#`⠀ *⠀ ┈ ⠀maybe i’ve always been more comfortable in chaos .⠀⠀/⠀⠀inbox .

[chvoswxtch]

Hi Court!! I saw your requests were open and I SPRINTED here :) I love your Frank fics and I wanted to switch to angst, because I’m a mean woman sometimes. I watched that movie called southpaw with the death scene and I thought that it’d be amazing with frank. Like he is in love with a very cute woman but in secret, she’s a friend and doesn’t know that frank is pining for her, but one of his enemies find him while they’re hanging out together and they start a fight and a stray bullet hits her. This is the scene (maybe it inspires you and also the acting is brilliant): https://youtu.be/bPL13UXFGr8 (minute 3:30)

nonnie...

nonnie nonnie nonnie nonnie. I am also a mean woman sometimes (so thank you for making me feel seen) and when I tell you this movie was an emotional trainwreck for me...like there wasn't a single second of it that didn't hurt. I switched it up just a little in a way that made more sense for me (I hope that's okay) and absolutely wrecked myself in the process. 🙃 I don't even know if I should tell you to enjoy or not...but...happy crying??

psa: this one is rough. if y'all thought violets was bad...this one might not be for you. this is all angst. all pain. no comfort whatsoever. if you are on the more sensitive side & need to skip this one, you will not hurt my feelings! my inbox is open if you wanna yell at me, or if you need tissues or hugs. I am profusely apologizing in advance (pls don't hate me for this one).

warning: swearing, mentions of blood & violence, death, mentions of gun violence word count: 1.7k

let that go.

He should’ve walked away. He should’ve just fucking walked away. You’d asked him to, begged him to, but he hadn’t listened. Instead he was reckless, and let that violent storm of chaos that always lingered in his bones take over, clouding his vision and dulling his vigilance with blinding shades of rage. They were just words, they didn’t mean anything. They certainly weren’t worth losing you over. But how could he just stand by while that asshole talked about you like that? 

C’mon, baby. You ain’t been with a real man before. He can’t take care of you like I can. 

You can’t handle a woman like that, bro. She’s way too damn fine for you. How about we play for her?

He was just another drunk shithead talking out of his ass, looking for a fight. You had grabbed onto Frank’s arm the second he had started mouthing off, giving him a soft smile as you shook your head slowly and squeezed his wrist.

He’s just trying to get a rise out of you, Frankie. Don’t listen to him. 

C’mon, Castle. You promised me a night with no fighting.

You had told him to leave it alone. To focus on you, and continue telling the story about how he and Curtis had snuck into Billy’s bunk one night and shaved off his eyebrows. Why didn’t he finish the fucking story? Why didn’t he leave when you asked him to?

You know what, let’s just go. I’ve got drinks at my place, we can order a pizza or something. Come on, let’s just go.

Let’s just go.

Let’s just go.

He was so close. Your hand was so soft as you held his, guiding him towards the exit of the dive bar you two hung out in all the time. The door was right there. Less than ten feet away, just a few more steps, and you two would’ve been out of there. Frank would be on your couch, right now, cold beer in hand, admiring you as you spoke like he always did. Laughing along with whatever joke you were telling. Smiling as he enjoyed how animated your hands were as you painted him a picture of whatever story you were telling. Maybe tonight would’ve been the night he finally worked up the courage to tell you he loved you. Maybe he would’ve kissed you. Maybe you would’ve kissed him.

What’s up man, I gotta fuck your bitch to get your attention?

The butterflies that had filled his stomach from the way your hand fit perfectly in his were immediately incinerated with rage as those words hit his ears. He abruptly stopped, dropping his hand from yours as he turned around swiftly to face the man, jaw setting in a hard line at the way he and his buddies were laughing.

Oh shit, there he is. That got his attention. What’s up, man?

Frank barely registered the feeling of your palms futilely pushing at his chest, trying to force him closer to the door as you pleaded with him. He only tore his eyes down to yours when you grabbed onto the back of his neck, cradling his face in your other palm as you stared up at him with an expression of pure concern.

Frankie, please. Let that go. Please, keep walking. Come on, come home with me. Don’t listen to him. Just let that go.

Let that go.

Let that go.

He should’ve listened to you. He should’ve just done what you asked. He should’ve fucking listened.

Don’t worry, bro. I’ll film it for you. That way you have a little tutorial on how to treat a piece of pussy like th-

Your voice sounded miles away in the back of Frank’s head as he charged forward like a vengeful bull, seeing nothing but red as his fist cracked across the man’s jaw, sending a rain cloud of blood from his mouth onto the floor. It all happened so fast. Frank’s fury completely took over, and anyone that dared to deter his merciless path of revenge was treated with the same unrelenting violence that surged through his fists. He could barely hear you screaming in the background, begging him to stop, pleading cries of his name leaving your lips.

But he couldn’t stop.

That bloodthirsty thing inside of him he thought was gone had only been lying dormant all this time, waiting for that first taste of crimson to reignite its craving, and now it wanted its pound of flesh. Everything passed by in a blur, and Frank had lost track of who exactly he was fighting at this point, but it didn’t even matter. His inner demons weren’t prejudiced about where their offerings came from.

Bang.

The entire bar went silent the second a gunshot rang through the small space, and everyone immediately dropped to the floor. An ear splitting scream cut through the eerie stillness, and the sound seemed to snap Frank out of the haze of wrath he had been stuck in.

Frank?

Frank had never heard your voice sound so small. He instantly whipped his head in your direction, seeming to sober up as he took in the twisted up look of pain and confusion on your face. 

Hey. Hey, sweetheart? What is it? What’s wrong?

I…I don’t…I don’t know…

Frank was over to you in two short strides, cradling your face in his large bloodied hands as he searched your face with furrowed brows. 

What happened?

Something…something happened…

As he glanced down to scan your body, he noticed the way your hand clutched at your side. Fear suddenly sent an icy chill down his spine seeing the hints of deep red that started to seep through your fingers. Tugging your wrist away gently, Frank’s entire body went rigid seeing the maroon stain on your shirt that was beginning to spread like a wine stain on white carpet. 

Am I…am I okay? Am I okay?

Fuck…fuck you’re alright, sweetheart. You’re alright. I got you, yeah? I got you, just hang on. 

A loud cry of pain pierced through your chest when Frank pressed his palm firmly against your side to apply pressure, wrapping you up in his arms as he glanced around frantically for help.

I know…I know, baby, I’m sorry. I gotta stop the bleedin’, okay? I know it hurts, just stay with me, alright? Fuck…someone call a fuckin’ ambulance now!

You gripped onto the collar of Frank’s shirt like a lifeline, staring up at him with wide panicked eyes as you started to hyperventilate. 

Here, let me lay you back-

No…no no no no, I don’t wanna lay down. I don’t wanna lay down!

Okay…okay, you don’t have to. You don’t have to, baby. I got you…I got you sweetheart, it’s alright. It’s gonna be alright.

Tears formed in the corners of Frank’s eyes hearing the fear in your voice. He held you as tightly to his chest as he could, keeping pressure on the wound. The bartender knelt beside him and handed him a rag for the blood, informing him an ambulance was on the way. 

Frank…Frank…

Yeah? Yeah, what is it baby? 

I wanna go home, Frank. I wanna go home-

Okay, okay baby. We’ll go home. We’ll go home, I promise. Yeah? 

I wanna go home. I wanna go home, Frank. Please…I wanna go home. I wanna-

Frank hugged you tightly to his chest when you started to cry, nodding quickly as his frantic eyes quickly scanned over your body. His bottom lip trembled as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, reaching a shaky hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Just stay with me, sweetheart. It’s not that bad, yeah? 

Lot…lot of blood…it’s a lot of blood-

It’s not that bad, sweetheart. Just stay with me. Hey…hey c’mon, look at me. Look at me in my eyes, baby. C’mon, look at me honey.

Frank felt panic start to rise even higher in his chest as you coughed, blood spluttering out of your mouth and staining your lips and teeth a bright cherry red. Shaking his head quickly, Frank cradled your face and distraughtly tried to wipe it off of your lips.

Oh baby…fuck, baby baby baby-no, no no no, c’mon. Here-

It’s okay…it’s okay, Frankie…it’s…it’s okay-

It’s just a little blood, sweetheart. S’alright, it’s not that bad.

Frank leaned into your touch as your shaky hand cradled his face, staring down at you with glassy eyes as his lips trembled with regret. He shook his head slowly, mumbling endless apologies as your mouth pulled into the faintest of smiles, tears turning the lingering traces of blood on your face into transparent shades of pink.

I love you, Frank.

Pressing his forehead against yours, Frank let out a choked sob as he cradled the back of your head, tasting the familiar metallic tang of blood as he gently captured your lips in a soft kiss.

I love you, baby. I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, baby. I love you. I love you. I love you.

I can…I can go home…we can go home…

We’re gonna go home, I promise. We’re gonna go home real soon. It’s just a little blood, that’s all. Just a little, yeah?

Full blown panic set in when your hand slowly dropped from Frank’s face, and your grip on his collar loosened into nothing. There wasn’t anymore fear in your eyes as your lids became heavy, and your chest didn’t shake as it struggled to take in oxygen. Frank pulled you fully into his lap, holding your head against his chest as he kept a light grip on your face, searching your face fervently with denial.

No no no…no no no wait wait wait wait. Baby…c’mon, look at me. Look at me in my eyes. C’mon sweetheart, let me see those pretty eyes. No no no no, please…please baby…stay…stay stay stay…c’mon baby stay…baby wait please…no no no…

Frank squeezed his eyes shut as he buried his face into your neck, hugging onto your lifeless body as tightly as he could. A howl of pain ripped through his chest as he sobbed, rocking you back and forth in his arms, repeatedly pouring apologies into your ear.

He should’ve listened. 

He could’ve been holding you in his arms, saying hello to a new life with you.

But instead he was holding you in his arms, saying goodbye as you took your last breath.

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042

[oliversaluki]

Write your RPer Resolutions for 2024! (What are some goals for yourself as a writer? Improve descriptions? Plot with more members? Etc.)

One of my goals is being more consistent, I have this habit of being all on and then falling off the earth and repeat. I’d like to get into a better routine which I think will really help my plotting and my character’s relationships.

I also want to get better at popping into people’s inboxes with a basic idea of hey! I’d like to do this. I’ve been plotting a lot more around the end of 2023 so I think I’ve got a really good base to lean on.

Write at least one resolution, or “goal,” that you have as an RPer for your character(s)

Ollie: Plan a wedding! But also as a character who’s rounding out his story to give him his little ending

Elliot: I want more toddler things. Penny is one now, she’s gonna be getting into some things and I want to do things for that.

Edric: I want him to just keep being his pranking self. I like his light heartedness and how he’s always around drama without being it himself. So I’m quite happy with him while i make moves on some others

Dolores: I’ve been wanting to do this tutor plot where she teaches classes for different languages at the community center but I’ve never done it so maybe work on that.

Flynn: Date Holley. Omg. Please. He needs to get over himself.

Jenny: I need to find her a direction, she’s going throw the motions, she follows the wind but it makes her anxiety worse so I gotta figure that out.

