing that line of inquiry, 

“Well,” Nie Huaisang answers, turning to him with a significant wide-eyed glance, “think about it this way: if you were a resentful spirit, and someone played a song for you that made you build up all this lust that had nowhere to go … wouldn’t you become more resentful?”

Wen Ning squeaks again, his eyes like black saucers in his pale face.

“Hm,” Wei Wuxian says, pausing to consider this most excellent point.

“Actually, wait” Nie Huaisang says after a moment. “There’s at least one outlet that I’ve just thought of-”

“Possession,” Wei Wuxian supplies immediately.

“Right?” Nie Huaisang exclaims, waving his fan excitedly. “Can you imagine, a horny, possessed horde-”

“-charging around the countryside” Wei Wuxian continues, grinning with mixed horror and delight, “humping everything in its path-”

(They spend the next hour casting bubble-head charms on themselves and taking turns to swim to the bottom of the cold spring so that they can promise Wen Ning that no, they certainly won’t be asking him to help them test any of this, and they won’t be testing anywhere near him, either, Wei Wuxian will make sure that all testing happens far, far away, so can he please come back out now, the students would be sad if he stayed hiding inside the pool forever-)

-

“WHY ARE YOU SO EMBARRASSING?” Jin Ling yells, not letting the fact that he’s currently upside-down and hanging from the ceiling get in the way of his outrage.

“Students who break into my office to poke around my things have no right to complain about what they find,” Wei Wuxian replies calmly, leaning back in his chair so that he can look up at the two bodies suspended in mid-air and wriggling fruitlessly against the confines of their bindings. 

“IT WAS A DARE,” Jin Ling shouts defensively, starting to swing back and forth from the force of his own righteousness.

“I wouldn’t be so proud of that if I were you,” Lan Jingyi mutters under his breath.

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian inquires politely, leaning forward so that he can rest his elbows on his desk and pointedly steeple his fingers at his miscreant students. 

“A dare to look through my notes?”

“No,” Jin Ling shoots back hotly, before subsiding into a muttered, “I just looked at those because they were there. AND,” he resumes, remembering his earlier indignation, “when I did,” it turned out to be all - all -”

What the boys have managed to find are actually all Wei Wuxian’s half-sketched plans of ways to surpass (or just match, Wei Wuxian would be more than happy with even approximately matching) Lan Zhan’s patently unmatchable love confession. 

(Ten years of waiting and the first thing out of his mouth when he sees Wei Wuxian’s face again is “Wei Ying, I love you.”

What was the first thing that came out of Wei Wuxian’s mouth after seeing Lan Zhan’s face again?

“Ho ho ho, you think your puny barrier charm is gonna make me sleep in this box when I could be sleeping in your bed? Well think again!”

It really doesn’t compare.)

So far, each one has ended in a frustrated jumble of scribbled-out lines and some variation on WHAT WAS I THINKING? THIS DOESN’T EVEN COME CLOSE, but he’ll get there eventually.

“-all-” Jin Ling continues to splutter, “plans to - to have your way with Professor Lan!”

Wei Wuxian hums in agreement. What a charmingly missish turn of phrase - Jiang Cheng’s fingerprints are all over the boy’s upbringing.

“Everyone’s always talking about all the things you invented during the War,” Jin Ling continues to rage, unaware that his intended audience is only half-listening, “talking about how you were the best mind of your generation - The best mind, and THIS IS WHAT YOU’RE WASTING IT ON?”

“Can you stop?” Lan Jingyi hisses. “If you make him angry, he’ll never let us go!”

He jerks his hip in a clear attempt to nudge his fellow prisoner. Unfortunately for him, he uses too much force and overshoots the mark, excess momentum instead sending them both spiralling around each other as the charmed ropes holding them up begin to rapidly intertwine.

“What else would I use it on?” Wei Wuxian asks, watching with badly-concealed amusement as the boys’ efforts to stop spinning only make them spin faster. “I don’t know about you, but I certainly can’t think of anything more important than getting into Lan Zhan’s-”

“SHAMELESS!” Jin Ling howls as he and Lan Jingyi begin to spin in the opposite direction.

“STOP YELLING!” Lan Jingyi yells.

“You wouldn’t have seen it, because I haven’t written it down yet,” Wei Wuxian continues mercilessly over the top of the resultant shouting match. “But if the song doesn’t work, there’s this part-human creature in Europe that does an apparently irresistible seduction dance. It shouldn’t take me too long to learn it-”

Jin Ling’s answering bellow of rage, Wei Wuxian notes fondly, is almost an exact copy of Jiang Cheng’s.

-

“So what’s this actually about?” Nie Huaisang asks during their next mirror-call, after Wei Wuxian plays another three notes that create a curl of something in his belly that could maybe be mild interest (or could maybe be just gas).

“What do you mean, ‘actually’?” Wei Wuxian asks reflexively, picking up his brush and carefully crossing yet another failed stanza off his list. “It’s about what it’s about - expanding my foreplay repertoire so that Lan Zhan doesn’t get bored and leave me for Mianmian.”

“You said it wasn’t about inciting rage,” Nie Huaisang continues thoughtfully, completely ignoring him. “So what else would you need to draw out of people?”

He tilts his face up towards the ceiling and purses his lips.

“It wouldn’t be happiness - we’ve already got charms for that - sadness? But why would you-”

Nie Huaisang freezes, and then slowly, carefully, brings his eyes back down to meet Wei Wuxian’s.

Theirs is a generation that grew up in war. Who among them doesn’t have unresolved grief? Who doesn’t have emotions they’ve repressed (trauma, resentment, guilt) - at first because there wasn’t the time or energy between the fighting and the surviving to properly work through them, and then afterwards because it just seemed easier to move on and try to forget?

(How many ghosts are unable to move on because they cannot resolve worldly attachments that they’re too afraid to remember?)

Nie Huaisang clears his throat.

“Why don’t you play me that last one again?” he suggests lightly. “I think you inverted one of the chords wrong. After we fix that, maybe it’ll work better.”

-

“Oh good, you’re back,” Wei Wuxian says when he steps into the Jingshi to find Lan Zhan already waiting. “Shall we-”

“Am I not passionate enough for you?” Lan Zhan cuts in, apropos of nothing. His voice is mild, but there’s a glint in his eyes that puts Wei Wuxian on immediate alert.

(And Little Wei Wuxian on immediate alert too, but that’s basically a given when Lan Zhan is involved.)

“...no? What makes you think that?” Wei Wuxian asks carefully, and Lan Zhan mutely lifts up a very familiar, half-finished composition.

Ah.

“I can explain,” Wei Wuxian offers quickly, holding his arms out between them and automatically stepping backwards in response to Lan Zhan’s very forceful (and very long!) step forwards.

“I have very valid reasons,” he adds, continuing to scramble back as Lan Zhan continues to advance, until he finds himself pinned between a rock and Lan Zhan’s hard, manly chest, “none of which are in any way a challenge to the strength of your ardour-”

He has just enough time for a half-laugh, half-yelp as he’s picked up and thrown onto the bed, and then all further protests are put on hold while Lan Zhan proves, aggressively and comprehensively, that he’s more than passionate enough.

-

With Lan Zhan’s musical expertise involved, the deconstruction of Requiem into its core magical components goes a lot more smoothly, and much more quickly.

The “testing” of Wei Wuxian’s derivative composition also becomes a lot more fun, if a lot less reliable in terms of producing valid results.

In the end, Wei Wuxian is only a little disappointed that they don’t manage to get an aphrodisiac song out of it.*

-

In the second year after his return, Yiling Patriarch Wei Wuxian developed the song Release, which has since been adapted for a wide range of therapeutic applications, including use in treatments for anxiety, depression, stress and trauma. 

With assistance from noted symphonimagus Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian deconstructed the then-established Requiem and, by applying its foundational magical principles in reverse, was able to create a song that, when played, encouraged the controlled expression of emotion under the player’s guidance. 

Unfortunately, his notes and experimental logs have since been lost.

-excerpt from the Annals of the Cloud Recesses

-

*

“LAN ZHAN, LOOK!” Wei Wuxian shrieks, running down the side of the hill towards him, waving a handful of leaves and flowers, “APHRODISIAC GRASS!”

[silvanable]

Hi! I saw your requests were open! This might be really specific, but it would mean the world to me if I could request Dazai, Mozart, Shakespeare, Leo and Theo from Ikevamp with an s/o that comes out to them as panromantic and nonbinary? I'm so sorry it's so specific, I've just been coming out to a lot of people recently ('cause I've found out I'm nonbinary ^^) I'm curious about what their reaction would be. Thank you, take care!

congratulations darling! i am so happy for you that you have found who you are and are able to express that with others. from one non-gender defining person to another, i send all my love.

i took this as the boys’ s/o comes out to them after meeting them. hope i did this justice and sorry for such a long wait hun!

↪  GUIDELINES

ー DAZAI OSAMU

his s/o had been meaning to tell him something, which they mentioned off handedly a few nights ago.

dazai was all ears but between his writing and his s/o’s work helping sebastian around the manor, they had not had the time.

dazai is himself, per usual.

meaning he is airy and teasing as he practically breezes through the day.

he actually forgot that his s/o had something important to tell him, especially because if it was direly important they would have told him already.

so it slipped from his mind.

constantly being interrupted and unable to tell him, did not settle well with his s/o though.

over the days they grew increasingly more anxious, as their resolve from before starts to chip away.

that is until they mention is again to dazai, who promptly forgot.

his s/o blurts it all out in one go, a mixture of emotions causing the outburst.

at first dazai does not understand and he makes that clear when he asks for his s/o to elaborate.

it takes some time, with several odd comparisons to understand from dazai, but eventually he does get it.

he finds his s/o’s confession intriguing, as the future seems far more curious and open.

he messes up from time to time but even as forgetful as he appears, dazai does his best to correct himself.

he never wants to devalue his s/o and how they want to be perceived or referred to as.

he still uses nicknames when talking to them, toshiko-san being the prominent one.

will correct others if they say something wrong or to upset his s/o about their gender.

he’s very mild about it, stating the facts rather airily but there’s an edge of a warning hidden in it.

he adores his s/o regardless and love them no matter what.

they were able to accept and love him for who and what he was, therefore he sees no issues in reciprocating the same affection.

ー LEONARDO DA VINCI

there were all sorts of things leonardo had come across in his years and more he had heard from comte from his travels through the door.

leo’s s/o was one of those rarities that, unlike before, had stumbled through the magic door from a distant future.

when he had first met them, they were curious and amusing, and he found them to be pleasant company.

of course he had asked questions, on occasions, about the future which was normally the result of his s/o offhandedly mentioning how people revered his work.

the day his s/o approached him and asked if they could talk, fidgeting and nervous, made him worry.

he had grown quite comfortable with his s/o and he had hoped they felt the same.

when the two finally sit down, his s/o has a hard time really finding their words.

leo waits patiently for them though, which eventually encourages them to speak.

they manage to explain that they had been in thought over themselves for some time, even before they traveled back through the door.

the discovery of themself was that not only did they find they had romantic inclinations towards people of all genders, but they themself did not fall into the normal binary.

out of all the suitors leo has the most relaxed response.

he is silent for a short while, while his s/o is busy twisting their sleeves, before he finally begins to ask questions.

most of the questions he asks his s/o are regards to what it means, how this effects them personally, and what more he needs to understand.

he is fairly good about their pronouns and any mistakes he makes he will apologize and correct.

sees his s/o no different, as they are who they are, and he adores them regardless.

they are unique and special to him no matter what.