King: Find out his past! Become someone who can use his powers. I got a high level demon because I want to play a high level demon.

James: I think I wanna address some of his commitment issues, I’d also want to play around more with what it means to be a fairy with a disability so more Hollow things.

Aurora: I want her to calm down, she’s out there experiencing life and is always on either extreme so I’m looking to get her to a happy medium

Randall: Make some friends, he’s coasting but I really need to figure out a friend group for him.

Vidia: So this is a bit of a spoiler though a few muns already know. But I want to kick off a big plot for Vidia, which is already plotted out but putting it into gear is gonna be a challenge I’m excited for.

Write at least one resolution IN CHARACTER for your characters. What do THEY want to accomplish or change in the New Year?

Ollie: Plan a Wedding, find a new house & move!

Elliot: Be a good dad and not let his family keep slipping because lots of things feel like they are changing and not always for the good.

Edric: … Date someone? He won’t admit it but I think he wants it.

Dolores: Happily date her boyfriend, learn Korean and maybe tutor some more.

Flynn: Explore what it means to be {redacted} figure out the mystery of the necklace from his mom.

Jenny: Get a handle on her anxiety. It’s holding her back and then she freaks out more so she doesn’t like that.

King: Learn more about his past! Find his parents!

James: Honestly, James just wants to vibe, he doesn’t think he needs to change.

Aurora: Experience life!!!! Don’t stop moving.

Randall: Try to meet someone, get out there more and put himself out of his comfort zone.

Vidia: Keep being better than everyone.

List one or more characters you have never interacted with that you would like to do so

Lusia - I have yet to interact with my cousin so I need to get on that

Dipper - You know I probably have but it’s been so long. Add the fact demon stuff and King I think that could be fun.

Haru - I think her and Lo should hang. Whatever chaos that brings or awkwardness or not?

Hera - Again I probably have but it’s been awhile and I wanna do more with sorcerers always

Moon - Randall and her are in dinner club!! I need to do something with this.

Clarion - I’ve yet to do anything with my Queen so that’s much needed

Remy - Remyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, this will soon change but I want to befriend the french gentleman.

Talk a bit about your plotting style – what plots are you most drawn to? Do you prefer to come with a fully-formed idea and plot off that, or throw stuff at the wall and see what sticks?

I like to throw things at the wall and see what sticks. I tend to go with the flow which means a lot of my plotting in the past as been reliant on others but I’m trying to venture out more and not only throw things at the wall but then figuring out what I need and throwing it at people and hoping that sticks.

I also tho falter trying to keep up because I’ve been getting over my head with the amount of plots which means some drag (looking at Flynn who I should have had something done in November for) but I’m working on the balance, who can vibe while others are intense.

Talk a bit about character relationships – what relationships are you most drawn to? How do you prefer to approach shipping (if at all!)? What, specifically, are you looking for right now for your character relationships? 

I love found family. I love having a best friend for my characters. It’s so important to me to have those relationships where my characters are loyal to a fault. I really do enjoy ships and romance but I’m so chemistry based I feel like I’ve been missing the short term ones that I am trying to get better with now. I’m looking to try out more plotted short terms ones and whatever happens after that happens there.

Plotting Exercise! Pick one of the resolutions/goals in #3 and plan a rough guideline to how you could accomplish it.

EXAMPLE OF A MOCK PLOT:

FLYNN with approaches a SORCERER to look into the necklace after HOLLEY does research on it

FLYNN and the SORCERER determine there is a magic underlying the necklace

FLYNN & HOLLEY go on an adventure to unlock the secrets of the necklace heading back to the States

Secrets are revealed that bring in the RAS or any other HUNTERS/ THE MAFIA into play as the magic in it is dangerous.

FLYNN takes a step up to protect the magic and potentially hands it over to the RAS

[teddy06writes]

A Thousand Little Moments (That Help Me Heal)

Requested by @alphamoonlunala9391 "Can you do more parts of What Could Have Been Was Good, But What We Have Now Is Better please and maybe make the character a god hybrid reader"

and sort of @noctis-yeye

This is the Part three of You Didn't Need Us Then, We Don't Need You Now and What Could Have Been Was Good, But What We Have Now Is Better

Quackity x reader; Past mentioned Sapnap x karl x quackity x reader

trigger warnings: some swearing, existentialism? kind of? (Charlie being like, 'everything turns to dust so whats the point')

premise: it's like i said in the part two, its just gonna be a bunch of little scenes that happen in the two year gap, plus the wedding that would then happen at the end of part two for the last scene (no I don't really know how proper weddings go, all the ones i've been too were ~weird~ soooo...)

{to the asker who actually went in my inbox to request, I can't make reader a hybrid because its too late in the series to really change it}

{snowchester las nevadas conflict- we don't know her}

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

"(y/n) from Las Nevadas?"

You glanced up from your work to find Charlie at your office door, "Yeah Charlie?"

"This place 'ill be around a while right? No- no explosions like L'manburg?" He slid into the room and dropped into one of the chairs in front of your desk.

You frowned, "How do you know about L'manburg?"

"I told you- I move slow, but I've seen a lot. L'manburg was nice- but then it was gone."

You sighed, "I know... I was there- all three times. L'manburg was my home before Las Nevadas."

"If you and Quackity from Las Nevadas want me to stay here- which it sounds like you do, I want to know: Las Nevadas will be around for a while, right? I don't want it to go to dust like everything else does."

"As much as we can help it Charlie," You glanced down at your desk, "I'm not gonna let another home get destroyed."

~~

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you made it to the top of the needle.

Purpled was still sitting near the edge of the deck where he'd stayed after you'd finished the tour. It seemed the only difference now, was that behind him the sky was dark, and speckled with stars.

"You got room for company kid?" You asked quietly.

He nodded, and you quickly moved to sit next to him, "So what do you think of the place?"

"'s alright." He mumbled.

"Charlie wasn't enough to scare you off?" You chuckled.

He shook his head, "Nah... Where did you find that guy?"

"Sneakin around one of the restaurants." You laughed.

"He's insane."

"Yeah no, probably." You sighed.

Purpled got quiet again, turning to look back out over the city, "Why'd you offer me a spot here? You said it wasn't a job, so why actually offer it to me?"

You frowned, thinking for a moment, "I guess- ever since L'manburg- I don't want to see anyone else suffering on this server, especially not any more of you kids. You deserve to have a place, and people looking out for you Purpled."

"You keep saying that- but why here? How come you two are the only ones that say that?" He snapped.

Shifting to lean against the railing, you sighed again, "Did you hear about Kinoko Kingdom, when it was founded?"

"Yeah. Karl, Sapnap and George did that, didn't they?"

You nodded, "You know we were supposed to marry Sap and Karl once, Quackity and I."

"Really?" He scoffed.

"Really. Cause we'd been dating, and they'd been dating, and then Karl started hitting on Quackity, and in retaliation Sapnap was hitting on me- anyway, it felt perfect and shit right?"

"Mhhhm."

"Well then one day, right before doomsday, Karl up and disappears, and of course we're worried, but there's a war on. So once its all over, Q was devastated, cause everything he built in El Rapids was gone. He'd always wanted to just make a place for us. He disappeared too.

"Sapnap and I split up to look for them, and planned to meet up here. But- they never turned up. One day we come to find out, they went and started there own place-" You stopped, clearing your throat, and shaking your head, "They abandoned us. I don't want anyone else getting abandoned. This server tried to abandon you Purp, but I'm not gonna let them."

When you looked back over at him, there was a small smile on his face, "...Thank you..."

~~

"(y/n)! Guess who showed up today!"

You chuckled as you looked up to find Quackity leading Fundy toward where you sat at one of the tables under the needle with Charlie, "Fundy! It's so good to see you!"

"Hey (y/n)!" He smiled.

"Hello Fundy From L'manburg!" Charlie greeted excitedly.

Fundy's smile seemed to droop, "How did you know that...?"

"He knows a lot more than most people think," You said apologetically, "Anyway, how have you been?"

"Pretty alright, pretty alright." He nodded, sitting down at one of the open seats as Quackity plopped down next to you.

"That's good. It's good to see you're doing better!"

He nodded, "How have things been going over here?"

"Pretty good," Quackity grinned, "It'll be great to have another official partner on property. So far the only big one we've got living here is Purpled."

"You got Purpled to come here? Wow." Fundy chuckled.

You smiled, "Yeah, I think he's starting construction on a new UFO soon. You got any big plans for being here?"

"I'm not sure yet- but I'll figure it out," He smiled, "I've got a feeling that this place will be better than L'manburg ever could have been."

~~ "Babe, I made breakfast!"

You yawned, slowly sitting up at Quackity's call, "What kind of breakfast?"

"Pancakes!"

"And Purpled From Las Nevadas taught me to make the orange juice!" Charlie exclaimed from the kitchen.

You chuckled, getting up and tugging down the sleeves of one of Quackity's long since stolen hoodies.

Out in the kitchen, Charlie was setting a pitcher of orange juice on the table as Purpled set out plates, and Fundy dug around in a cabinet looking for syrup.

You moved over to where Quackity was flipping the last of the pancakes, wrapping your arms around his waist, "Good morning."

"Good morning babe." He chuckled.

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, ignoring the overly exaggerated gaging noise Purpled made, "Keep it to yourself!"

"Keep what to myself Purpled from UFO?" Charlie asked.

"Not you idiot!" You could hear the eye roll in his voice.

Fundy laughed, sitting up and banging his head on the cabinet.

You smiled into Quackity's back, listening to the half chaos behind you happily.

~~ "Hey Ranboo!" You greeted cheerfully as he entered the office, "What brings you here?"

"Hi (y/n), I just wanted to ask you something."

"Mhhm." You nodded as he sat down.

"Well it's Tubbo and Tommy, I'm trying to help them with all the L'manburg Schlatt, Wilbur, stuff-" He broke off with a sigh, "I just don't know what I'm doing. They need help but- I don't even know how to deal with my own issues."

You frowned, "Is it nightmares? About the festival?- or Tommy's exile?"

"Yeah... how did you guess that?"

"I know a thing or two about nightmares," You sighed, "they don't really go away like that. You aren't doing anything wrong by not knowing what to do."

Ranboo stared down at his hands, "I just feel like I should be helping them more."

"You know what helped everyone around here? Creating a home- having a place or people, that helped Fundy and Purpled, and kind of Charlie? I still don't know his deal- Anyway! just be there for them, hell, bring them here, we'll all be here for you guys."

He looked up suddenly, "Why would you guys be- why would you offer us that? We're not in your allegiance."

"I know. But I don't think any of you kids deserve what this server gives you. Bring them here or not, you all have a place here if you want it." You assured him.

"Really?"

"Of course."

~~ "AYYYY Big Q!"

Tommy's yell cut through the semi loud sounds of the crowded apartment.

"Tommy! You came!" Quackity exclaimed, "Hey Tubbo! Hey Ranboo! And is that Michael?"

The piglin squealed, running past him into the apartment, toward Purpled's dog.

He laughed, "Well, come in guys, Fundy's getting the movie thing ready, and Purp and Charlie are getting snacks and things."

Ranboo followed Tommy and Tubbo into the room as Charlie came from the kitchen, carrying the bowel of chips Purpled had told him to bring out, "Hey! It's Tubbo Underscore Beloved From Snowchester! And Ranboo Beloved Underscore From {redacted}! And Tomathy Careful Danger Kraken Innit from L'manburg!"

Purpled, who'd stopped in the kitchen doorway, "Did he just make a bleeped out fucking noise with his mouth?"

"Yeah- yeah no he did." Fundy confirmed.

"Your middle name is Kraken?" You asked, shuffling out with a stack of blankets.

Tommy nodded, "Yup."

You laughed, "That's- kind of ridiculous, why would Philza saddle you with that?"

"Well 'es not my dad is 'e?" Tommy scoffed.

"Wait seriously?" Quackity asked.

Tubbo laughed, "You really thought...?"

You shook your head, "Whatever... Fundy what's the status on that movie?"

"I'm almost done." He reported.

"Right, everyone get comfortable then." You said, dropping the pile of blankets you had been carrying.

Quackity plopped down onto the couch, pulling you to sit with him as Tubbo and Ranboo began to make a nest of blankets between the arm chair where Purpled sat and the couch.

Charlie passed around snacks and Fundy finished setting up the projector as the move began.

~~ You sighed, turning and pressing your face into Quackity's shoulder, "Thank you."

It had been a week since Karl and Sapnap had left Las Nevadas, and your fiancé had insisted that you take time off of managing things.

"For what baby?" He asked softly.

"Everything. I love you."

"I love you too." He murmured.

You smiled softly, looking up at him, "How long until that wedding?"

~~ "You ready?" Charlie asked.

You turned to him, looking up from the paper on which you'd written your vows, "Yeah... I think so."

He grinned, "Let's go then!"

You nodded as he looped his arm through yours and you started toward the doorway.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of Las Nevadas!" He announced, "Here we go!"

You chuckled as you started down the isle with him, grinning at Quackity, who stood, looking already close to tears.

Purpled, Fundy, Sam, Tubbo, Tommy and Michael stood in various places around the alter, Foolish glancing down at the book he held open.

As you reached the alter, he started, "Dear people, we are gathered here today to witness the sort of? holy matrimony of (y/n) (y/l/n) and Alex Quackity. If anyone here has any objections to this union speak now, or hold your peace."

There was a silence, Michaels tiny snort being the only sound before Foolish continued, "This journey, which you have started together, will continue on now, as you walk, side by side, step by step, together, now joined in such a way that you can't really get rid of each other without a divorce."

Laughs and chuckles filled the wedding hall as Quackity shook his head, "Nope, you're stuck with me babe."

You laughed, "Good."

"Now, would you recite your vows?"

You pulled the paper from your pocket, "I'm going first. So, ever since we started seeing each other, we thought it would be you and me forever. Even after everything we went through, and even after Sapnap and Karl, its still you and me. I would say that its just you and me, but," You looked around at everyone,

"It's not just you and me, it's you and me and these guys. When we started this place, I knew that it would be difficult, especially with all the hurt that the SMP caused us. But, even as I was helping everyone here heal, you were helping me. Because you helped me find this family, and you- you gave me a thousand little moments that made me feel again.

A thousand moments that helped me heal."

[its-deputy-caleb]

Micah Bell - Partners in Crime and in Love Pt.1

YES i know there’s 58 requests sitting in my inbox for re8 HOWEVER red dead is my comfort game and i needed to write this verbal mess down. I’ve been thinking of writing a micah fic for weeks now and i finally did it bc as much as i love re8 red dead is my fav and always will be. this is so self indulgent i swear.

for anyone that actually reads this the reader is pretty gn but does lean towards fem this time and i’ll be doing a part 2 for sure bc i love the rat man.

part 2 is now here

—————————————————————

Today was finally the day. The day for the big bank job that Dutch insisted was the right move for the gang. This was despite numerous doubts from Hosea and various other camp members that robbing a bank in broad daylight in the state’s largest city was a risk the gang couldn’t afford to make right now.

The whole morning there had been a sour feeling in your gut, a tiny voice shouting in the back of your mind that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t like you to get nervous on a job, in fact you recently robbed the Valentine bank with Bill on his job. Originally you weren’t interested in going, happy to let Karen go on her own with the guys but Bill insisted you go as you were one of the best gunslingers the gang had.

Robbing and killing came naturally to you and being outlawed in six states had never bothered you during your time as an outlaw. That’s why it was almost impossible for you to ignore the sick feeling in your stomach that was slowly building.

Making your way over to Micah, you see him sitting on a wooden crate cleaning his guns for the inevitable shootout that comes with bank jobs. Taking a seat next to him, Micah doesn’t need to ask you how you are; he can practically see how restless and agitated you look.

That’s the thing about your relationship with Micah, you understood each other (especially in public) and didn’t need grand public displays of affection to know exactly what the other needed in that moment.

The camp mostly stayed clear of your relationship, I mean you were probably two of the camp’s biggest troublemakers and risk takers when it came to planning jobs and robbing folk. Both of you had a shot quicker than lightening and could practically shoot your way out of any situation you found yourselves in. But regardless of how ruthless anyone thought you two were, you always had each other’s backs and wouldn’t stop to think about saving the other.

One night after a successful train job Dutch decided to hold a camp celebration. It was a mostly quiet night for you, having not decided to party with your companions despite Sean, Charles and Javier all offering for you to join in. Instead you decided to spend the mostly quiet night with Micah sharing a bottle of whiskey and splitting your share of the earnings. After each job you always had a bet with Micah over who could shoot the highest number of lawman. It was a bet the two of you had with each other just to cause more mischief and it always brought a smile to your face when Micah would lose and sulk about it for the rest of the afternoon

At one point during the night Bill strolled over to you while Micah went to get another bottle of whiskey. He was nice and polite despite the smell of beer coming from his breath, maybe even a little flirtatious and all was well until he asked the question ‘Why is you with a rat like him when you could be with someone as charming as me?’. Bill ended up with a face full of dirt and a broken nose, not to mention a killer hangover.

So yeah, the gang tended to leave you and Micah alone…

Micah’s knee lightly brushing against your own brings your thoughts back to reality. He’s stopped cleaning his guns and is looking at you with soft eyes and a gentle smile, the one that’s only reserved for you.

Despite being a hardened outlaw that has known nothing but chaos and the open road for most of your life. The gang has observed from afar your softer sides, whether it be the time you both fell asleep next to each other by the campfire or getting shit scared when the other has been shot and the rest of the night is spent with soft kisses and bandage wrapping.

Micah holsters his revolver and gently takes your hand in his.

“Sweetheart we’re gonna be fine, ain’t nothing gonna go wrong, now common let’s go get dressed for such a special occasion.”

~

Everyone is just starting to get into their fancy attire for the job when you and Micah are already packing your saddles and getting ready. You’re wearing matching white suits with a red shirt only yours is tailored to show off your figure a lot more and your plunge top and corset doesn’t leave much to the imagination but hey, if you’re gonna go out it’s gonna be in style.

As Micah finishes tightening up Baylock’s saddle you lean forward and hold his wrist in your hand. Your thumb gently brushes the soft skin there, trying to hide the nerves that have been slowly eating away at you all day.

“I don’t like this Micah, somethings gonna go wrong I can feel it…”

Micah’s never been great with emotions but you’ve known him long enough to know how he comforts you. The arm that’s caught in your grasp turns and brings you forward into a hug, his chin resting on your head as you hold him tightly against you.

“Ain’t nothin gonna happen to us, just think of it as another bank job.”

You nod and hold him closer, a rare event for such a public place where anyone could walk by but neither of you really cared at that moment. You press your face into his shoulder, trying to shake off your uneasiness.

“You better not die on me now Bell, you still owe me that new holster for beating you in five finger fillet.”

~

Fuck did the bank job go wrong. Horribly wrong. From the moment you got off your horses and stepped foot in that bank it all turned to hell.

Bullets where flying everywhere, there were civilians screaming in terror trying not to get caught in the crossfire, glass was being shattered by dynamite and Dutch was trying to formulate a plan while in shock of losing his dear Hosea.

A bullet whizzed past your head and you took out another Pinkerton. It was chaos. Every time you managed to bring down the line of Pinkertons another carriage full of them would arrive with the Saint Denis Police.

You couldn’t see Micah anywhere, but each time you tried to look for him your attention was dragged back to the action in front of you and the numerous Pinkertons shooting at you.

Arthur had snuck onto the roof at some point and some of the other members where making their way towards the rooftop as well. You were about to make a bolt towards Dutch and Javier on the ladder when Charles stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Go that way, we’re the diversion! Karen and Sadie are a waiting near the alleyway of the tavern, we’ll meet you back at camp in a few hours, GO!”

Charles pushes you down the alley way and climbs up the ladder to catch up to the others. You would’ve protested but your body is running on adrenaline so you didn’t think as you snuck your way out of safety.

~

Micah was furious that Charles had sent you off on your own to find your way back, if it wasn’t for the fact that the five of them where hiding from the law in a rundown city apartment he probably would have argued with him for hours.

But deep down he knew it was the right thing to do. He knew that you’d be 100 times safer away from this chaos then if you were here with him, even if you could handle yourself.

For hours they sat in that little room, Dutch formulating a plan on how to get out of here while Micah tried not to worry about whether you made it home safe. Now he understood that sick feeling of worry in your stomach, he only ever got it when he worried about you.

By nightfall Dutch had somewhat of a plan to escape via the docks, sneak out onto a ship that would take them somewhere and it hit Micah in that moment that it would be some time before he saw you again…

The guards where everywhere, the entire city on high alert after the bank and Charles ended up running so everyone could make it onto a boat. As Dutch attempted to negotiate with the captain for a cabin, Micah lit a cigarette from his blazer pocket, trying to take his first deep breath of the night.

“We were fools for thinking we could pull off the bank…”

Arthur rests against the crates, fatigue clear in his eyes but willing himself to stay awake. Micah however didn’t want to sit and talk about what could have happened and what actually did, he had a headache already and certainly didn’t need a lecture from Arthur for another reckless decision he helped create.

“Whatever you say Morgan.”

Sighing defeatedly, Micah flicks his cigarette bud over the side and into the water below, making his way to go sit on the other side of the crates where he can think.

~

Back at camp you pace around the halls of Shady Belle, the floorboards creaking under the weight of your boots.

“Fuck this I’m going to find them-“

Before you make it out the front door however Miss Grimshaw blocks your exits.

“You’re not going anywhere anytime soon. The Pinkertons are everywhere looking for us. Now I know you want your precious Mr. Bell back but you’re just going to have to wait out the next few hours until he returns with the rest.”

You decide to ignore the slight condescending tone of Susan as you see a rider approaching into camp. Your hand is on your holster, everyone who’s left joining you to crowd around the man slowly coming closer. Everyone is relieved to see its Charles, but only slightly. He’s alone and a horrible feeling of fear washes over you.

“Charles… Where is everyone… Where’s Micah?”