ー THEODORUS VAN GOGH

despite theo’s persona of being very outwardly gruff and standoffish, he is quite sweet.

still, even knowing that his s/o was having a hard time talking to him about something very important.

something they had finally figured out about themself.

theo is as perceptive as they come though, so the tense nature of his s/o did not go unnoticed by him.

it was one evening when he was returning from work that he found his s/o out in the garden that he decided now was the time to ask them.

they were a bit tense at first, unsure of how to explain exactly what was going on.

theo reassured them, no matter what, that they could talk to him if something was bothering them.

with that encouragement his s/o decided to bite the bullet and tell him.

the words, if they could even be called that, let their lips in a panicked rush that ended with a “please don’t be mad!”

theo genuinely has to ask them to repeat what they said, slower.

they manage, one more time, to say it again, this time at an understandable speed.

after a few questions, theo seems to grasp the subject.

his first response, in fact, is to tell his s/o not to let arthur not lest the writer drag them out to the bar to join him in picking up girls.

he is very respectful towards his s/o pronouns.

would absolutely practice by himself so he could show them how dedicated he is to showing that he loves them regardless.

if his s/o decided to change their appearance, to appear less gendered, he would support.

while he might not have the best advice, he’s willing to try his best for his s/o to make them comfortable.

regardless he loves them and they’re perfect to him either way, so long as they are themself.

ー WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

shakespeare is probably the most curious out of them about his s/o.

so when his s/o says they have something to tell him in the middle of their afternoon tea, he is all ears.

his s/o starts off, reiterating that they are from the future, and some things are different, more people have a better understand of themselves and who they are.

he is probably the easiest to explain to about being panromantic and nonbinary.

shakespeare, while often very vocal, seems to actually stay silent to absorb all that he’s being told.

when his s/o is finished he asks questions, as the topic has piqued his interest.

absolutely would make a comment about how women are beautiful and delicacies of this world, meant to be admired.

he uses this as the base line for understand that his s/o sees many people, of all forms, very beautiful.

would have no problem with using their pronouns correctly.

shakespeare would be curious to learn more about their gender as well, how one discovers themself like his s/o did.

this boy would most certainly go out of his way to adjust his s/o wardrobe for them.

this man is a theater vamp, you can’t tell me he does not have a ginormous walk-in closet in his villa with a huge array of outfits.

catch  our dear will actually using gender neutral terms in his plays from time to time.

one particular play he has yet to finish follows a young, beautiful lead who none can define without great respect and admiration.

he happens to be very equip for genderless poetry to his s/o too.

shakespeare knows how to spin words that inspire emotions and his s/o does that to him, so much he has to shower them with verses.

ー WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART

talking to wolf is not always the easiest task, as he is quite reserved and silent himself but that was never an issue between him and his s/o.

until his s/o gets too nervous about something very important that they want to say.

it was not that his s/o was worried about what he would think or say, but still they could not shake the general nerves.

it was always a process and part of it was his s/o rationalizing and gathering up their courage.

wolf is probably the easiest to tell.

his s/o explaining their romantic attractions and gender perception of themself does not earn much more then confusion.

he has his s/o explain, asking questions here and there to get a better grasp of the topic.

one thing that does start him is when it clicks that his s/o is attracted to all persons romantically.

he feels a little threatened by that, as if suddenly that means anyone could win the affections of his s/o.

really it just makes him feel a little insecure.

other than that he has no issues.

he does bring it up to his s/o some time later though.

it takes some time to convince him that just because they are panromantic does not mean they will fall for anyone.

especially when they were already in love with him.

wolf does his best to stick to his s/o pronouns. he is probably one of the most diligent ones in the manor.

he practices with himself in his room too.

absolutely will correct the other residents when they use the wrong pronouns.

the usual quiet and reserved wolf will interrupt conversation to make sure they know his s/o prefers to be referred differently.

that surprises everyone, since it’s so out of character.

 but it also shows how much he is dedicated to his s/o and their happiness.

[lilacslovers]

💎 Lilac x Gordie {Royalty + Royal Guard AU Fic} Chapter One | The Meeting 💎

aaa i’m so happy! i’ve finished a fic of the first meeting of my s/i and gordie in the royalty au <3

yes it does say chapter one but. idk if this a proper series, its possibly a figurative ‘lets start from chapter one !’ its also just. omg it’s just a chapter like. not even a drabble. just a whole chapter HSJSND

but i truly hope you guys enjoy this! :0 (fic is in the keep reading !! ^^)

•••

The dark oak-stained carriage rattled around Lilac with every prance of Rapidash transporting it, the tight space and cool, pillowy seats barely making up for the sheer cold she was moving into.

In her gloved hands lied a handwritten letter from the Royals in Circhester; a neat cursive paragraph requesting her and her other guard apprentices to protect their home. After all, they would need good protection to hide their most precious jewels in the family, and they required the best of the best. In a way, it flattered Lilac to know they wanted her to assist them.

She folded the letter back into her sac tied at her waist, cuddling into her cape in shock from the sudden Circhesterian chill; she wasn’t too far from the castle now, and wished that they could’ve made her Royal Guard uniform more cozy inside. Perhaps they considered this weather late spring or summer temperatures...

Off guard, the shrill of Rapidash’s cry as it finally came to a halt nearly catapulted her into the rock-hard wood in front of her. She gasped in relief to have caught herself in time, straightening herself to correct such unawareness.

A crunch came from the snow as she dropped down from her carriage, a bag with her necessities slinged over her armoured shoulder. Walking to the near entrance, she turned to the coachman.

“Brr, it’s quite cold around here! You better stay safe in that house, Lilac!” he said, smiling cheerfully.

“Thank you, coachman.” she replied, turning next to the Rapidash, stroking its soft mane.

“And thank you, Rapidash.” she grinned at the Pokémon, in which it whinnied gleefully in response.

Walking across the tiled road to Circhester Castle, the snowy bushes brushed up against her, gorgeously grown flowers to withstand the eternal cold peeked their heads out of the fluffy hedges. Already employed guards outside were gossiping to each other about the family; perhaps they were new guards, like herself. Lilac halted, gaining the attention of the two guards at the grand door they stood up against.

Lilac decided to break the tension between them.

“I am incredibly sorry to interrupt. I am Lilac. I am here to sign myself into the occupation of Guard. I have a letter from the castle itself if you were to want it-“

Before her quiet voice were to finish her sentence, the doors loudly creaked open, revealing the Queen herself; the entrance surprised all three of the guards, yet they all retained the same serious face to show their composure. The Queen gave Lilac a stern look...

“Oh!” came the cheery exclamation of the Queen Melony, holding her hand to her face. “Welcome, dear! I suppose you must be the new Indoor Guard, correct?”

“I- um,” Lilac mumbled, clearing her throat to free the words she had before being surprised. “Yes, your Majesty. I have brought your letter. It is an honour to work with you.”

“Come inside!” invited the Queen. “‘Tis warmer in here, after all! I’ll show you to your position here in the castle.”

“Ah, thank you, your Majesty.”

•••

The warmth of the castle quickly defrosted Lilac’s freezing arms, and the sudden relaxation couldn’t help but make her stare in wonder at the details within: the castle walls were extremely high, regal tapestries hung. Across the tapestries came multiple family portraits from popular artists, and looking closely at the painting would reveal details drawn ever so to-the-point, it made Lilac ponder how someone could even make such a realistic piece in a time limit...

“Oh, I must say,” the Queen began to state. “My children can be quite the troublemakers, hoho... My youngest, a daughter and three sons, I believe they sometimes choose whom they like to see more often, more with my sons, I think. But... my oldest...”

She stopped in her tracks, and so did Lilac.

“... Well, he’s heir to the Throne, now. He possibly cannot choose who he works with, hoho!”

“I see, your Majesty.” Lilac lightly smiled to match the emotion of the Queen’s conversation. “I shall wish the Prince congratulations on being first to the Throne.”

“Oh, he would simply love that,” the Queen chortled. “He is quite the sensible man. I do hope he is excited to rule... I’ve had quite the years around here.”

It was hard for Lilac to decipher who this Prince was; after all, the long generations of family portraits across the wall couldn’t help Lilac’s imagination at all.

Queen Melony pointed to a space by a door, where Lilac stationed herself onto.

“Perfect! Your routine will to be to guard at this area, as well as to watch the household members around here if needed.

You will also patrol around here with other guards around 12 to 1 o’clock PM. Is that understood?”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Lilac agreed, straightening herself stoically. The Queen promptly smiled, and as she went out of sight, another guard poked their head out from the corner.

“Psst, hey. New guard.” they squeaked.

Lilac made eye contact with the other new guard.

“Have you seen Prince Gordie yet?”

“Who?”

“Prince Gordie!” another guard peeped. “C’mon, ‘who?’ Like, the Prince that is, like, constantly just... around? And cool?”

“I really don’t mean to be out of the loop, but...” Lilac held her chin to think. “I haven’t heard anything about any Prince Gordie... All I heard back from my town was when the Queen of Circhester came to visit, and when she did, it was never a ‘visit’ visit, only a ‘come to check out the best carriages’ visit.”

“Oh my Arceus, the Prince...!” yet another guard joined the conversation. “He looked shortly at me once. I just... I felt so seen...”

Oh, brother. Lilac looked away, until the commotion of the group caught her attention once again.

“Ah, look, there he comes...!”

A man came from the depths of the hallway, and suddenly it felt like everything was going slower - or perhaps Lilac was imagining things...

The man had his soft hair tied into a well-kept short ponytatail, as well as his soft and cute lapis eyes kept relaxed and sensual.

He walked with such confidence only a prince could ever have, his cape drifting gently across the satin carpets below. A slight jingling sound came from his minimalistic, yet beautiful necklace around his collar, the pendant resting on his chest where his relaxed blouse shaped the area around such jewellery.

His shoes lightly skipped across the satin carpets to not make even one noise, yet his heels made an dull tap that satisfyingly echoed across the area.

Whatever decent vision Lilac had of the Prince completely went from her mind; the Prince of Circhester, in her eyes, was indeed quite more handsome than she thought.

The guards squealed in delight, making all sorts of gestures to make Prince Gordie look over.

“Gordie! Could you please have a quick discussion with us? We need to talk to you about something?”

... And suddenly, all light the Prince had in his eyes disappeared as soon as he looked at them.

“... Gordie?” his deep, muttering voice repeated, his eyebrows furrowed. Lilac could see the optimism drain from the group, herself shivering along with them even if not involved.

“Never, in all my life, have I heard a stranger call me only by my first name. From what I recall, my title here is ‘Prince Gordie of Circhester’. Is that correct?” his angered voice paused for a while to let the guards rapidly nod their heads, truly attempting to not get into trouble.