[orbitariums]

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐩 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟏𝟓)

part 14

hey y’all!! missed yall again ♡ hope y’all luvvv this chapter <3

also, thinking of making a new taglist for this soooo just reply to this post or send me an inbox if u wanna stay on this current taglist & lmk if u aren’t on it and want to be added!!

playlist

word count: 7.7k

warnings: age gap, smut

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧: 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐩 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

        You practically ran up to the edge of the cliff, only slowing down partially because Steve was yelling at you from behind. You couldn’t help it though, you were obsessed with the scenery already, and being able to see it from this point of view was probably the best part of hiking for you every time. You hadn’t gone for a while, not since you’d been home in Cali, and Steve surprised you this morning by telling you to get into some comfortable clothes you could easily move in. Half your wardrobe was that since you were always outside, so the request was easy to fill. You honestly hadn’t even been expecting it when Steve drove all the way to this beautiful woodsy hiking location upstate. 

      It was quiet, and there weren’t many other hikers on the trail, so it felt like you were alone together. You talked amongst yourselves, the low chatter of your voices complimenting the sounds of various birds flitting by and the crunch of the dirt and grass beneath your sneakers. 

       You walked at a slow pace, taking it all in. Your time with Steve was coming to a close, and you found yourself wanting to take more and more time to remember each and every single moment as clearly as you could. In your mind, you documented the warm, comforting breeze of the ever present summer on your skin, the low, rich timbre of Steve’s voice. You noted each and every bird sound you heard, promising to come back someday and bird watch at this very same location. Most of all, you made sure to sink into the warmth of Steve’s body bristling against yours every once in a while when you got closer on a narrow part of the path. You were committed to being in the moment and being mindful. 

      “Slow down, slow down!” Steve called from behind, and you just glanced at him over your shoulder with a well intentioned laugh, then looked back at the sky ahead of you.

You raised your hands up in the air, stretching your palms up to the sky and hooted, cheering about nothing in particular. Every smile, every laugh, every moment you tilted your face up to the vast, azur blue sky and let the sun beam down on your face, was genuine and triumphant. 

     “It’s fucking beautiful out here, Steve!” you exclaimed, puffing your chest out like you were trying to enclose the crisp, balmy air in your heart. 

You were practically hysterical. You belonged in spaces like these, outside where you could share your thoughts with the trees or the water, or not think at all. You always felt your best when you were at the beach or on a hiking trail with your friends, finally able to let go of life’s vice grip on you. You were so much happier these days, in a constant state of healing, and the results were truly showing out. 

      “I’m glad you like it,” Steve chuckled at your excitement, kicking at the dirt beneath his feet. 

      “Come on, babe,” you beckoned him over, wanting him to bask in this moment with you. 

He trudged over, and when he was close enough to reach out to, you lugged him over as much as you could. Although he was like a stone, his eyes still widened with worry when you nearly toppled over carelessly, despite the fact that you were on the ledge of a cliff. 

      “Slow down, doll, you’re gonna kill us both,” Steve huffed out a dry laugh, still smiling all the while. 

You smiled smugly, glancing over at him with big doll eyes,

      “You’d save me, though, I know you can.”

Steve just pulled you under his armpit, keeping you close. In the odd chance that you did fall in this moment, you’d probably be smiling all the way down, forgetting the agony that would be sure to come, all because you were with him. Maybe it was just the fresh air making you a little delusional, but you’d let yourself be delusional just for a moment. 

      “Let’s make sure no saving will be necessary, hmm?” Steve hummed, and you grinned, nuzzling your face up into his neck. 

      “Fair enough,” you sighed with a restless smile. “Seriously, thank you for taking me out here. It’s beautiful.”

Beautiful was an understatement. It was funny, you spent so much time outside but you couldn’t ever describe how much nature touched you. You didn’t have the words to describe the way the lush trees at the bottom seemed to sway with the wind, or the way the animals swooped from treetops and went along their merry ways, all while cohabitating peacefully, or the way the landscape looked from all the way up here. 

        Steve just pulled you closer, and you stood there in complete silence and stillness for a while, just watching as the sky drifted above you. Steve was glad you were the happiest he’d seen you, it seemed as though even though your days together were coming to a close, you were growing happier by the minute. You didn’t think your goodbye would be teary-eyed, because after this wonderful experience, you knew you’d both be sure to see each other again. You weren’t at all in the same place in your lives, that was for sure. You were just getting out of college and making a real life for yourself, meanwhile Steve was out saving the world and doing things you could only dream of doing. You weren’t comparing the two, but it was simply the truth. Neither of you were in the same place, but being here together now made you feel more united than ever. If it took a while to come to a place where you could always be together, then so be it. Right now, you’d just enjoy this moment while it lasted, without haste to plan for the future, because you both had full faith that things would work out. 

      “It’s funny, this is my first time going hiking. Like, on purpose. I’ve trekked through Sokovia and I’ve had to find my way out of multiple jungles and mazes before they blew up, but I’ve never just enjoyed it like this. On purpose,” Steve said after a while, and you grinned up at him, pleased that you were giving him more and more options to expand his personal hobbies and live outside of his work. 

      “I get the feeling that even though you’ve seen everything… there’s a lot you haven’t seen,” you noted, and Steve nodded. 

That was exactly what he was trying to say. He’d done more than most people could ever dream of doing, he’d escaped danger in the nick of time a thousand times over, he’d saved lives, and yet, all the while, he hadn’t really lived himself. He learned a lot from his job and from the team he felt so grateful to be around on a regular basis, but amidst all the chaos of his daily routine, he’d forgotten to live. Sure, he had movie nights with his team and sometimes went out to eat with them, but there was so much more than that. So much that he hadn’t seen yet. You were showing him that there was, and he was showing you that there was space to trust and love. You shared a mutual core, full of life lessons and valuable exchanges. 

     “Yeah. Exactly that.”

You squeezed his hip as you started to turn around, facing away from the edge of the cliff and back to the trail, which you were almost finished hiking. 

     “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat.”

| | | 

Steve was leaning against the arch of the open bathroom door, his head cocked in intrigue and admiration as he watched you do your makeup. You were finishing up, putting clear lip gloss on over the brown lip liner you’d used, a classic, 90s combo. You were gazing into the mirror, hardly acknowledging his presence for the purpose of perfecting your look, meanwhile, Steve was enthralled by you, despite the silence. You were also wearing a wine-colored minidress that clung to every inch and curve of your body, accentuating your best assets, which didn’t help with Steve’s staring problem at the moment. 

You had your elbows resting on either side of the sink and you were leaning in, smoothing your lips together and puckering them the very minute you finished, adjusting your position in front of the mirror to get a better look at yourself. Finally, you paid Steve some attention, and glanced over at him.

      “You ready?” you asked nonchalantly. 

      “The question is, are you?” Steve asked, raising his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes playfully in response.

      “You should be used to this by now, you know,” you sang, and Steve grinned, wrapping an arm around your bare shoulders as you came close. 

      “I know, I know. I kind of live for it, it’s so fun watching you do your makeup.”

      “Want me to try doing yours someday?” you quipped excitedly.

      “I’m not against it,” Steve chuckled.

Tonight you were going to a fancy restaurant for dinner, like, fancy fancy. The kind of fancy that even Steve wasn’t accustomed to. Steve had money, but he wasn’t a very sophisticated guy, he preferred to be more casual. You on the other hand, would probably fit right in. Your regal energy and poised way of carrying yourself made it that much easier. But, you were still fresh out of college, and you weren’t a rich girl by any means. So of course you got excited when you got to get all dolled up to do something very nice. 

You and Steve sat at a table near the back, the restaurant lighting dim and dark, a candle flickering between the two of you as the sun set outside. You toyed with the rim of your wine glass, taking careful sips so you didn’t mess your lip gloss up. To Steve’s lament, you would only let him kiss you on the cheek, because you didn’t want to ruin your finely crafted lip gloss. 

As nice as it all was, both you and Steve couldn’t help but be reminded of the fact that you’d be leaving soon, and that your days together were coming to a close. You were both levelheaded enough not to get too sad about the fact, but it was admittedly bittersweet. But you decided you’d at least make light of it, and smiled smugly at Steve,

      “What are you gonna do when I’m gone, lover boy?”

Steve glanced up at you, that charming smile teasing his lips as his blue eyes gazed into yours. 

      “Miss you.”

You tilted your head to the side as if you were challenging him,

     “You gonna call me every night?”

     “Whenever possible,” Steve replied warmly, and you continued,

     “Gonna send me flowers still?”

     “Of course,” Steve affirmed. 

You giggled to yourself, thinking of your last question,

     “Are you gonna watch my cam show?”

Steve laughed, shaking his head,

     “Who would I be if I didn’t support my girl?”

You grinned fully, reaching over to squeeze Steve’s cheek, 

     “You’re so precious.”

     “Uh,” Steve cleared his throat. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”

     “Yeah?” you furrowed your brows, interested in what he had to say. 

He seemed nervous, wringing his hands together slightly before placing them on his lap and under the table so you wouldn’t worry about him. He had been thinking about this for a while now, and he’d already talked to you about it, but even after the discussion you had, he’d still been grappling with whether or not he should go through with this. He didn’t want it to feel like he was moving too fast or putting undue pressure on you, because he knew how important it was for you to live in the moment. Because of you he found himself questioning a lot of what he thought was true or moral. You had a good head screwed on your shoulders and you were still much more relaxed than Steve, not as focused on tradition or expectations. But he still found himself wanting to settle things down officially with you. 

     Looking into your caring eyes, he knew he wasn’t making a mistake, that despite all the trials and tribulations of your relationship together in the past, he’d regret it if he never got to know you. He could’ve never imagined being in this position, but by the look in your eyes, which were glittering and shining with pure, contagious joy whenever you saw him, he knew this wasn’t something he wanted to miss out on. He was about to forget himself and sink into how beautiful you were, as if he didn’t have other things at hand, but he remembered himself at the perfect time. 

     “I-I’m not always so great with words, so bear with me,” Steve started. 

     “Steve,” you giggled cheerily. “Spit it out babe, it’s okay.”

Your reassurance seemed to resurrect him and he chuckled, shaking his head and rubbing his temples. Then he looked up again, taking your hand and gazing into your eyes, never ceasing eye contact. 

     “YN. I really like you, alright? And this is something so new and so odd for the both of us. I mean, I don’t know anyone who’s had what we have and I know a lot of weird people - not that this is weird, but-”

You chuckled, scoffing,

     “Well it’s definitely not normal.”

You reached across the table, squeezing Steve’s hand. He grinned, chuckling back and nodded, continuing,

     “Yeah. Definitely. And, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. About labels and what we talked about, and I know you’re not looking to rush into anything too soon because of how you’ve been treated in the past but…” here, Steve almost got emotional, thinking of how special you were to him, unable to believe that you’d been treated so poorly in the past— all he wanted was to show you just how you made him feel. “But I just want to treat you right, and make you happy because well, you make me happy. And it’s… it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way. And I’m sure that for you and me both, these feelings are rare. And I can treat you the same regardless of whether or not we put a label on it, but, selfishly I want you, fully… all to myself. So, let’s make it official. Will you be my girlfriend, YN?”