“Yes. Now, all I want to hear from you few now is to refer to me as ‘Prince Gordie’. If you cannot, then ‘your Highness’, but if you can’t even manage a formal tone with a prince, you shall expect to be evicted from this castle. Is that understood?”

The guards nodded once again, mumbling out a few ‘Understood, Prince Gordie’s out from their held breath.

“Now. Don’t you have some patrolling to do? It is, after all, 12 o’clock. Go.”

The guards scurried away slowly, cowering from the unfortunate interaction.

Lilac, afraid herself of getting into an altercation, began to steadily inch her way around one corner.

“Please wait.” the Prince interrupted in a much normal, albeit naturally deep tone. Lilac hastily straightened her back once again, turned to face him.

“I did not mean you, I apologise for any confusion.” he stated, grinning. “It’s not actually 12, I just wanted them to leave, hehe.”

“My complete mistake, your Highness.” Lilac replied. “That is quite a tactic to make somebody leave, it’s certainly impressive, your Highness.”

“Hm,” Prince Gordie hummed, taking his chin with one hand. “Tell me, what is your name?”

Lilac paused, finding herself quite confounded at his question; oftentimes, asking for a guard’s name would be informal, as was taught in training.

“Ah, um, if you want it, It’s Lilac, your Highness.”

“Lilac, eh?” Prince Gordie grinned to himself. “A fitting, lovely name for a lovely guard.”

Lilac’s heart struck from the compliment, trying not to show any emotion upon her face, but the Prince began to speak again.

“I must go. I have quite a lot of errands to do.” he sighed, flicking his hair away from his vision.

“But, I do hope to see you again... Lilac.”

Prince Gordie gave a wave as he walked back out of the corridor, Lilac waving goodbye at the same time. As soon as he went completely, she faced the brick wall, intensely pondering the peculiar conversation she had had...

Surely...? Surely, he wasn’t trying to get her into trouble...? But, why would he take interest of only getting her name? Perhaps he was... No, absolutely not, Princes don’t form relationships with their servants...!

Unless, Prince Gordie wanted to?

Nevertheless, Lilac herself had duties to do. But, as she began to walk away, she couldn’t help but think as she rested her palm on her blushing cheek...

[cancerbiophd]

PhD Dissertation Masterpost of Advice and Resources*

*or at least what helped me when I was writing mine for a PhD in Cancer Biology in the US--so they may not apply to other fields and/or countries.

Firstly, what a PhD Dissertation and Defense process is like (for my program)

Always check your university’s graduate college’s dissertation formatting and guidelines. That should be your #1 rulebook to work off of. Download their formatting guide and read it thoroughly. Before turning in your dissertation, make sure you’ve addressed all the requirements. 

Get a sample from a previous student as reference, preferably one from your program, or even better, your lab. All dissertations are publicly available online at your university’s library (with the exception of those with embargoes). Always have an example on hand--you never know when it’ll come in handy for minor formatting details, or even references (if it’s a dissertation from your own lab). 

Familiarize yourself with whatever writing program you’re going to use, and if it can do any of the formatting automatically for you. For example, Microsoft Word can make a Table of Contents for you if you use their Automated Styles, and you can use the Navigation Pane to view all your sections at a glance (and jump instantly to that section). I highly recommend figuring out all the formatting before you start writing, as it may be really frustrating to go back and fix things (especially if you’re doing this on the due date). Scroll down to the end of this post for formatting resources. 

I think the ideal timeline is one month per chapter, give or take a few weeks depending on how much you have done beforehand and how much time you have per day to allocate to writing. There will be a lot of back-and-forth edits with your advisor, you may find out there are missing data that need analyzing/finalizing, etc. Your last month or so of writing may have to be dedicated 100% to your dissertation, so plan accordingly. I have heard many PhD’s tell me to even start a year out, because you may be busy your last couple of months with job interviews, or even starting your new job, etc. 

Export your images as .png if possible or your document will become too large. 

Use a citation manager, if you don’t have one already, such as Mendeley. 

Also have a way to keep track what each reference is about, especially for the Introduction as that may require some new additions (ie. things you learned in class or lab meeting but never actually had to chase down a primary reference for). You can use Excel, Word, or good ol’ fashioned printouts in subject binders--anything that helps you remember what the paper is about what. I ended up citing over 400 references in my dissertation--that was a lot of papers to keep track of!

As with any large writing project, make an outline first. This way you can better structure everything from a bird’s eye view, and make sure you’re not missing anything. Just like building a house, you need to set up the frames first before the drywall. The outline to my Introduction was 5 pages long before I even wrote the first complete sentence, and the outline also helped me not feel too overwhelmed with the task before me (likewise, I also started off each paragraph with a brief outline of the points I wanted to cover. It worked really well in getting rid of writer’s block)

Have a separate folder for each chapter, to keep things better organized and easier to manage. I didn’t put everything together in a single file until the very end. 

And always back up your files, or work entirely off a Cloud-based system, like Dropbox or Box (which your university may provide for free). There’s absolutely nothing worse than losing allll your hard work, especially your Dissertation! 

Set aside at least 1 hour before your Dissertation is due to your committee for last minute issues, like formatting, uploading, etc. 

If you’re in the Bio field, I highly recommend making your figures using Biorender.com. It honestly saved me so much time, and it took my dissertation and defense to a whole new level of professionalism. It’s free to use for students, though the paid student version ($35/mo) has more features. 

Links to other resources:

University of Michigan guide for using Microsoft Word for Dissertations

Dissertation templates (with build-in-instructions) from Duke University (scroll down to end of page) (thanks @conquerorwurm for this one)

Making an outline from Sacred Heart University

More about making an outline for Dissertations

Other tips on surviving this challenging time:

Write smart, not hard. Use your energy and creativity levels wisely. For example, I found out I was really great at synthesizing thoughts (and thus words on the document) in the morning, but not so much at night. So I did most of my writing in the morning, and then reserved evenings for making figures and adding references (aka things that required less brain-energy).

Take breaks! This is definitely a marathon, so please try not to push yourself too hard to prevent burning out. Here’s what my writing schedule looked like 1 week before my dissertation was due to my committee--you can see I worked hard, but I also had lots of breaks throughout the day to eat and/or recharge, and I tried to sleep 7-8 hrs/night. 

The moment you think you can’t do something alone, seek out a resource that will help you. There’s no time or energy to waste. Resources include: your advisor, another lab member, a university writing center, online tutorials, even other grad students on tumblr. No one else has written a dissertation on their own, so you shouldn’t have to either. 

Have a support system, like another fellow student going through something similar who you can talk to. It helps so much to not be lonely during this. 

Have something fun planned after you turn in your dissertation and after you defend to look forward to. Sometimes all that was left to get me through the tough and frustrating moments was the thought of all my plans post-defense: going to my favorite used bookstore, reading for fun again, relaxing and watching movies, and more. Small things, but oh so powerful to keep me going sometimes. 

You will get through this. I know it’s hard. I know how close to tears you are. But I also know you will survive. Remember all those tough times in the past? Like when you were studying for your qualifying exams? Or writing and re-writing that grant application for what seemed like the 500th time? Those were some tough times, but you got through them all. And so you will also get through this.

And lastly, but probably most importantly:

Do what works for you. You haven’t made it this far in your academic career without a solid understanding of your own working style, so stick to that. My advice is just what happened to work for me, personally, and thus may not apply to anyone else. 

Good luck, and congratulations, soon-to-be Dr!

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 6: You Know You Got Me In The Palm Of Your Hand]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Mean It by Lauv.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sex and violence, slavery in American history.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii​​​​​ @bramblesforbreakfast​​​​​​ @writerxinthedark​​ @maggieroseevans​​​​​​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​​​​​​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​​​​​​ @escabell​​​​​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​​​​​ @someforeigntragedy​​​​​​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​​​​​​​​​​ @deacyblues​​​​​​ ​ @tensecondvacation​​​​​​​ @brianssixpence​​​​​​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​​ @some-major-ishues​​ @haileymorelikestupid​​ @loveandbeloved29​​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

What The Fuck, Washington Animals Are Weird

I woke up in a bedroom drenched in a rainbow of darkness, shades of grey vacillating from charcoal to the wings of a mourning dove; indolent dawn rain pattered against the window. There were no glaring veins of sunlight spilling in through gaps in the curtains, no promise of dry invigorating heat, no whistle of vicious parched wind. Toto, we’re not in Phoenix anymore.

“Ugh,” I complained to the empty room, unraveling from a tangle of blankets patterned with cacti and pure white clouds and rust-orange suns.

I clicked off my iPhone alarm—I’d beaten it by two minutes; my circadian rhythm was finally conceding that this whole Pacific Time thing was permanent—and read my nine new texts from Joe.

3:12 a.m.: Hey it’s an emergency what’s the plural of octopus

3:13 a.m.: Rami is insisting that it is octopuses

3:14 a.m.: But it’s octopi, right? Right?? I just announced in front of everyone that it’s octopi

3:15 a.m.: Scarlett is verbally abusing me

3:18 a.m.: Oh you are probably asleep

3:21 a.m.: Update, according to the internet Rami is right and now I have to assume a new identity and move to Antarctica

3:25 a.m.: We can discuss logistics of the Antarctica relocation tomorrow

3:26 a.m.: Hope you like penguins

3:30 a.m.: Okay goodnight!! Don’t let the mythical creatures bite!!

“That man,” I murmured to myself, smiling.

I typed out: It’s definitely octopuses, you clown. Then I deleted ‘clown’ and replaced it with its Italian equivalent: pagliaccio. Text sent.

Joe responded almost instantly. I had to ask Lucy what pagliaccio meant and now she’s verbally abusing me too. Send help. See you at lunch. xx

Wait, two Xs? What did Xs mean?? Kisses???

Did Joseph Francis Mazzello, sexy undead Italian man, just send me multiple text kisses?

“You’re gonna give me an aneurism, Chicago boy,” I muttered at my phone as I slid it into the pocket of my flannel pajama pants. And then I glanced out the bedroom window into a tussle of rain and thick, caliginous fog.

Just a few feet beyond the misted glass, its leathery talons hooked around a branch of Charlie’s decades-old red alder tree, was an owl. But not just any owl. A hulking, spotlessly white owl.

“Oh, hey, you,” I whispered, leaning closer, pressing my palms against the cold window. My hands left transparent imprints in the condensation. “Hey, buddy. Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping? I sure wish I was. Did something wake you up? Did your idiot vampire boyfriend disturb you with a series of ridiculous texts?”

The owl just contemplated me with unnervingly vast, slick, engrossed eyes. And there was something else, too: those eyes were blood red.

“So you’re an albino owl, huh big guy? Good for you. You know, usually albino animals don’t last all that long in the wild. Because they’re really easy for predators and prey to spot. Or they get skin cancer. So congratulations on living to become the voluptuous, tremendously creepy creature that you are today. Job well done.”

The owl stared back at me unflinchingly, blinked, then resumed staring. Rainwater gathered in swelling beads like blood drops on its ivory-colored beak and talons.

“Well,” I noted, turning away and grabbing my shower towel off the back of the desk chair. “You don’t get that in Arizona.”

Thirty minutes later, I was bounding down the stairs two at a time to meet Charlie in the kitchen. He was browsing through his daily newspaper at the table, drinking coffee and nibbling messily on burnt triangles of toast. Crumbs littered his moustache.

“You didn’t tell me that living here came with the added benefit of freaky albino animal friends.”

Charlie crinkled his forehead at me. “Huh?”

“How was bowling with the dads last night?”

“Oh, awesome!” he exclaimed, folding up his newspaper and slapping it down on the table. “We bowled against the team from Mora and it came right down to the wire, but we caught them. Dr. Lee got a strike on his very last turn. He always seems to do that...he’ll be bowling hit or miss all night and then when it really matters he manages to pull a strike out of nowhere. He’s a beast.”

“He’s a pretty remarkable guy,” I agreed, rummaging through the cabinets for Pop-Tarts.

“He mentioned that you and his son were really hitting it off,” Charlie said, grinning. “Not the ragey blond one. The spindly annoying one. What’s his name again? Josh? Jimmy?”

“Joe.” I conjured up my best poker face of lofty indifference. It crumbled like a sandcastle beneath reckless, rushing footsteps.

“Ohhhh, I saw that!” Charlie said, pointing, delighted. “Check out that smile. My gorgeous, brilliant progeny has a crush. I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t be single for long up here. Alright, I’m ready. Bring on the grandchildren.”

“Shut up,” I pleaded good-naturedly.

“Relax, I have great news. According to Gwil, that Joe kid is pretty wild about you too.”

“Oh, is that what you old guys do between bowling turns? Betray your children’s deepest confidences? Matchmake them over nachos and chili cheese dogs?” Still, my curiosity was piqued. “What else did Dr. Lee say about Joe?”

“I think the exact word he used was...” Charlie reminisced, sipping his coffee, curls of steam pouring over the rim of the mug. “Smitten.”

Supernatural Pictionary

I turned the notebook to Joe so he could see; everyone else momentarily covered their eyes or looked away. Then Lucy started the timer on her iPhone. Thirty seconds.

“Go!” Lucy announced.

“I think it’s a boat,” Rami said, hesitantly, haltingly, squinting at Joe with great concentration.

“Do you?” Joe teased.

“Yeah. But I’m also getting something about a fish.”

“Maybe I’m trying to make you think it’s a fish because it’s actually a boat,” Joe replied flippantly.

Rami muttered: “Or you want me to think it’s a boat because it’s actually a fish.”

“Interesting.”

“Now you’re mentally singing Never Gonna Give You Up just to fuck with me.”

Joe gasped, pressing a palm to his chest. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do!”

Scarlett snickered, dunking her chicken tender in honey mustard, slurping Coke through a straw clenched between crimson-painted lips. “That sounds exactly like something you would do.”

“Fifteen seconds,” Lucy warned.

“Fish or boat, boat or fish...” Rami chanted, peering fixedly at Joe.

“Make a decision,” I taunted, hugging the notebook to my chest.

“I’m going with boat,” Rami decided.

“Final answer?” Lucy asked, then stopped the timer when Rami nodded.

“Loser!” Joe cackled victoriously, leaping out of his chair, waving his L-shaped fingers in the air. Calawah University students at nearby tables glanced over with wide, startled eyes, their beloved chicken tenders briefly forgotten. “How’s it feel to not win every round of a game, huh?! Loser!”

I flipped my notebook so Rami could see the extremely unskilled pencil sketch I’d drawn there: a smiling fish. “My condolences.”

“Damn.” Rami pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet and slid it across the table to Joe. Joe snatched it up, tucked it into the waistline of his jeans like a stripper collecting money in her G-string, and slung his arm around my shoulders.

“We are the champions. Bask in our glory.”

Scarlett turned on her iPhone flashlight and waved it in slow arcs over her head. “Youuuuu are the champions, my friendssssss...”

From my usual lunch table, Jessica gazed at my esteemed place among the Lees with palpable envy, resting her chin in her hands. I had worked out a schedule that seemed fairly obvious given my extensive experience as a child of divorce: lunch with Jessica et al. one day, lunch with the Lees the next. I took a bite of the Chipotle veggie bowl that Joe had insisted on ordering for me and tossed Jessica a sympathetic wave. Get Ben’s Snapchat for me! she mouthed back. I harbored serious doubts that Benjamin August Hardy, former professional assassin, born in 1893, had a Snapchat.

Joe’s words from last week rolled around in my head; I could see him all over again, nodding to the enormous painting hung in Gwil’s upstairs office, telling me about those startling, ethereal figures who had initiated Ben into life as a vampire. They call themselves the Draghi. They collect dues from covens, offer protection, keep order, protect our secrets. But they also demand loyalty. They force people they want into service. They might try to make it seem like you have a choice, but you don’t. They destroy anyone who tries to resist them. And they feed on humans.

“This is so awesome,” Lucy sighed, elated. “We could never play Pictionary before, drawing something is way too much of a mental process, Rami always figured it out right away...”

But now they had a built-in blindfold, someone who could draw without Rami getting a peek into their thoughts, a fighting chance at hiding the truth from him...for thirty seconds, at least.

“Okay Benny Boy, you’re up.” Joe darted over to Ben’s side of the table and massaged his tense, muscular shoulders as Ben grimaced. “You got this. I believe in you. Baby Swan is gonna pitch you a home run.”

“I’ll pass,” Ben said.

“You can’t!” Lucy cried. “Ben, please? Rami got Scarlett’s, and then he didn’t get Joe’s...and I know he’s going to see though me immediately. You’re our only chance to tie things up and maybe beat him!”

“Traitor,” Rami told Lucy affectionately.

“Uhh...” Ben hesitated, glimpsing longingly at the doors that led outside to the grove of bigleaf maple trees. He was fidgeting restlessly with his vape pen.

“Come on, Benny!” Joe begged. “I’ll owe you. I’ll do anything.”

Ben perked up a little bit. “You’ll do my Calc 2 homework for a month?”

Joe groaned theatrically, but nodded. He was wearing a grey U Chicago hoodie today. “Fine. Okay. But you’re gonna have to learn that shit eventually, I can’t take the MCAT for you.”

“Deal.” Ben bumped his knuckles against Joe’s.

“Batter up,” Joe heralded in his best mock-umpire voice, grinning at me expectantly, drumming the table with his palms. “Go Baby Swan, go! What will she choose? Will she continue with the nautical theme? Will she change it up, maybe switch to beloved Chicago landmarks? Baseball or food? Will she invent a variety of pizza even more despicable than pineapple?”

“Hm.” I flipped to a fresh notebook page, scratched my temple with the eraser end of the pencil, then quickly sketched a picture for Ben. “Okay, I’m ready.” I showed the drawing to Ben while everyone else covered their eyes.

Ben shook his head, scowling. “You’ll have to try again. I have no idea what that is.”

“Really?!” I checked the picture again. Okay, it definitely didn’t belong in the Louvre or anything, but it was lifelike enough to be decipherable. “You don’t recognize it? At all?”

“No,” Ben replied flatly.

From behind his shielded eyes, Rami scanned through the images in Ben’s mind. He dropped his hands onto the table. “SpongeBob?!”

“Who...?” Ben ventured.

Everyone else looked too. “Oh yeah, that’s definitely SpongeBob,” Joe said, then chuckled. “Aww, Baby Swan, you even remembered his little necktie!”

“It’s so cute!” Lucy trilled.

Ben just stared at the picture, blinking, completely lost, increasingly morose. And now there was a new guest at the table; or maybe not a new one, maybe just a quiet one, something that perched on the ledge of every conversation and field of vision just waiting to tap its claws against the wall and make its presence known: that interminable reminder of Ben’s unconventional past life, of how incomparable his vampiric upbringing was to those of the rest of the Lee kids.

“Benny Boy, you’ve never seen SpongeBob?” Joe inquired gently. “No problem. We’ll have a marathon tonight. I have the entire series on DVD. Also several Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy action figures.”

Scarlett snorted. “This is why you’ve been single since Hoover was president.”

“I wasn’t single the whole time,” Joe corrected.

“Oh, really?” Not that I’m interested, my voice suggested. I was a total liar. I was super interested. Thank the great deity that Rami and Ben couldn’t read me like a restaurant menu. Today’s specials are Being In Love With Someone Wildly Inappropriate for $15.99, and also Lamenting My Own Lack Of Sexual Experience for $11.99. Oh, and clam chowder.

“He had a couple of...what would you call them?” Scarlett combed her elegant fingers through her voluminous blonde hair. “What’s the modern vernacular? Fuck buddies? Booty calls? Netflix and chill partners?”

My stomach lurched; I nonchalantly buried my fork in a mountain of guacamole and left it there. I kept my lips turned up into a smile like a mask. Of course he’s loved other people. Duh. He’s hot and immortal. Get over it. But that didn’t calm my pounding heartbeat at all, didn’t soothe that sudden and irrational melancholy.

“Whoa whoa whoa, okay, you’re making it sound way worse than it was,” Joe protested, glancing at me nervously.

Scarlett continued: “It wasn’t serious, whatever it was. None of them would have cared about your action figure collection or obsession with a city you haven’t lived in for fifty years. It wasn’t your personality they wanted. Thank god.”

Oh this is bad, I thought helplessly. How am I ever going to be able to compete with the memory of countless gorgeous vampire girlfriends?

“Uh, ScarJo, you’re single too.” And Joe’s nickname for her was strangely apt; Scarlett could pass for Scarlett Johansson’s younger, blonder, much hotter sister. And Scarlett Johansson, in case you’re somehow unaware, is already pretty fucking hot.

Scarlett flashed a grin. “Entirely by choice.”

“And much to Mercy’s eternal and profound concern,” Lucy told me. “She stages an intervention at least twice a month. Did I overhear one last week, Scarlett?”

“Oh jesus, yeah. I was like, ‘Mom, what the hell do I need a husband for? I have my own money. I can fix household appliances. I have a vibrator. I’m good to go.’”

Joe rocked back in his chair, howling. “You did not tell Mom that!”

“I did. She was so distraught. She just kind of pinched her eyes shut and shuddered and then went out back to feed the alpacas.”

“Scarlett, babe,” Rami managed between gales of laughter. “A vibrator isn’t going to keep you company for all of eternity. It’s not a suitable substitute for a life partner.”

“You’re right. It’s even better. It’ll never abandon or disappoint me. Assuming I keep the batteries fresh, of course.”

“Oh my god,” Lucy giggled into her hands.

“She’s not wrong,” I said, shrugging, sipping my Diet Coke.  

And Joe peered over at me, surprised, intrigued, slowly raising his thin dark eyebrows. I winked back. Yeah, okay, I’ve never slept with someone. But that doesn’t mean I’ve never had an orgasm.

“Ah, loud thoughts! Loud thoughts! Joe, please!” Rami moaned, pressing his balled fists to his forehead.

Ben smirked. “There’s a color I’ve never seen from you before, Joe.”

“This family is the worst!” Joe exploded.