     Few moments felt as good as this one, and you’d remember this moment for years to come. Few questions rung so pleasant to your ears. And when you heard those words leave Steve’s lips, you knew you had never been more certain that you wanted to be with someone. All relationships started out in the honeymoon phase, but when it came to Steve, you didn’t feel like things would change drastically after this phase. And sure, you were just meeting, in real life, that is. In reality, you had known Steve for a few months, and you’d been getting closer for a long time now. So, you probably would’ve said yes to Steve even if he asked you on the second day you were together. 

     But your respect for Steve rose way up because he’d actually taken his time, had a conversation with you about it, and made up his mind. The fact that he had put all this thought into it was a testament to Steve’s character, which made you giggle because despite his stoic demeanor he was kind of a nervous wreck, and the strength of the connection you had. But you didn’t even have time to think about how wonderful this all was. All you knew was that you wanted to say yes. 

      “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend,” you bit down on your lip, just barely restraining a cheeky smile before you leaned in and kissed him again. The kiss was sweet, interrupted by laughter and your smiles against each others’ lips. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.”

You kissed him again and again, you kissed him so much that you barely had any lip gloss on when you managed to stop yourself to catch breath. When you pulled away, Steve had this kind of awestruck look on his face, his lips wet with your lip gloss, wanting more of your lips like you hadn’t just given him your all.

You snickered at the sight of his glossy lips, almost arrogantly noting, 

     “It’s a good look on you. My lip gloss.”

Steve grinned sheepishly, looking down at the table, relieved. He didn’t really have any reason to be worried, that was just in his nature. His heart had never felt so warm, he’d never felt so satisfied. You’d always been his, but now he had you, truly and officially. 

      “Were you nervous to ask me this?” you asked, still holding his hand from across the table.

Steve breathed out a laugh,

      “God, yeah. I was just hoping you wouldn’t feel pressured. I know how important your mental health journey has been for you, I didn’t want to make it feel like we have to put a label on anything before you’re ready—”

     “Steve, if I weren’t ready to be your girlfriend, I probably would’ve stayed my ass at home in Cali,” you chortled, making him blush, because he sort of knew he was overthinking it. “But really though, I wouldn’t be upset even if you didn’t ask me. What we have sort of obliterates the whole boyfriend and girlfriend niche, yeah? It’s kinda like… next level, don’t you think? I mean, how many people can say they’re in our situation? Like, this exact situation. This is like, long distance relationships made epic.”

     “Good point,” Steve nodded, agreeing— what you had was probably eons more powerful than the typical “boyfriend and girlfriend” situation.

     “It’s just, kind of a plus, you know?” you cocked your head to the side, shrugging. A mischievous, contagious smile spread to your lips. “I get to call myself Captain America’s girlfriend. Bitches write fanfiction about that.”

What? How could anyone blame you for getting cocky about who your official boyfriend was? You didn’t care for competition, but you’d selfishly admit that it was an ego booster to know that you had a man like him all to yourself, and that he wanted you all for him. 

     “You think you’re the lucky one, look at me. I got you,” Steve’s eyes slowly scanned your face, meeting your eyes again with a wistful smile.

     “My girlfriend, YN,” he said out loud. He just wanted to try it out, and it sounded so right to the both of you. 

     “I like that,” you cooed.

     “Me too,” Steve kissed your nose. “Oh, I almost forgot.”

He dug out a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to you, watching you unravel it. 

     “Just a little something I drew, meant to give it to you as part of this whole ‘making it official’ ordeal,” he put quotes in the air. “A little gift.”

     “Steve,” you pouted. “You’re way too nice to me.”

     “Well, you’re my girl. I can’t be mean, can I?” Steve’s lip quirked up in a quizzical smile.

     “Mm-mm,” you shook your head. “Not unless I tell you to.”

Steve couldn’t even decipher what you meant by that fast enough because you had squealed, your mouth flinging to your hand. 

     “Steve, Steve, holy shit. Is this what I think it is?” you sat up, alert, facing him. 

     “Just a little sketch, it’s not the best but I can—”

     “Steve, shut up! You’re literally fuckin’ amazing, are you kidding me? This is… amazing.”

What it was was a drawing. Not just of anything, but of a logo he’d created for you. Specifically, what would soon be the logo for your online clothing brand. It had only just kicked off the ground and you were hopeful for its future. So Steve drawing something like this, no matter how average he thought it was or how little time it took him was something so heartfelt to you. This was something you’d hold on to even more than the flowers, even more than the hotel rooms and private jets, even more than the fancy five star restaurant dinners. 

Because if there was anything Steve was proving to you time and time again, it was that he was the right one for you. You wanted to be with someone who would encourage your dreams, give you that push, and acknowledge that you had your own life outside of your relationship. And even though it was something minor at the forefront, when you really got down to it it was something so personal.

     “Ahh, I haven’t really drawn for real in quite some time, I just wanted you to have that. You can use it, for your clothing brand if you want,” Steve shrugged, all bashful like usual. 

     “If I want? I’m literally gonna flaunt this everywhere. Hello, my boyfriend made it? No one will know, but I will, and that’s what matters.” You leaned in, kissing his lips and folding the paper again so you could put it in your pocket. “Thank you, baby. For… literally everything. Thank you.”

     “Thank you.”

     “Steve, take the thanks. You deserve it. Thank you.”

Steve grinned lazily,

      “You’re welcome.”

You just gazed at him, your eyes inadvertently glazing over with tears. You were really sitting in front of the man of your dreams, and this time around you had no doubts about it. The old you would’ve been so resistant to love again. Steve made loving again so easy for you. And you couldn’t forget how you’d pushed yourself to love yourself again, because that made things like this a whole lot easier. But, rather than turn this into another mushy moment, your feelings were so overwhelming that you were feeling things everywhere. Everywhere. And who were you to prohibit your primal needs?

You stood up suddenly, brushing your hands against your dress, which once again caught Steve’s attention as you stood up. His eyes were already raking over you by the time you approached him on his side of the table, outstretching a hand to him, saying nothing until he took it and stood up beside you. 

      “Come on,” was all you uttered, glancing back at him only once as you led him further to the back of the restaurant, casually navigating your way to the restroom, unconcerned with anything in the moment that didn’t have to do with him. 

      “Where are we—” you swung the restroom door open and dragged him inside, locking it with finesse, “going…”

      Without responding, you furiously pressed your lips against Steve’s, pushing up against him and getting him hard in an instant. Your palms smushed into his cheeks and you moaned into his mouth, delirious with the need for him. Steve was shocked, but not at all against it, he had just never seen you act so impulsively before. And the same could be said for him— once you put your soft lips against his, all common sense seemed to dissipate from his mind. He was just as into it, his hands grazing all around your body like he was looking for something and you were the only way he could find it, squeezing every part of you he could squeeze through this dress. He rocked his hips into you, grunting into your lips as he felt his cock throb against the fabric separating the two of you. 

He pulled away, panting, his forehead creased in concentration as he cursed under his breath.

      “Fuck. Turn around baby,” he spun you around so you were facing the mirror and your body was up against the sink before you even had the chance to move yourself. 

      You gasped when you felt cool air against your ass before you even expected it, and you moaned instinctively. Steve left love marks on your ass, gentle and kind, before he made his way to your pussy, on his knees and standing behind you leaned your body against the bathroom sink. You were lucky this was a fancy bathroom that neither of you minded getting down and dirty in— the mirrors had golden frames and the counter was sparkling clean, made out of marble just like the floor which Steve was kneeling on. He inched his face closer to your center and licked a fat strip up your pussy, causing you to moan out carelessly. 

He focused on tasting you, closing his eyes and truly enjoying the moment. All that could be heard aside from the movement outside of the restroom were your moans and the sound of his tongue fucking deep into your wet pussy, slick, filthy noises coming from your heat. 

     “You taste so good, baby,” he moaned against your pussy, his words sending a shock through your body, making you squeeze around his tongue. 

You were panting now, your moans short and high pitched, glancing back at him every now and then, then back at your fucked out face in the mirror. You arched your back when he hit a certain spot, twirling his tongue around inside you and kneading your ass with his hands. 

     “Oh,” you cried out, reaching out behind you and grabbing tufts of his hair, pushing his head and face deeper into your pussy and keeping it there with a strong hold. Steve’s moans were muffled, he was overwhelmed by your sweet scent and the way you were forcing his face down. He only pulled away when he felt your pussy start to pulsate around his tongue, leaving you to whine in dissatisfaction while he stood directly behind you, pressing himself against your ass. 

      “Steve,” you complained, pouting at him.

      “I know, I know. I just— I have to fuck you, is that okay, doll? Can I fuck you?” he practically cooed into your ear from behind, lips tickling against the nape of your neck, then sneaking around to press chaste kisses on your cheek. 

You bit down on your lip and nodded vigorously, humming in approval,

       “Mm hm.”

       “Good girl,” he praised you, making you throb around nothing while he pulled his pants down, his dick springing out of his boxers, and steadied himself at your entrance, kissing all against your neck in the process and leaving love bites that made you yelp out. He grinned against you, whispering in your ear as he trailed his hand along the front of your dress, tugging down so your boobs nearly fell out of the dress.

      “You look so pretty tonight, baby. Look at you,” Steve nodded at the mirror in front of you and you whined, trying to buck your hips back into him because you just wanted him inside of you. “Fucking hell. Wearing that dress… your makeup looks perfect.”

He cupped your face, admiring it from behind in the mirror for a second, then he continued, 

      “My girl.”

He finally slid into you, his cock already throbbing inside of you. You cried out and gasped at the feeling of being stretched out just the way you liked, by the only man you wanted.

     “Fuck, Steve!” you moaned his name loudly, immediately starting to rock your ass back into his hips, feeling him all the way inside of you, spreading you out each time you took him completely. 

You grabbed at his arm from behind you, his hands steadying on your waist and pushing your ass back down onto him so you could take him all the way each time. You panted, feeling like you were being seared open by his thick cock in the best way imaginable. When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you took notice of how fucked out you looked, the force of Steve’s thrusts making your body bump against the sink, your mouth was open in an o-shape, your vision blurred because of how often your eyes kept rolling back into your head. Steve was focused on his cock disappearing in and out of you, his eyes on your ass, bringing down a broad hand to your ass and grasping your flesh in his hands. 

       “Steve,” you gasped, looking back at him. You took some time to catch your breath, Steve glancing up at you momentarily. “R-remember when I said you can’t be mean unless I tell you to?”

      “Yeah,” he nodded, his hand coming up to stroke the small of your back, just wanting to feel your smooth skin. 

      “Be mean to me, baby,” you pleaded, giving him those eyes that set him off every time. 

That was all it took for Steve to start slamming into you shamelessly, wrecking your pussy each time he pounded into you. He grasped onto your arms suddenly, holding them behind your back with one hand while the other lay to rest just above your ass. You cried out at the painful, pleasing sensation of Steve absolutely pounding you, and he chuckled deviously,

     “Shh, doll. Wouldn’t want anyone to hear you screaming for me. Or would you?”