“I like that girl,” Scarlett decided, signaling to me with glossy maroon fingernails. “She can stay.”

Joe sighed, flustered, then shook it off as he turned to me. “You coming over tonight?”

“I can’t spend every night at your house petting alpacas, mob guy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, smiling, draping his arm around the back of my chair. “Why not?”

“Well, my tonight-specific reason is that I’m visiting a friend.”

“Cool. Your friends are my friends. Can I visit too?”

“You’re aware that you’re a legit stalker, right?” But actually, Archer was dying to meet Joe: the loud Lee, the approachable Lee, the Lee who I definitely liked more than a Tinder swipe could ever convey. This could work. “Offer to buy dinner and you can come.”

“I’m a walking Visa, baby.”

Ben stood, hauled on his backpack, gathered up his trash to throw away. “I need a smoke break before Chem. See you guys later.”

“Don’t forget!” Joe called after him. “SpongeBob marathon starts at 8! I’ll bring the Milk Duds!”

And when Ben disappeared through the doors, a solemn hush descended over the table.

“Poor guy,” Lucy said softly. The other Lees nodded.

And again, I recalled what Joe had told me in Gwil’s office, what he had said when I asked how Ben came to join the Lee family. He was assigned to us, to be the liaison to our coven. And Gwil saw something in him. Potential, suffering, unrealized decency, I don’t know. But Gwil worked on him for years, trying to convince Ben to leave the Draghi when his contract was up and come live with us. To give a peaceful life a try. And to be honest, Ben never seemed interested. But something must have resonated with him, because we opened the front door on October 15th, 2016 and he was sitting on the steps of our porch with a single suitcase, puffing on that fucking vape pen and watching the storm clouds roll in off the Pacific Ocean.

But why would they just let him leave? I had asked, tracing my fingertips over the uncanny and magnificent faces in that painting. Why would they let him live?

Because they know how valuable he is. And because they think they can get him back.

“I think he’s a good person,” I said, breaking the silence. “You know. Underneath the whole being raised to be a killing machine thing.”

“Yeah,” Rami replied, frowning thoughtfully. “Just try not to spend too much time alone with him.”

Car Jacks And Sneak Attacks

“Joe, this is Archer James Foxchild, my first-ever best friend.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” Joe said, shaking Archer’s oil-stained hand. “I understand you are really good at making mud pies and poking dead animals with sticks.”

Archer chuckled. “It’s true. We found a shark tooth down at La Push one time and I convinced Baby Swan here that it was from a sea monster. She had nightmares for months. Charlie called my dad over it and I got my Game Boy taken away.”

“No!” Joe gasped in horror. “Were you a Pokémon guy?”

“For sure.”

“Ruby or Sapphire?”

“Emerald.”

Joe grinned. “This dude knows what’s up.”

“And to think, my grandpa tried to tell me that you guys were freaks,” Archer replied.

“Well,” Joe conceded. “Not all of us.”  

“Maybe you two should start dating,” I said. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit in my Honda and eat my Taco Bell cheese quesadillas and Cinnamon Twists and try not to interrupt all the sex.”

“Yes, you brought Taco Bell,” Archer sighed euphorically. “Give me five minutes, I just gotta finish rotating these tires real quick.” He jogged to the other end of the garage, knelt beside a Ford Mustang that was propped up on a jack, and starting twisting off lug nuts with a tire iron.

“You have a nice place here,” Joe observed, strolling around the small garage with his hands in the front pocket of his U Chicago hoodie, eyeing the fractures in the concrete floor and the spidering cracks in the windows. “You have any investors?”

“Are you kidding?!” Archer replied from the Mustang. “No, man, it’s just me. I rent for now, but at some point I’ll buy my own shop. Once I’ve saved up enough. A great big one with shiny new equipment and no mice squeaking behind the walls.”

“What’s your cash flow like?”

“I’m netting around three grand a month after taxes.”

“Not bad!” Joe noted admiringly.

“Yeah. It’s a hustle, but I love it.”

“Hey, I don’t know if you’d be interested—and absolutely no pressure if you’re not, really—but I do a lot of work with start-ups and I’d love to help you get into your own shop. By this Christmas, preferably. If we can work out a deal.”

“Really?!” Archer peeked incredulously over the hood of the Mustang.

“Absolutely.”

Archer beamed at me. “This guy is willing to drop serious cash to look good in front of you. You should probably marry him. No prenup though.”

I held my pinky out towards Joe, grinning. “No more sad prenups.”

He laughed and hooked my pinky with his. “Bankrupt me, bitch.”

I heard the metallic clang of a lug nut hitting the concrete floor and rolling under the Mustang. “Come back here, you bastard,” Archer muttered, then dropped to his stomach and crawled beneath the car.

“Hey, kid, be careful,” I fretted, crossing my arms across my chest and taking a step closer.

“Relax, Baby Swan, I am a professional, changing a tire for me is like feeding a fish for you, so just chill and keep fantasizing about those Cinnamon Twists—”

There was a squeal of metal as the car jack collapsed and the Mustang came crashing down. In a fraction of a second—faster than I could see him moving, faster than I could loose a scream—Joe had soared across the garage, yanked Archer out from beneath the falling Mustang, and dragged him to the center of the room.

“Oh fuck,” Archer wheezed, his dark eyes huge and fascinated and horrified. “Grandpa was right.”

I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That)

We rolled up to the Lee house in my 1999 Honda Accord just as I polished off the last of my Cinnamon Twists and Archer chewed, tentatively and dazedly, on a Cheesy Gordita Crunch. The sun was beginning to set in a clouded sky that perpetually threatened rain.

He asked Joe for the fifth time from the back seat: “But wait, seriously, no one is going to eat me, right? Because I’m too young to die. I haven’t taken enough vacations yet. I can’t die without seeing Hawaii. I want to swim with the sea turtles.”

“No, none of us have ever eaten people. Well, almost none of us. Maybe stay away from Ben.”

“I would like a little more exposition,” Archer replied, blanching.

“Hey, if you stay until 8, you guys can join us for the SpongeBob marathon!”

Gwil and Mercy were waiting on the front porch, thanks to Joe’s ‘hey I accidentally exposed myself as a paranormal being and now we have a new friend, plz don’t be mad okay love you see you soon!1!!’ text.

“Welcome, sweetheart!” Mercy fussed, enfolding Archer into her arms as soon as he stepped out of the Honda. “Would you like some hummingbird cake? I just baked it this morning. And maybe some sweet tea too. And some peanut butter cookies. And banana pudding.”

“Sure,” he responded, bewildered. This lady does not seem like a bloodsucking demon, that voice said. And he was absolutely right.

“I’ll fix you up a tray,” Mercy promised, and hurried into the house.

“We’re so very happy to have you, Mr. Foxchild.” Gwil shook Archer’s hand firmly. “We don’t get many visitors around here. I’m sure you understand why.”

“My grandpa always insisted that there was something off about you guys. Especially you, Dr. Lee. Said you shouldn’t still be around.”

“Yes, I imagine that would have been disconcerting for him. He must have remembered us from the 1940s...that’s the last time we settled down in Forks. It’s not often that someone recognizes us after so long, but it happens. It was just Mercy and me and Rami and Joe back then. And look how far we’ve come.” Gwil beamed warmly, then turned to Joe. “But really, son, you’re going to have to stop telling humans about us.”

“Hold up, I was not responsible for her!” Joe exclaimed, waving at me. “Take it up with Ben!”

The garage door rumbled open and Scarlett sauntered out, wiping her filthy hands with a rag. She halted abruptly, stood there in her high-waisted vintage jeans and black crop top and bare feet with maroon-colored toenails, tilted her head and pondered Archer with an innocent sort of curiosity that I hadn’t seen from her before.

“Wait,” Archer said, gaping. “Is that...is that an Aston Martin Vantage in there?!”

“You bet,” Scarlett replied. “You want to learn how to work on it?”

“Uh, hell to the yeah!” He trotted over and they vanished into the garage together.

“Huh,” Joe muttered, watching them. “She was nice to him. Very weird.” He whirled back to me. “Anyway, come on. I promised you an education in classic rock music. And I shall deliver.”

Joe’s bedroom was a chaotic jumble of economics textbooks and Chicago Cubs paraphernalia and U Chicago apparel and action figures and comic books and classic rock posters. There was a massive Italian flag tacked to the wall above his bed. But what caught my attention immediately was a life-sized cardboard cutout of Ben lurking in the corner by a bookshelf full of cassette tapes.

“How is there any possible logical explanation for that?” I asked, pointing.

“Oh, that! That was a joke. When Ben first showed up, he pretty much lived in his room and never came out. Gwil was worried. Mercy was heartbroken. So I made a cardboard cutout of him and would bring it to family activities and do this really deep and seductive Ben voice when I pretended to have conversations with him. It gave the whole situation some levity...and I think Ben secretly liked that we missed him enough to make an artificial version to fill the void.”

“So this bitchy, brooding, blood-craving Ben I met is actually a drastic improvement?”

“Oh, Baby Swan,” Joe confided, almost sadly. “You have no idea what he was like four years ago.”

“I’m glad he has you. All of you. That he has a chance to get better.”

“I think you might be good for him too. Seeing a human as a real person instead of a walking, talking Hi-C juice box. And you care about him, don’t you? Despite everything.”

“Of course. It’s not his fault they taught him to be a monster.”  

Joe just looked at me for a while, and then he cradled my face with one hand and grazed a thumb across my cheek “You’re never going to stop saying things that knock me into next week, are you?”

“Joe...” I hesitated, laying my hand over his. His skin was smooth and yielding yet strong, cool yet not unnaturally so. Refreshing. Safe. Fan-fucking-tastic. Oh noooooo. “Are we a thing?”

“Why? Do you want to be a thing?”

“Oh, uh, no, I was just wondering if we were.”

He stepped away, teasing me with a crooked smirk. “...So you don’t want to be a thing?”

“What would that entail?”

“Well...we’d be an official thing, you and me.” He shot finger guns at me, and then towards himself. “Which means you can’t be a thing with anyone else. And neither can I.”

“Ahhh, I see. So this thing is an exclusive thing.”

“Will you shut up and just admit that you’d totally be thrilled to be a thing with me?”

“Fine. Whatever. We’re a thing.”

“Nice.” He high-fived me.

“This is the most romantic moment of my life.”

“But wait, there’s more.” He went to the bookshelf, browsed through his cassette tape collection, found the one he wanted and popped it into a boombox that was probably older than I was. The frantic opening piano notes of I’d Do Anything For Love poured out.

“Meat Loaf,” I said in disbelief. “Really. This is the product of your superior taste in music. This is the culmination of over a century of musical experience. Meat Loaf.”

“The man is a genius!”

“This is all an elaborate joke about my vegetarianism, isn’t it?”

“No,” Joe mused. “But now that you mention it, I have yet another reason to force you to appreciate this song.” He took my hand in his, spun me around like a ballerina in a slow and careful circle, sang along—with extreme and dramatic enthusiasm—to the music.

“And I would do anything for love

I'd run right into hell and back

I would do anything for love

I'd never lie to you and that's a fact...”