Pursing your lips forcefully to keep from making any noise, you shook your head strongly, but you couldn’t help the whimper that escaped from the back of your throat when he hit your g-spot. Steve shook his head, looking up at himself in the mirror, 

      “Mm-mm, wouldn’t want that.”

Trying desperately to keep quiet, you strained your neck to try and look back at him and what he was doing. But he shook his head, leaning down to grab your face and force your head the other way.

      “Don’t look at me,” he commanded, his voice dark and deep. “Look at yourself.”

You looked up, orgasmic tears forming in your eyes as you did so, catching sight of yourself in the mirror getting fucked to the heavens, arms stretched behind your back, breasts bouncing each time Steve fucked into you. The look on Steve’s face was beyond you— he was almost sneering at the sight of the two of you in the mirror, the smug look on his face intensifying each time you had to stifle a moan or stop yourself from screaming his name. You’d never seen him like this before, and you were so glad you’d pulled it out of him in the little amount of time you had left together. 

      “Fuck,” Steve groaned when you felt you squeeze around him, his voice becoming breathier and lower, almost accusatory of your pleasure, “you like this, don’t you?”

You whimpered in response, nodding your head violently, and Steve grunted, slamming his hips up into you and bringing a hand down to play with your clit as if praising your response. His own voice became more and more unhinged, his thrusts growing sloppier and less focused, his eyes zeroing in on your expression in the mirror, 

       “You love getting fucked like this, don’t you? Wh-where anyone could hear… f-fuck, doll, I can feel you squeezing my fu… fucking cock. Come for me, YN.”

That was all it took, an ear splitting moan falling from your lips as you practically convulsed, coming on Steve’s cock, not bothering to stop rocking your hips back. Soon after you came, Steve’s dirty talk became nothing more than unintelligible blabbering, and he came hard inside of you. Breathing deeply, he slid lazily in and out of you just a few more times, fucking all his cum back into you. He pulled out, and you fell against the sink with a sigh. You both cleaned up, and Steve smiled at you before you both left the restroom.

       “Thank you,” you said stupidly, still delirious from how hard he’d fucked you.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head playfully and putting an arm around you to stabilize you, 

        “No problem. Come on, let’s pay and get you home.”

That night, you slept better than ever, your boyfriend Steve holding you in his arms. 

| | |

     Once you woke up the next day, Steve decided to take you to this nice brunch place, flipping on his hat and glasses since it was a little crowded, but not anything too worrisome. Besides, you had made it this far without Steve being recognized, and you realized that in New York, nobody was really paying attention to anyone. 

       Last night had been fantastic, in so many ways. You and Steve had made it far enough to actually become official, to call each other boyfriend and girlfriend. And although you knew the distance between you would be hard to deal with at times, you knew Steve would find a way to make it work. He never had you second guessing or doubting important decisions, because you knew that out of anyone you’d ever been romantically involved with, he had his shit together the most. He was actually focused on treating you well, and he had all the resources and the common sense to do just that. So, the distance didn’t quite scare you, in fact, it was probably less of an issue for you two than other long distance couples. Hell, you’d made it far enough without actually meeting. 

       As per usual, Steve opened your car door, then held your hand all the way inside the restaurant. You’d eat and then go home and find some random hobby to do with each other, like board games or finally finishing the Harry Potter movies, or just staying in and cuddling the whole night. You got seated at a table in the back and talked about nothing in particular while you waited for the waiter to come around. 

    You had your hand on top of Steve’s, squeezing it absentmindedly while you scrolled through your phone, reading text messages from your friends back at home. You knew Steve wasn’t a huge fan of your phone, but it wasn’t a habit that you pulled it out while you were meant to be hanging out together. Besides, you had a whole digital life that you had to keep up with for your own sake, consisting of your cam career and your online shop. It’d be silly if you tried to disconnect completely. 

      “Hi, good to see you today, my name is Richard, I’ll be serving you today! Can I get you guys started with some drinks?” Richard asked, cupping his hands together with an expectant smile. 

    “Waters for the both of us,” Steve nodded, and you added on, glancing at the waiter quickly. 

    “Lemonade for me too, please,” you added on. 

    “Awesome, I’ll be right…” Richard the waiter trailed off and you both glanced up at him, but he had paused, staring at Steve, his face contorted in slight confusion. Steve offered him a small, almost pitying smile, and you couldn’t help but huff, humored. Richard cocked his head and tapped his pen against his notepad before shaking his head slightly, snapping out of it. “Sorry, it’s just… you look so familiar.”

You and Steve exchanged a glance, both of your eyes whipping to meet each other, before you broke away and looked back at Richard. You were both slightly unnerved by the comment. In a way, it was so nonchalant, a casual remark. But Steve wasn’t just any other guy who you’d say that to. Chances were, this guy was about to recognize just who Steve was. You almost wanted to cover for him, but you feared that doing that would make things too obvious. You’d let Steve handle this, although you could see the hint of nerves in the smile that appeared on his face as he shrugged quite convincingly,

    “I couldn’t tell you why, honestly.”

Richard chuckled, huffing,

    “It’s just, I swear I’ve seen you before, are you like— have you come here before?”

Steve just laughed, but you could sense his discomfort, and you squeezed his hand a little harder,

    “Sometimes. You might’ve seen me.”

Richard nodded with a decided hum, then shrugged,

    “Yeah, that’s probably it.”

Steve’s shoulders visibly slumped in relief, and you smiled quietly.

    “Well, I’ll be right back with those drinks,” Richard, turning around.

Once he was completely out of sight, Steve sighed heavily, leaning in to you at the table. 

    “I think we should go,” was all he said, and you frowned slightly,

    “We just got here…”

    “I know, but that guy… listen, we haven’t paid for anything. Let’s just go. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I just don’t think—”

    “Okay,” you cut him off, smiling calmly. 

    Things were going so well, you didn’t want Steve to feel like you wouldn’t listen to him when it was important. You also didn’t want him to worry too much. You could see that he was trying to refrain from sounding as nervous as he was because he didn’t want to upset you, so, out of respect, you decided you wouldn’t push him any further. This was the first time either of you had to worry that someone had noticed Steve, and although it could truly just be a fluke totally unrelated to his actual identity, neither of you wanted to take that risk. So, you just agreed with him.

Steve got up gingerly, and nodded at you to do the same. 

    “Come on,” Steve said, lacing his fingers between yours, a sense of relief rushing through you. 

    For a moment there, you feared that his anxiety might get the best of him and that he wouldn’t pay any attention to you, but he had proved you wrong. He gave your hand a squeeze as the two of you ducked out of the restaurant as nonchalantly as you could. When you were finally outside on the sidewalk, you both walked back to Steve’s car, not looking back. 

    The car ride home was silent other than the music Steve put on to distract himself from his thoughts. He truly was trying to remain stable rather than let his nerves get the best of him. He hadn’t quite let his guard down, but he also didn’t feel as if he’d be recognized. He was getting too comfortable— no, he was just doing what was right, taking you out and taking care of you. He wouldn’t let himself sink into blaming himself or anyone else. 

    You were both far past that, far from fear and holding yourselves back from what you truly wanted, which was to be together and feel like you could do that without inhibitions. You both understood the conditions under which you’d be meeting in person, and you understood that Steve needed to keep this under wraps for the sake of privacy and safety. You had grown enough not to let these conditions hinder you, you wouldn’t start now just because of a little hiccup. 

    “Steve,” came your voice, distracting him from the loop of thoughts replaying in his brain as you both walked into the apartment.

    “Hm?” he turned to face you, and you grabbed his hand gently, a small, reassuring smile on your lips. 

You led him to the living room couch and you both sat down, facing each other. 

    “Let’s talk about it, okay? You’ll feel better if you just talk to me about it instead of letting it bother you in silence,” you directed, and he took in a deep breath before sitting back and nodding understandingly. 

You wanted to at least solve the problem before it spiraled into a bigger one, and if it meant you had to sit on the couch and talk about it, then so be it. You’d rather a hard discussion than any issues.

    “It’s not that I’m paranoid, it’s just… I don’t want anything to be ruined because of me. You know, I’ve been enforcing all these rules and… I just care about our privacy and safety the most.”

    “You do know that I’d never blame you for anything, right? You do know that?” you asked him, tilting your head as you waited for him to make eye contact with you and answer you honestly.

He did eventually, nodding and cracking a small grin,

    “I know. I… I don’t want it to seem like one small thing would ruin my mood, I don’t want you to think I’m as scared as I used to be.”

    “I don’t think you are though, Stevie,” you said softly as you stroked his cheek, your long acrylic nails gently running along his skin. 

    He seemed to calm down immediately from your touch, his facial expression softening, but you could tell he was still upset with himself. You grinned to yourself. You liked being able to make Steve feel better with just a trivial touch. You knew your presence actually meant something to him, and that sentiment meant everything to you. You knew he just wanted to keep you safe, especially considering the circumstances of your relationship, but you didn’t want him getting too worked up. You could handle yourself and Steve knew that, but having him next to you in situations like this was just a plus— after all, there was a reason why the guy only approached you once he’d seen Steve had left. 

    “It’s okay, Steve. Really. I get it, it’s unexpected and worrisome. Neither of us really were prepared for that. I think you handled it amazingly. Don’t think this diminishes all the progress we made, alright?” you let your hand slip down to his, and gave it a squeeze. “Because it doesn’t. Okay?”

    “Okay,” Steve chuckled, and you could tell by the smile in his laugh that he was resigning. 

    He was truly enjoying spending time with you like a normal couple would. He wasn’t peeking over his shoulder, he was just being careful. But he knew the risks he was taking. And he knew he’d just have to roll with the punches, that he couldn’t let one moment change everything for the worse. You were practically reading Steve’s mind, because based on his reaction, you knew exactly how he felt, and you already had all the words you’d need to console him. 

    You held his hand tight, as if to remind him that he needn’t be so hard on himself or be afraid that you doubted him in any way. As if to remind him you weren’t going anywhere. He couldn’t deny that your touch made a considerable impact on his mood, as well as your presence. Just your presence seemed to radiate whatever he needed in the moment, and at that moment, it was calm. 

    “Don’t feel worried that you made the wrong decision by bringing us here today. I had the best time. This small inconvenience doesn’t fuck up the fact that I just had an amazing day with you, okay?”

Steve nodded slowly, though you could tell it took a lot for him to take the blame off himself. You weren’t sure that he was fully convinced, but at least he seemed a little less out of it.

    “I’m glad you understand, YN. But I have to take responsibility. I’m not going to become all paranoid again, but I just think it’d be best to lay low for a minute and recover. I really do want to show you everything, I just-”

    “Steve, calm down,” you tittered, shaking your head. “I don’t need to see everything. I came here to see you, not tour New York. As long as I’m with you, I don’t care. We could go out every day or we could stay in. I know you’d make the effort either way. Besides, we only have so much time left together, and I feel like you’ve shown me the entire world.”

    It was true— Steve had proven to you that he cared time and time again, whether it was through flying you out or taking you out without you having to ask. It was the little things. The way he poured just the right amount of sugar in your coffee in the morning, helped you zip up your dresses in the morning, let you blast your music in the car. He seemed to think he needed to prove himself, and you wanted to show him that he had already done that, and more.

    Steve chuckled, and you squeezed his thigh, kissing his cheek. He turned to face you, leaning in to kiss you on the lips this time. You shifted closer to him, leaning in until you were close enough to rest your palms on his cheek, climbing into his lap and deepening the kiss. Slow, passionate, and quiet, you sat there kissing each other. You kissed each other like you were trying to savor the taste of one another’s lips, like you were trying to remember it for the rest of your lives. You kissed like you were sharing secrets. 

    It was only a matter of time before you were taking off your shirt and kissing him harder, grinding against him and riding him slow on the couch in the bright daylight. You were gentle and slow, it was more like you were making love than just fucking. And by the time you were done, passed out and sweaty on the couch hours later, all your worries had been fucked away.

| | |

    Tomorrow was your last day with Steve. You’d be flying back home to California the next day, and saying goodbye. But not just yet. You had all the time in the world to say goodbye, but today you were both devoted to spending a beautiful, eventful day together. Steve had stuff planned for you, and you had stuff planned for Steve. You had mutually agreed to skip all the crying and pouting, and just be happy for the experience instead. So when you woke up that morning next to Steve, who was still asleep, you were giddy to start the day. 

    Absentmindedly, you picked up your phone on the end table beside you. It was positively buzzing with notifications, and you were a bit thrown off by the sheer amount of them. You furrowed your eyebrows as you skimmed through the notifications from the bottom to the top— you had a bunch of missed calls from your parents, more Snapchat notifications on your regular snap than ever, and a plethora of texts. 

    You wondered if something had happened, chewing slightly on your bottom lip. Was everything okay at home? Did you post something meant for your cam site on your Instagram? A hundred various circumstances fled through your mind, but none of the situations you had made up could’ve prepared you for when you opened a text from Aaliyah with a picture attached. It read:

    - Attachment: 1 image

    - BITCH, THIS IS LITERALLY YOU!!!

[yamagucji]

love letters from cupid.

dear lovely anons,

i cherish every bit of interaction we have. im extremely grateful to know that there are people out there who read and enjoy my works. hm, hope you know that i care about each of you. honestly sometimes i just wanna make a post dedicated to each of you but idk!! if you’ll see it or not. hopefully this bit is enough to let you know how much i appreciate every single one of you. thank you.

dear readers,

thank you for reading my works. it’s comforting to know that there are people out there who will check out something that i’ve slapped on together with every bit of my effort. to those of you who have consistently supported my works in silence- you know who you are. im just... keeping my distance because ya’ll are really just minding your own business while i get giddy about seeing you pop up in my notifications again. im hoping to get around and send a ty note to as many special readers n special ppl on this blog. but im a little shy, so i hope you’ll give me some time. seeing you in my notifications from time to time makes me happy; sometimes i do wonder if you’re still here and in good health. i hope you all are right now. thank you.

dear dani,

what a wonderful being you are. never regretting the first time i *shyly* asked if there was anyone that wanted to be friends here. i probably already talk about my love for you and vera so much but who’s gonna stop me? you’re such a cool person. i look up to you (literally). i think it’s amazing to get to know a person who has a lot of passion for history like me. but also- screams about 2d men with me. truthfully, this site is much more bearable having you as a moot. i feel very comfortable talking to you, about anything at all. lomve you, you’re the best.

dear mayya,

kindness personified. im sure you’ve made a plethora of people smile with every rb and comment you’ve given; including me. i think it’s very refreshing to see such genuine comments. you radiate this calm aura that im always seeking for. thank you, for providing me (and many other people) with that. a little embarrassing that you see my uhm, messy sideblog, but... it’s comforting i think. to know that someone is listening. i hope that you understand it goes the other way around too— that i’m here for you.

dear hrituja,

my partner of chaos. when did it start? i can’t remember. all i know is that every little thing you send me on instagram really makes my day. i’ll have bad days and all i need to do is look at the silly stuff you sent me and get a laugh out of it. i think it’s cool that we’ve been able to build this space where we can talk about anything (literally), poke fun of each other, and also ourselves. you’re cool. i genuinely like hearing you go off about ace. if i could meet a moot it’d probably be you unless you’re secretly a fraud and you’re actually just a 80 yr old man looking for a sugar babie. in that case im in.

dear oz,

you overly sweet bean. i genuinely watch you in awe from afar, just by how talented and hardworking you are. your art is amazing, and i always look forward to the design you make for your oc’s outfits. thank you for understanding me, and for being patient with me. i care about you a lot, so if there’s ever anything that’s occupying your mind and you need to let them out, i’m here to listen. ps. i really don’t know any other mutual who listens to *that* comfort stuff like i do so im really thankful to have someone to talk about them with. you can always share your interests with me too, especially with your dearest tendou.

dear tate,

im such in awe of you. just the fact that you devote a lot of your time into writing and setting up the theme for your blog astounds me. not to mention, your art skills as well. i am still very much in love with that bokuto piece you made with the hanging leaves. i hope you know that bokuto loves you just as much as you do to him. i know you’re writing up something special atm, so i’m really looking forward to it. thank you for all the time you’ve spared just to send me an ask. it truly does mean a lot to me. it feels like someone is listening, and i’m very appreciative of having you as my dear mutual. please know that i’m here to support you too, with the best of my abilities.

dear winx club,

[ @wissbby @kageruna @pinkbunnyplushie @astrooliver @lovingtobio @kenmaki @lfjr @lcsbianist ]

im such a clutz, but thank you for dealing with me. i was little nervous to start up such a discord server because im bad at staying in one. though, the warm environment that you all provide makes me feel much more at ease. i think it’s funny popping in to the server and seeing a few people spamming the chat with hugs, headpats and kisses. it’s sweet, too. being in a group discord can get overwhelming for some people, so i appreciate you all for having that patience. another thing- thank you for understanding each other’s boundaries. its hard to be aware all the time especially when you’re interacting with people you don’t know to at a very personal level. im glad that you all helped each other make the space comfy. i look forward to more chaotic and genuine talks with all of you in the future. maybe we’ll still be in touch with each other after a long while? who knows. but im going to cherish every single moment i get with you all.

dear @nishinoya-is-baby @keitsukki11 @sullen-angel24 @smolbludandelions @whootwhoot @cheatingthroughthislife @tadashi-simp @oikaw-ugh @lostsealscreams @sleepykarabou @atsunflower @lfjr @globe-fish @bewwybun @tetsoleil @sleepykarabou @justcafewriter @rin-suna @atsumusc0ck @waitforitillwritemywayout @dorkyhaikyu @yemilnisu @sunseteyes @kenmaki @kenanami,

goodness, i would write you all individual messages if time let me. but, i hope this is alright. i just wanted to thank you all for interacting with some dummy like me because that shit takes real patience </3 y’all are some really cool people and im really glad to have you as a moot. im ngl im pretty sure i’ve stopped by all your inboxes just to forget to actually send an ask :’( or maybe im too shy. one or the other. hopefully i can come around to all your ask boxes soon and fill it with my love because it’s what you all deserve. ya’ll are such amazing and talented people. for the love of god- you have all my love and care in the world. i hope that these past few weeks have been gentle with you, but if not, please let yourself rest from whatever it is that may be putting you down. here’s a gentle reminder that im always here to listen, and i wouldn’t judge you for whatever it is it may be. thank you for being so kind to me, and i hope to return that as well. take care.

@insanitywrites @derpeedoo @killuababie @lespaghetti @ordinary-ace

i haven’t told you this until now but, thank you for giving me company and comfort during a time that i was deeply struggling.

ps. if there’s any grammar or spelling mistakes no u did not see that <3

[nureyevv]

Eye-patch Chats

“So,” said Buddy, “Are there any questions about the plan?”

Juno tried to ignore the way she directed her gaze at him as she spoke, waiting for him to ask her to repeat herself. Sure, back when he was still adjusting to life on the Carte Blanche he’d asked some stupid questions, but plenty of time had passed since then and he was practically a seasoned criminal by now.

Ok, well, there was that one time last week when he’d forgotten what their objective was, but that was a complicated heist! And of course the time before that when he’d nearly overslept their departure… 

Alright, fine, maybe this didn’t come naturally to him the way it did Buddy or Vespa or Jet or Nureyev or even Rita (honesty had she been running a side hussle the entire time she was his assistant?), but this time he understood her plot perfectly. He would not be supplying the kind of dumb comment she was expecting. 

Except… he did have a question. 

After a moment of silence as Buddy waited for his inevitable interjection, he gave in. At least this time he wouldn’t be asking about simple logistics that everyone else at the table seemed to understand already.

“I know the whole attire thing is your deal, Buddy,” he began, thinking back to their first mission when Buddy had put him a gaudy golden gown. She’d been right, though, he fit in perfectly, not that objecting got him anywhere anyways. “But, I was hoping we might skip the glass eye, considering last time I used a replacement I almost died getting rid of it-- no offense Big Guy.”

Jet shook his head. “No, you are correct. I did not anticipate your survival.”

“Well, isn’t that a vote of confidence,” Juno muttered. 

“Oh, you should see him before getting a shot!” Rita interjected. “He gets all pale and grumpy and starts grumblin’ about how he can’t stand blood even though he was a detective and worked a bunch of murder cases and I always had to say ‘Mistah Steel, you get out of that windowsill right now and march on over to the doctor’s office--’”

“Alright, that’s enough of that!” he said, shooting her a look.

“Actually, I think we should recreate that scene,” added Vespa in a tone that made Juno very uncomfortable with the fact she was the only medic on the ship.

“That would be very humorous,” said Jet. 

Before anyone else could jump on the ‘embarrass Juno’ train he decided to redirect the conversation to the topic at hand. “So is that a yes or no on the glass eye?”

Buddy considered for a moment before nodding. “I don’t foresee that causing any issues, although if it comes down to a matter of safety--”

“I’ll suck it up and wear the thing,” he finished for her. “Is there anything else or can we call it a day-- not that this whole conversation hasn’t been a complete joy.”

He glanced around the table at the others. Vespa was still smirking, proud of her contribution, while Rita seemed to be playing an intense game of charades with Jet that was either a continuation of their earlier conversation or a reenactment of a star combusting. To his surprise, Nureyev, sitting at his right, was silent. Sure, it wasn’t like him to jump headfirst into conversations like this, but he usually had a comment on the plan, at the very least. 

Instead, his expression was blank. If Juno hadn’t known him so well he might have mistaken it for boredom, but experience told him that was the face Nureyev put on when he was lost in thought. 

He’d have to ask if everything was alright once they had a free moment. Chances were he was just breaking down the next heist, plotting his own movements within what Buddy had already determined. Still, an unease settled in him. 

“Yes, that’s all for today’s family meeting, “Buddy answered, pulling Juno from his thoughts. “I expect you each to spend the remainder of your day preparing.”

With that, she stood up and the table picked up it’s individual conversations. 

He was about to use the cover of post-meeting chaos to ask Nureyev if he was alright, but was interrupted before he got the chance. 