“I don’t dance,” I cautioned him, laying a palm against his chest to catch my balance. That brisk, comforting scent of pine and snow and peppermint was everywhere. It feels like I can’t stand to be away from him. Like I’ll never get close enough. “I am terribly uncoordinated. I will step all over your feet. And I’m really not sure if I can trust you. You didn’t even know the plural form of octopus until like eighteen hours ago. You’re kind of a disaster. A, you know, uh, unexpectedly charming, unconventionally super cute, kind of bizarrely enchanting disaster.”

“Yeah,” Joe whispered, smiling, tilting up my chin, leaning in to kiss me. “I like you too.”

Cato

He came out of the oak trees like a ghost, pushing aside massive chandeliers of Spanish moss that blotted out the dusk sun, his expensive shoes sloshing in the marshy water that flooded the rice field. He was wearing a full suit, but no top hat; his hair was black and chin-length and wild around his face. And at first I thought he was a hallucination, a dream conjured by heat sickness or those first dreaded signs of malaria. He was unnervingly, uncommonly beautiful; beautiful like a hurricane, beautiful like lightning or an eclipse. But he was real. I straightened up as I watched him approach, my back aching in protest, a basket full of seedlings slung over my shoulder.

“Mr. Cato.”

His voice, clear and beckoning and twisted by an accent I’d never heard before, rang in my skull like church bells. He called me mister. This white man called me mister.

“Yes sir?” And I almost added: You want to be careful there, sir. The water moccasins like to hide among the tree roots, especially when the sun starts going down. But I had an inexplicable feeling that this man wasn’t afraid of things like snakes. Maybe the snakes should be afraid of him.

“Mr. Cato,” he said again, this time to himself, very quietly, tasting it.

I kept trying to look away, to disentangle my gaze from him like a hook out of a sturgeon’s mouth, because staring piercingly and astonished at a white man like that in the rice swamps of South Carolina in 1851 could get me beaten or the lash, could get my teeth pried right out of my jaw. But it didn’t seem to bother him. He grinned, hugely, all-knowingly, under prehistoric golden eyes like an alligator’s. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. And he was proud.

“Do you want to be free?” he asked, almost hissed, still grinning from the tree line.

What kind of question was that? Did a sandpiper want to fly? Did a coyote want dirt under its paws and flesh disappearing down its throat? But that wasn’t something you ever confessed aloud, not if you wanted your feet on the ground instead of swinging ten inches above it. But this man wasn’t a master, wasn’t an overseer. He wasn’t from the South. He didn’t carry a whip or a club to remind you of the rules of the world. He stood there tall and radiant in the shadows of the fading daylight like he was the one who wrote the rules to begin with; which meant that maybe he could change them. “Yes sir.”

“I can only take you,” the man warned. “No others. No family. No friends.”

“No trouble, sir,” I told him. “They sold my family. They hanged my friends.”

The man’s grin stretched wider under glinting eyes. His canine teeth were sharp, I realized: like a coyote’s, like a snake’s fangs. He held out his hand. “We are going to get along very well, you and I.”

I let the basket fall from my shoulder. I slogged through the mud and rows of wispy verdant rice plants to meet him in the shade of the oak trees. And there, for the first time in forever, a man with skin the color of bones looked me dead in the eye and shook my scarred hand.

“Welcome, Cato,” he whispered; and I was home.

He took my face in his cool palms, gingerly, reverently, like a lover. He touched his teeth to my throat. And every nerve ending in my body flooded with wildfire as he dragged me, screaming, into the depths of the forest.

[shakespeareanwannabe]

Best Laid Plans

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F!OC

Summary: A sequel to ‘Protective Instincts’. The last 7 and a half months have been a whirlwind, and part of Pope still can’t fathom the idea of being a father. But now that his kid is here? All bets are off. *Still based off of the wonderful headcanons by @darksideofclarke*

Warnings: Pregnancy fic (so, again, if you aren’t vibing with it, don’t read it), swearing, references to birth (it’s nothing graphic, just mentions of water breaking, contractions, and epidurals), references to breastfeeding

A/N: Hi everyone! I was blown away by the response to ‘Protective Instincts’, so I wrote a sequel that’s based off of part of one of clarke’s headcanons. This was so fun to write, and I’m really wanting to write more about Bex and Pope, and Pope and Frankie, and the baby, so I’m hoping you all enjoy this as much as you enjoyed the first one! If you want to be added to the tags, please let me know. I just used the tags list from ‘Protective Instincts’ for this one.

                                                    **********

Pope was a planner. Not as good as Tom, mind you, but he could plan an operation with the best of them. That was, after all, how he had convinced his closest friends to help him take down one of Colombia’s biggest and most dangerous narcos.

“Just look at my work on it.”

That was the phrase he used on all of them, but he had been banking on their loyalties as well. He had known going in that Benny would only need him. He had figured that a tiny twist of Catfish’s arm and Pope’s record of getting into deep shit when Frankie wasn’t around to stop him would be enough to encourage Catfish to join them. Will had needed Tom, Tom had needed Pope’s workup of the mission. Planning. Having a rough idea in your head of how people will react was a big part of planning an op and putting together a team.

Bex’s birth plan was viewed in the exact same light. He hadn’t been lying to her when he told her that whatever she wanted to do, they were going to do. If she had demanded that she give birth while standing on her head, Pope would have found a way to make that happen, doctors be damned. So, Pope made sure that her birth plan was as detailed as any highly classified military operation.

That document became like a Bible to Pope. He sat with Bex as she painstakingly went through every single option, checking off certain boxes and rolling her eyes at others.

“I swear to God, babe. If they try to show me the birth through a mirror, I might kick a nurse in the face,” she had laughed. Pope had laughed as well, knowing his sweet tempered girl would never do such a thing but also knowing that, when the time came, if someone tried to bring a mirror into the room when his girl hadn’t requested it, he would be raising hell on her behalf.

Of course, he knew that things never ran as smoothly as you planned. Colombia had been proof enough of that, but he held tight to the birth plan, taking comfort in the knowledge that, by knowing what it was Bex wanted, he would be able to do some small part in assisting her through her labor and delivery. Of course, he would stay in the room with her (just him and the medical staff, no friends or family would even know about the labor until at least 4 hours after the kid arrived) and let her squeeze his hand and yell at him if she needed to, but Pope was a man of action. He faced situations head on, guns blazing. This...this was one situation where he would be almost helpless, watching as his girl fought to bring their kid into the world.

The birth plan was his tether. Bex had outlined every single thing she wanted to happen before, during, and after the birth.

“Of course, if things go south, you tell them to fuck the plan and do whatever they need to do,” she had reiterated several times over the course of building and rebuilding their plan. And when Bex’s water broke at 1 p.m. that cold November afternoon, Pope knew within the span of her first contraction that he would indeed tell the medical staff to fuck the plan if there was even the slightest notion of something being wrong. He was not losing his girl or their baby due to his stubbornness in sticking to a plan.

Luckily, it went as smooth as it possibly could have gone. Nobody brought any mirrors into the room. She had been able to walk laps up and down the hallway to help herself along. Bex had caved around midnight and begged for an epidural, which Pope had been quick to sooth her about.

“Baby, you’ve been at this for almost 12 hours,” he had whispered into her sweaty hair, wiping a cool rag over her forehead as she squeezed his hand and tearfully whispered that she wanted the injection. “You’ve done everything you can naturally. The laps and the breathing and the exercises…Baby, I know Marines who would have given up and asked for pain meds hours ago,” he had laughed. “You’re fucking Wonder Woman, baby. I’m so proud of you.” He smiled and kissed her forehead as she gifted him with a tired but grateful smile. “Our kiddo is just being a little stubborn right now, okay?”

“T…takes after their daddy,” she chuckled breathily.

“God help us,” he laughed, pressing another kiss to her forehead as she winced, another contraction overtaking her body. Pope hit the Help button by her bed and waited for the nurse to come so they could inform her of the change in their plan.

Finally, at three o’clock in the morning, Liliana Esperanza Garcia was placed onto her mother’s chest with an angry cry. Pope stayed right by Rebecca’s side the entire time, having no interest in cutting the umbilical cord and the idea of catching his daughter as she was born was more than a little terrifying to the seasoned veteran, so he remained at his post at Bex’s bedside and cried alongside his two girls.

                                                      **********

Watching the sunrise through their hospital room window, Pope sat with his little girl pressed against his bare chest and thanked god that they had decided on a hospital that allowed fathers to do skin to skin contact with their kids while still at the hospital. He reveled in the feel of her tiny cheek pressed against his chest, right over his heart. The feel of her heartbeat hammering against his skin was addicting and soothing at the same time. He had never known peace like this.

Frankie had been right. Of course he had been, he nearly always was. Holding Lily in his arms somehow made up for Afghanistan, Iraq, Colombia, and every other fuck up in his life. This little thing in his arms that couldn’t function on her own, that wouldn’t be able to for a long time, had already done so much good. It would be months before she could even hold her own head up, but, somehow, she had managed to erase all the red in his ledger, simply by breathing.

Of course, her mother helped. Pope looked over at Bex, asleep in the hospital bed beside him. His warrior queen. She had given him this gift, put her body through unimaginable change and pain for their little family, and she had done it with a smile on her face (most of the time). He would never deserve her, but he was so damn glad that she somehow saw the best in him, that she chose him on a daily basis.

“Remember when I said we have to be good to Mamá?” he whispered, brushing his lips gently over Lily’s dark downy baby hair. “She worked so hard to bring you here. We’re always gonna owe her, mija.”

“Knock, knock,” a soft voice called from the sliding glass door of their private room. Pope looked up and smiled, laughing softly at the sight in front of him.

Benny was weighed down by what looked like seven or eight large stuffed animals, an “It’s a Girl” balloon flying over his head. Will stood next to him, a look of fond exasperation on his face as the balloon gently bonked him on the head, and a bouquet of white lilies in his hand. Frankie, the one who had knocked, was slightly in front of them both, a kind smile pulling at his lips as he took in the small family in front of him.

“Hey fellas,” he whispered, carefully pulling himself to his feet with one hand and nodding to them to come in, eyes never leaving his daughter. “This is Lily.”

“She’s beautiful, man,” Benny whispered, his eyes growing shiny.

“Congratulations, Pope,” Will echoed, gently clasping Pope’s shoulder.

“How’s Momma doing?” Frankie whispered, maneuvering himself to stand just over Pope’s right shoulder so he would have a good view of the sleeping baby girl.

“She’s a warrior, man,” Pope peered over his shoulder at his sleeping girlfriend, and every single one of the hardened soldiers could see the love and awe in their Lieutenant’s eyes. “Fuck, I don’t know how she did it.”

Frankie choked back a laugh. “You’re gonna want to watch that language now, Papá. Little ears and all that.”

“The swear jar will end up paying for her college tuition,” Benny jabbed, jostling with his armload when Will gave him a smack.

“Benny, you can put those on the table over there, man,” Pope told him. “Just be careful not to wake Bex.”

“Too late…” a soft warm voice announced, making Pope’s heart flutter.

“Hey baby,” he sighed happily, turning back and slowly walking over to sit on the edge of her bed. “How’d you sleep?”

“Not long enough,” she laughed as she held her arms out. Pope gently deposited their daughter in her mother’s safe embrace before shaking out his hands. He’d carried loads ten times her size, but something about the position made his wrists ache. “Hey princess,” she cooed, running a soft finger over their daughter’s chubby cheek. “How long was I out?”

“Just over an hour,” he smiled as he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead before moving to the recliner to put his shirt back on. “Look who’s here.”

“Hey guys,” she smiled tiredly at them. “Forgive me for not getting up to hug you but…” she shrugged as she nodded down at the baby in her arms.

“Congratulations, Momma,” Frankie smiled as he swooped in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Charlie figured you wouldn’t want to eat a crappy hospital breakfast, so…” he held up the cooler in his hands. “We made a little feast for you, if you’re up for it.”

Rebecca groaned. “Oh my god, tell me your waffles are in there.” At Frankie’s nod, she groaned again. “Ugh, I am so up for it, Frankie. Thank you! Just, uh…” she trailed off as she looked down at her hospital gown clad body. “I think I want to take a shower first if that’s okay?”

Pope swooped in to relieve her of Lily and Frankie helped her stand up.

“You need me? Or do you want me to call a nurse?” Pope asked.

“You stay here with Lily and the guys,” she decided. “I think I can handle it on my own but keep an ear out?” Pope nodded and she smiled as she kissed him on the cheek. “Will, could you pass me my—” Will already had her bag extended to her. She laughed. “Thanks.”

“Milady,” Benny extended an elbow to her and helped her shuffle across the floor to the ensuite bathroom.

She winked as she began to pull the door closed. “See you guys in an hour,” she joked.

“Take your time, baby,” Pope called, quickly adjusting to softly shush Lily as she whimpered.

“Can’t believe you’re a dad now, man,” Benny laughed as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Out of all of us, I never would’ve had you down as a family man. I mean, c’mon. The guy who slept with every informant he had now has a daughter? Karma’s gonna bite you on the ass, dude.”

Inwardly, Pope rolled his eyes. Sometimes it was easy to forget how much younger Benny was compared to the rest of them. He hadn’t been anxious to settle down when he was Ben’s age either, but now? He couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without waking up every morning next to Rebecca’s smiling face. And Lily? She was less than six hours hold, and she already had Santiago wrapped around her little finger.

“Things change, Benny,” Will calmly informed his little brother. “Now, what do you say we go get some drinks for everyone? See if we can scrounge up some actual coffee in this place?” Ben shrugged but nodded as Will approached the bathroom door and lightly tapped on it. “Hey Becca? We’re going to get something to drink. Do you want anything?”

“An orange juice would be great, thanks Will!” she called back before the sound of the shower turning on pervaded the room.

As Will guided Benny out of the room, he turned back and shot a wink at Pope, causing him to laugh. They all knew that Ben was a lot to handle, and Will had gotten good over the years at judging when one of his friends were about to pop his little brother one. For all the MMA training and fighting Benny did, he was kind of clueless when it came to the tempers of his friends.

Pope settled down on the edge of the mattress, unable to look away from Lily, even as Frankie sat down next to him.

“I just can’t stop looking at her, man,” he admitted softly.

“Take it all in, hermano,” Frankie grinned. “You’re gonna blink and she’s gonna be off to kindergarten.”

“Malo,” Pope muttered to him under his breath and Frankie laughed. He dragged his eyes away from his sleeping daughter to smile back at his best friend. “You want to hold her?”

Frankie blinked and raised a hand to scratch at the hair under his cap. “You sure?” he double-checked hesitantly.

Pope slowly and carefully placed the sleeping baby in Frankie’s arms. She snuffled for a brief moment before falling back asleep.

“Hola, corazon,” Frankie whispered, stroking a finger over her dark hair. Frankie looked up to meet Pope’s eyes, tears glimmering in both their eyes. “Shit Santi…” he breathed.

“I know…” The two men sat for a long moment in silence, Lily’s quiet breaths and the sound of the shower in the background washing over them. “I…I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, Frankie,” Pope started quietly.

“Huh?” Frankie didn’t take his eyes off the baby.

“When Mateo was born…I shoulda been here,” Pope scratched at the back of his neck.

Frankie shook his head at Pope. “Bro, stop. You were in Colombia doing what you had to do. And you’re here now.”

Pope sighed. “I don’t think I coulda done this without you, Frankie,” he whispered. “Shit, I might’ve just kept driving that night. I coulda missed all of this. I could’ve missed her.” Pope reached out a finger and slowly stroked Lily’s fist until she opened her hand and weakly grasped his finger.

“You would’ve come back, man. Don’t kid yourself. You don’t leave jobs unfinished,” Frankie said simply because, to him, it was simple. You didn’t follow a man into war zone after war zone without getting to know every facet of their personality. Santiago Garcia never left a man behind, and never left a job undone. It’s why he was Frankie’s best friend. There was so much loyalty, so much trust, between the two of them.

Pope laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ve got the kid, now I’ve just gotta get the girl.”

Frankie watched as Pope dug into his jacket pocket, draped over the side of the recliner, and pulled out a navy-blue plush box. Cracking it open, Pope tilted the box towards Frankie so he could see the square amethyst jewel sitting in a simple gold band.

Gently, Frankie unfolded one arm from underneath Lily and gave Pope a shove before quickly resuming his position.

“When?”

Pope shrugged. “I’ve had this stupid thing for months, man. But I didn’t want to give it to her then because I didn’t want her thinking it was just because she was pregnant. Part of me wants to give it to her now, but I don’t want her thinking it’s just because she just had my kid, you know?”

Frankie nodded sagely. “I get it.”

“Maybe in a couple of months?” Pope asked, looking between the engagement ring and his best friend.

“First date out without the kid could work,” Frankie agreed.

“Maybe Lily could spend some time with her godfather while her Mom and Dad go for dinner or something?” Frankie kept nodding. “Would you like that, Lily?” Pope murmured, leaning over his friend’s shoulder to speak to his little girl. “You want to spend some time with Tío Frankie?”

Frankie’s head shot up. “You mean…?” Pope chuckled, a smile pulling at his lips. “Dude, I was kidding about calling…You don’t have to…”

“Frankie…” Pope clasped his best friend’s shoulder. “There’s no one we trust more than you. Will you be Lily’s godfather?”

Pope watched as Frankie swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he stared down at the little girl in his arms as she began to fuss.

“Shh, corazon…” Frankie soothed, rocking her back and forth as he stood up to pace the room. “Tío Frankie has you.”

Santiago couldn’t help but smile. If someone had told him even five years ago that he would be at a hospital, just a few hours after his daughter was born, planning to propose to the mother of his child with the help of his best friend, retired Second Lieutenant Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales, who was now a married man with a son and another kid on the way, he would have asked what kind of crack they were snorting and to point him in the direction of their drug dealer.

Guys like them didn’t get the happy endings. They got the beginnings of the fairy tale, the girl and the glory of returning home after war, but after the ‘Happily Ever After’, they got the nightmares and the divorces and the dual mortgages and the child support. They ended up like Tom, so deep in the trenches that they cave in and bury you.

At least, that’s what Pope thought when he signed on for private sector work in Colombia. He wasn’t ready to give up the thrill of the chase, the ‘good work’ he was doing, to face the shitshow that would inevitably be waiting for him at home. When Colombia had ended up being the shitshow, and Yovanna had seen right through him and sent him packing, he thought that was it. The end of his rope, the end of the line.

Moving closer to Frankie had been a godsend. Pope would always credit him with having literally saved his life. Getting to watch how Frankie handled it all, seeing him interact with Charlie and Mateo, standing next to him at the simple courthouse wedding. Frankie was living proof that life went on even when he didn’t have the flag on his shoulder anymore. Proof that ‘Happily Ever After’ didn’t have to fall flat. And, if Pope hadn’t moved close to Frankie, Charlie never would have gotten him the physiotherapy consult at her clinic, and he never would have met Bex. He never would have learned that guys like them could have happy endings, so long as they fought for them with as much vim and vigor that they fought every other battle of their lives with.

“Hey Papá,” Frankie called with a laugh, pulling Pope from his thoughts. He turned to see Frankie holding Lily out to him carefully as she started to cry.

He hurried to cradle his daughter against his chest, quietly humming to her in a feeble attempt to get her to settle. “Shh, baby girl. You’re okay. Papá’s here.”

Bex appeared in the bathroom doorway, her skin dewy from the shower and her hair thrown up out of her face. “I think she might be hungry, babe,” she called over their daughter’s cries. She walked over to get herself settled on the bed, wincing every few steps until she could lie back on the thin mattress, adjusting it so she could sit up.

“I’ll give you three some privacy,” Frankie muttered, clasping Pope’s shoulder in one hand and running his finger over Lily’s clenched fist with the other. “I’ll go see what the Millers found to drink. We’ll be back in a few.”

Pope nodded distractedly as his friend smiled warmly at Bex and left the room, closing the door with a soft click. He gently transferred Lily into her mother’s arms before perching on the edge of the mattress by Bex’s hip. “You want me to call the nurse?”

Bex nodded as she watched Lily nuzzle at her chest. “Yeah, they said they would bring the specialist in the first couple of times to make sure I’m doing this right.”

Pope kissed her temple as she pulled down the side of her baggy T-shirt in preparation of feeding their daughter. “You’re gonna do great, baby,” he whispered into her hair. “Wonder Woman, remember?”

She smiled softly at him as he pressed the Help button. “I love you,” she murmured.

“I love you more,” he replied with a soft look on his face as the nurse entered. It was a playful argument they had on a nearly weekly basis, but this time, Pope knew he had won. Pope knew he would always win at loving her more because, without her, he wouldn’t have any of this. And that filled his heart to bursting.

                                                     **********

“She’s so beautiful, Santi…” Bex whispered as she lovingly stroked her finger up and down their sleeping daughter’s arm.

All the tests had been run. Pope was over the moon to receive the news that both mother and child were healthy and strong. The small group of warriors had gorged themselves on the Morales’ world class waffles, bacon, and fruit salad before Frankie, Benny and Will had dismissed themselves from the hospital, all three promising to come and visit the following week once the new family was more settled. A nurse had come by every few hours to help teach Bex how to breastfeed, and teach Santi how to change a diaper, and teach them both how to swaddle. All things they had practiced in their parenting classes, but Pope appreciated the reminders. Especially since, the second he laid eyes on his baby girl, all the lessons flew out of his brain. Finally, a doctor paid them a visit and told them they would be free to go at the start of visiting hours the next day.

That had been twelve hours ago. Presently, the small family was bathed in the glow of the setting sun that was filtering in from the master bedroom window. Lily was asleep on the bed in between her parents, who were lying on their sides while holding hands above her head.

“She takes after her mother,” he smiled at her, glad to see he could still make her blush just over a year into their relationship.

“I hope she gets your hair,” she whispered back as she released his hand and reached out to card a hand through his short, thick curls. “I love your hair,” she sighed as she clasped his hand again.

“You want her going grey before she’s 40?” he teased. Bex shot him a playful glare. “I hope she gets your eyes.”

“…I hope she’s happy,” Bex breathed, tears pooling in her eyes.

Pope reached out and cradled her cheek in his hand, softly swiping at the falling tears with his thumb. “She will be, baby. Love her hard, show up, give a shit, and let her find her own path, right?” Bex nodded at him but the tears kept streaming. “Hey…” He stood and picked Lily up, carefully transferring her into the bassinet they had put in their room, before sliding back into bed and pulling his teary girlfriend into his arms. She quietly cried into his shoulder as he ran a soothing hand up and down her back. “You okay?” he asked gently as she finally pulled away, the grey cotton of his shirt stained black.

“Sorry,” she murmured contritely as she wiped at her cheeks. “Stupid hormones.”

“You didn’t answer my question, querido,” he observed.

Rebecca tilted her head back on his shoulder to look in his eyes. She gently ran her thumb over the laugh lines that crinkled in the corners of his eyes and sighed softly. “I feel okay, honestly Santi. My hormones are kind of all over the place, and my body feels like I was hit by a truck, but it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

Santiago shifted them so he was lying with his head on his pillow and she had her head on his chest. “As someone who has seen a guy after he got hit by a truck, I’d say that sounds pretty bad.”

She shrugged gently. “I mean, I won’t be doing it again for at least a couple of years, and I know I got lucky because some of the stories I read…” she shuddered lightly before meeting his eyes again. “But I feel better than I thought I would. Does that make sense?”

He nodded as she yawned. “Makes perfect sense, baby. Why don’t you try to get some sleep while Lily is down? We need to be up in about two hours to feed her.”

Rebecca smiled at him as she slid onto her own pillow, still facing him. “You really want to get up and watch me feed our daughter?”

“Mi alma,” he sighed, pulling her in to plant a tender, loving kiss on her lips before pulling back, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’ll get up for as many feedings, changes, crying fits that I can. I don’t want to miss a second of this.”

A bright smile pulled at her lips as tears pooled in her eyes again. “Damnit, Santi…” she laughed as she wiped her face with the hem of her shirt.

He pulled as close as he could and tangled their legs together. “I won’t apologize,” he declared, a soft smile on his face. “I love you so damn much, Rebecca. Te amo…te adoro…te quiero…te necesito…” Pope brushed a kiss against her temple, her forehead, her nose, and finally her lips in between each phrase.

Her eyes started to droop as a content grin graced her features. “I love you too, Santiago. More than any word in any language could ever express.”

He watched and listened as her breathing evened out and she drifted off. He couldn’t shake the pride from flowing through his veins as he listened to his two girls breathe in the fading light. He was never supposed to have this, but he would fight tooth and nail for anyone who tried to take it away.

                                                        **********

Tags list: @darksideofclarke, @writefightandflightclub, @eternallyvenus, @rae-rae-patcha

[janeykath318]

Darcy and the Prince (Shieldshock)

“I’m going to be so happy when this is over and we can all get on with our lives,” grumbled Darcy, as she helped her friend into her very beautiful white wedding dress, fit for the princess Jane was about to become. Jane had met the Asgardian Prince Thor while visiting the country on a science quest (as Darcy referred to her research trips) and the two had, against all odds, fallen head over heels in love and became engaged a year later. Despite the meddlings, of Thor’s troublemaking brother Loki, they’d made it to the wedding day and Darcy was playing bridesmaid and generally trying to keep Jane from going full bridezilla. 

“Hmm, maybe you’ll be singing a different tune once you’ve met some of Thor’s friends,” Jane suggested, as she was buttoned up. “He knows a lot of attractive, single, people.”

Darcy rolled her eyes and grimaced as she worked on the last few buttons. 

“Ugh. NO, JANE. I do not need that drama in my life right now. I’m gonna finish my masters, then go globe-trotting and enjoy being single and free. Men are more trouble than they’re worth.”

“Sometimes I want to wring Ian’s neck for what he did to you,” Jane said vehemently. Darcy’s last boyfriend had turned out to be an utter cheating scum and she’d ended up with a broken heart, hence her general annoyance with men. 

“Thor and I got our revenge,” Darcy said, smiling at the memory. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to trust again. Don’t be sad, Janie. I’m super happy to have you and Thor and Eric as buddies. Now, let’s get finished so we can get you down that aisle!”

Before she knew it, Darcy was preceding Jane down the aisle and trying not to start bawling. She was a shameless wedding weeper and knew it would be even worse this time since it was her best friend getting married. 

As she blinked rapidly, she took a glance up front where a beaming Thor was standing, along with several other very striking, very well dressed men. She caught the eye of a gorgeous blonde decked out in full prince uniform and he smiled at her, which did funny things to her insides and it took all her self control to not stare at him through the whole ceremony. 

Of course, by the time the happy couple kissed and was announced as husband and wife, Darcy could barely see through her tears and just hoped she’d grabbed the right man’s arm to walk her back down the aisle. 

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled to her unknown escort. “I always weep an embarrassing amount at weddings and these dresses NEVER have pockets to stash tissues in.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” a very pleasant voice answered. “I admit, I shed some tears as well. Luckily, I always carry a back up handkerchief. Here.”

A soft cloth was pressed into her hand, and Darcy gratefully accepted it, finally managing to wipe the tears away. Vision cleared, she was able to see her helpful person and let out a gasp as she saw it was the gorgeous blonde princey dude. Up close, it was clear she’d grabbed the arm of Prince Steven, one of the most swooned over royalties to ever grace the papers. 

“Wow, thanks, your highness,” she said breathlessly. “I’m afraid this thing is ruined. It looks like my waterproof mascara is not actually waterproof.”

She held up the handkerchief, which was now smeared with black streaks. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Prince Steven said, pretty blue eyes crinkling in a smile. “Like I said, I’ve got extra.”

“You’re the best,” Darcy blurted, then turned red. “Ohmm….. I’m gonna go repair the damages before they start the pictures. Will you let Jane and Thor know where I’ve gone? It should only take a few minutes.”

“Sure,” the Prince said kindly. “And please, call me Steve.”

Darcy ventured to look back at him, and saw nothing but genuine friendliness in his kind eyes. She fell a bit in love right there.

“Nice to meet you…...Steve,” she managed, a tad shyly. “I’m Darcy, by the way.”

“Lewis?” he asked, recognition appearing in his expression.

“The very same,” she confirmed. “I take it Thor’s mentioned me?” 

“He sure has,” Steve answered. “He calls you his lightning sister and is frequently expounding on your wit, brains, and beauty. I’d have to agree with him. You are stunning.”

Darcy felt herself blush like a tomato. 

“You’re one to talk, Prince GQ,” she sassed, to cover up her internal freak out over his compliment. “Be right back!” 

With that she picked up her skirts and swished off to the restroom, leaving Steve looking after her with great amusement and interest. Darcy Lewis was a very strikingly lovely woman and the blue dress she was wearing greatly flattered her figure and emphasized her bright blue eyes. Thor had tried to set him up with her before, but Steve had stubbornly refused. Now that he’d met her, He thought he’d been an idiot. 

“Are you well, Darcy?” Thor inquired, when she had rejoined the others.

“Yeah. My mascara betrayed me and made me start looking like one of those goth rock stars,” she told him. “That’s the Last time I use THAT brand. Congratulations, by the way.”

She offered up hugs to the happy couple, before they were whisked away for pictures with the official royal photographer. 

Spotting Steve, she casually strolled over and watched a bit as he talked to a group of individuals, who must have been his friends, because he looked so much more relaxed and was laughing and smiling in a very jovial manner. He kept his public persona very buttoned up and stiff, so seeing him like this was utterly fascinating and Darcy was becoming more and more attracted every minute. She chatted with Bruce Banner for a little bit, then helped Jane manage her train in between shots. 

They were so cute together, it was almost sickening. Thor looked at Jane like she was his whole universe and Jane looked at Thor like he was the only man in existence. 

“I want to look at someone the way she looks at him,” Darcy murmured, half to herself, half to the blue and gold clad figure who had joined her. 

“Me too,” Steve agreed, sounding very wistful. 

“Shouldn’t be that hard for you, dude,” she pointed out. 

He chuckled ruefully, blushing a bit.

“I’ve discovered there’s a big difference between starstruck lust, and real love and I haven’t seemed to find the latter yet. Most of them aren’t interested in getting to know the real me at all.”

“That’s sad,” Darcy told him. “You seem like you’d be very interesting, once you get past the whole princely trappings and regal persona. Tell me, Steve, what makes you tick?”

Steve turned to look at her, and she felt like the blue eyes were piercing through her, searching for something. Whatever he saw, it must have eased his mind, because he took a deep breath and started talking.

“For one thing, I’m very passionate about using my position to do as much good as I can, not be just some stuffed shirt figurehead,” he told her. “I’m also very fond of the arts and am in the process of starting an art school for underprivileged kids. I’m hoping they’ll let me teach, because I love to draw and paint.”

“That’s awesome,” Darcy said warmly, giving him an approving nod.

“I also love dogs and help out at the shelters whenever I can.” He continued. “They’re so much more pleasant than dealing with parliament.” 

Darcy laughed at the distaste in his voice, but never got a chance to say anything else, because duty called. They shared a few looks across the room, and Steve shamelessly winked at her once when she pretended to strike a diva pose. 

They didn’t get close enough to actually talk again until the reception, when he sauntered up to Darcy as she was giggling at a ridiculous archery joke Clint had made. 

“Excuse me. Darcy, would you care for a dance?” He asked, holding out a white-gloved hand.

“Y-you’re asking me?” Darcy squeaked. 

“I don’t see any other Darcys around here, unless one of you has something to tell me,” Steve said dryly, squinting at Clint, Natasha, and Bruce, all of whom knew him. 

“Nope, not it,” Clint said, shaking his head.

“She’d love to,” Nastasha answered, giving Darcy a nudge forward.

“Yeah, I would, “ Darcy managed, taking the offered hand nervously.  Steve’s hand closed around hers and she felt a tingle up her spine.

She was in a dreamy daze as the prince expertly guided her around the floor. It was clear his princely education had included good dance technique and he was absolutely courtly about it. 

“Now, Darcy, it’s your turn to tell me what makes YOU tick,” he said after a few minutes of silently gazing at her. 

“Well, I live fueled by coffee and sarcasm, I majored in political science, and I’m not afraid to use my taser on creeps and jerks,” she told him proudly. “Also, I may have a thing for tall blonde princes.”

“Is that so?” He asked, a dangerously flirty tone in his voice.

“Yup,” she admitted. “Which is a little inconvenient seeing as how I’ve sworn off men.”

“That is too bad,” Steve agreed. “Any chance of possibly changing your mind?” 

“I’ll certainly let you try,” she told him, struggling to keep her mind from its fantasies about his magnificent broad shoulders and muscular arms. 

“Good,” Steve said, with another one of his stunning smiles. (If he kept doing that, there was no way she would be able to hold out long.)

“You look like you’re already planning your persuasive tactics,” she told him.

“Well, they don’t call me The Prince With A Plan for nothing,” Steve said, twirling Darcy around dramatically. Yeah, she was in SO much trouble.