“Mistah Steel,” Rita said, having abandoned the game of violent gestures with Jet, “Why don’t I go ahead and fix that tracker in you comms. Sounds like you're going to need it for the big mission tomorrow.”

“Huh?” he said, his attention shifting over to Rita. “Oh, yeah, the tracker. Sure thing Rita just give me one sec--” 

Looking back at where Nureyev had been he found that the thief had made one of his signature escapes while Juno had been distracted. It seemed that their conversation would have to wait until later. 

Rita was staring at him with a curious look on her face as he returned to their exchange. 

“Uh, here you go,” he said, fishing his comms out of his pocket. “Actually, I was wondering if you could show me how the tracker feature works. If it breaks on a job again I can’t necessarily rely on you to be there to fix it for me.”

“Are you sure,  Mistah Steel?” she asked, a hint of a smile creeping onto her face. “Last time you asked me to explain something technology related you spent an hour tryin’ to figure out where the power button was-- and that’s not even counting the time ya spent claimin’ the screen was broken.”

“Well I’m still not convinced it wasn’t broken, but that’s beside the point,” he argued. Stupid computers and their stupid controls… “Anyways, can you just show me how the thing works.”

“If you insist,” Rita said with a shrug, “We should probably go to my room though, it’s pretty busy out here and I’ve got a hunch this’ll take a while…”

His eyebrows pulled together as he frowned. 

“I won’t take that long,” he retorted, though he followed her to her rooms anyway. 

***

It took the entire afternoon and a large portion of the evening to fix the tracker. Well, it took Rita ten minutes to do it and another hour to explain how. The rest of the time was dedicated to his attempts to repeat what she’d done and breaking the thing even worse than before. 

At the end of the day they were both exhausted and Juno was nowhere closer to understanding how his comms worked. Hungry and brain dead, they’d decided to call it a day and grab a late dinner.

It wasn’t until he was about to retire to his room for the night that he actually had a chance to look at his comms. As Rita had not so subtly pointed out, he wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to technology, so he wasn’t particularly accustomed to receiving messages, especially now that most of the people who had any interest in speaking to him lived on the same ship. 

As he flopped onto his bed, prepared to all but pass out, he decided to double check his inbox, just to be sure.

It was a surprise to find a question from Nureyev. 

“Can we talk?” it read, short and sweet, which only made his stomach drop.

It was probably nothing, and yet… well that sure was a comforting message to receive from your ex-something.

It’d been sent around noon. As much as Juno wanted to crawl into bed and forget about his growing dread long enough to fall asleep, he couldn’t let Nureyev wait any longer in good conscience. 

So, somehow he found himself trekking across the Carte Blanche in the middle of the night, the day before a mission. It didn’t occur to him until after he’d knocked on the door that Nureyev was probably already asleep. 

He was just about to make a shameful retreat when the door swung open.

Nureyev, it seemed, was still wide awake. In fact, the other man was still dressed in the clothes he was wearing earlier that day, which made Juno a bit embarrassed of the T-shirt he slept in. 

“Uh,” he began, noticing the quizzical look on Nureyev’s face. “I got your message” 

Before he could get a response, though, he followed up his own statement with apologetic word vomit. “I just realized how late it is, though, and you probably have a ton you want to get done before tomorrow so I should go, right? Yeah I should go--”

He tried not to physically cringe at how awkward he sounded. Jeez, he was acting like Rita, but at least she made it charming. 

But Nureyev only smiled in that easy way he did and motioned Juno inside. “Not at all. I’ll be up for another few hours anyway and all my preparations for tomorrow are complete. Please, come in.”

Juno obliged with an embarrassed nod. Nureyev followed him inside the door shutting behind him with a soft click. 

“So I got your message,” he started again, rubbing the back of his neck when he realized he’d already said that. “I guess… I guess I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You were kind of out of it earlier today.”

At that, Nureyev laughed and shook his head. If Juno hadn’t been so drunk on the sound of that laugh he might have worried he was being mocked, but Peter had a way of easing tensions without saying anything at all. Or, at least he did when it came to Juno.

“I could have asked you the same thing,” he answered, matter-of-factly. “Have a seat, Juno.”

Juno did, settling into the edge of Nureyev’s cot. The other man took the space next to him. 

“I suppose I was simply curious,” he continued with a shrug. “I may have no right to ask this of you considering how tight lipped I’ve been about my activities last year, but what were you all referring to this morning?”

Juno’s brows furrowed as he thought back to that day’s meeting.

“I thought you already knew I hated blood?”

Nureyev smiled again. “Yes, I do recall that-- although Rita’s recounts added more pizazz than you’ve ever let on. I was actually talking about the near death experience with Jet.”

Oh. Oh. He was talking about the THEIA incident. 

“Again, you can tell me if I’m overstepping,” he added hastily. “You seemed quite open about it earlier but I don’t want to assume anything.”

Juno leaned back and turned his eyes to the ceiling. “No, no it’s ok. I was just… surprised.”

By which he meant he was shocked Nureyev cared how he’d spent the time they’d been apart. Maybe that was just his own guilt talking, though. He’d made the choice to stay on Mars-- everything that had happened with Ramses and THEIA was his cross to bear. He’d had the chance to get away, but he’d chosen not to-- telling Nureyev about it felt a bit like throwing that choice in his face. 

But he’d asked, and Juno was tired of the awkwardness between them. If Nureyev wanted to know, then Juno would tell him all he could. 

“I guess it’s just hard to know where to start,” he mused. 

“Might I suggest the beginning?”

Juno laughed. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

It was a long story, but Nureyev was patient as Juno navigated through the last year. It felt a bit absurd saying it aloud. The person he’d been back then was something else entirely, so convinced his worth was determined by his aim or how many cases he solved. 

There was something refreshing about how the memories had become distorted with time. It was proof things had changed, even if some topics were still sore. The image of Ramses dead in his office… the ghosts of his mother and brother… the fight for control against his own body. All of it still sent a chill up his spine, but he’d learned to let his past walk alongside him rather than keep him in place.

By the time he got to the end his eyelids were threatening to shut of their own accord, but he hoped his exhaustion wasn’t too obvious on his face. 

“After that, Rita and I decided to leave Mars. I… I couldn’t fix the planet on my own but I knew if I stayed I would keep trying anyways,” he finished, purposely leaving out the part where his new life was interrupted by the presence of a man he’d never expected to see again… and was quite possibly still in love with. 

“I see,” said Nureyev, speaking for the first time since Juno had begun, an intensity in his face Juno couldn’t quite name. “Juno, I’m so sorry.”

He looked at the other man with a sideways smile.

 “Don’t be. I won’t say I’m glad it happened, because I’m not. It was really really shitty. But, y’know, I’m not proud of who I was back then, and I might still be that person if life hadn’t knocked some sense into me.”

“Yes,” Nureyev agreed. ‘Yes, I think I understand. You aren’t the same man as you were in the tomb. I must admit, I’m glad for that.”

Juno swallowed, a wave of doubt rushing over him. Nureyev was… glad he wasn’t the person he’d known. What did that mean? He was relieved to no longer be distracted? He was happy he had no reason to care for Juno anymore? Maybe he deserved it after leaving the way he did, but that was a bit harsh, wasn’t it? He’d just told Nureyev his life story and all he cared about was that whatever he’d been charmed by was gone. 

Nureyev was looking at the floor now, but Juno had nothing more to fill the silence. To his surprise, however, Peter beat him to it. 

“Back then, with Miasma and the bomb, we didn’t know it only affected martians. It’s comforting to know that, should a situation like that arise again, it would play out differently.”

Juno gaped at him. “Oh.”

So he wasn’t glad that Juno wasn’t the person he’d fallen for. Nureyev was just glad he wanted to live.

Unsure where to go with their conversation after that, Juno stood. “Well, it’s getting late, and now that you know the story behind my aversion to eye replacements, we should really get some rest before tomorrow.”

Following Juno’s lead, Nureyev got to his feet  and moved to open the door for him. “Yes, of course. Good night, Juno.”

“G’night,” he answered as he crossed through the threshold. “--And Nureyev?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

The other man shot him a confused look. “For what?”

Juno shrugged. “Take your pick.”

***

Despite their late night, the next day’s mission went off without a hitch. Well, if you considered getting chased by the local authorities “without a hitch”, which Juno did. 

The next few days were rather quiet. Buddy still required family meetings each day, but since they were a ways out from their next heist the discussions were rather concise. Juno spent most of his days somewhat begrudgingly watching streams with Rita. Anything to pass the time, he supposed. 

He hadn’t spoken to Nureyev since the night they’d discussed THEIA ordeal, but Juno didn’t push it. He still wasn’t positive what sort of terms they were on. If Nureyev wanted to talk to him, Juno figured he would reach out. 

He did, however, come across a small piece of fabric he’d never seen before on his bedside table one morning. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be an eyepatch-- a nice one, at that-- with a dahlia embroidered in gold on the front. 

It didn’t have a gift tag or anything to reveal the identity of the sender aside for a scrap of scratch paper with a sentence scrawled across it. 

“So you have something real to thank me for.”

[bitchardhendricks]

Well I’ve Never Been to Heaven (But I’ve Been to Oklahoma) Pt 10

So. The last couple weeks have been...A Lot. Both personally and y’know from an entire racial equity uprising perspective, and I’ve felt very much that my responsibility was to read, learn, understand, listen, and be quiet. No one needs to hear a white girl writing about white nerd boy problems right now. But I realized after a couple weeks that when I got overwhelmed, or when I needed to relieve the pressure valve on my emotions, I turned to the same form of comfort I always have - stories. Stories about characters I love, whether they’re in tv, movies, fic, whatever. The comfort of those stories allowed me to rest just enough that I could wake up the next day and keep reading, learning, listening. So it may seem silly, this meandering tale of these two flawed men confronting the past and the future together, but reading stories like this helps me feel sane enough that I have the energy to keep trying to do better. I hope this one helps you, too. Catch up on previous entries here, and come say hi in my inbox and let me know what you think.

***

After lunch, they head 1 mile east until they reach an unremarkable long, squat building with a faded green roof hanging down nearly halfway to the ground and obscuring the store front, held up by a series of flared white cinderblock columns. This elongated hut takes up the better part of a city block, and as they pull into the cracked parking lot, Richard spies Jared’s face lighting up as he reads the sign.

“Gardner’s Used Books, CDs, Videos, DVDs, Toys, Comics, Records, Collectibles, Gifts...my goodness, that’s quite a treasure trove!” 

“You have no idea,” Richard says, bounding out of the car and up to the front door in quick strides. The tables set up under the roof’s overhang hold boxes and boxes of books, lining the entire front of the building, but Richard doesn’t stop to look at these. “Bargain books,” he explains as Jared pauses to scan some of the titles. “You find some great stuff, but you can pay outside so I usually do that last.” He points to an old Folgers coffee jug with a slit cut in its plastic lid. A sign above it says 50 CENTS OR 3/$1, but Richard’s attention is now focused on entering the front door, the familiar jingle causing a rush of nostalgia that works its way into his guts. 

He’s 16 again, acne-riddled and knock-kneed, and his new driver’s license is burning a hole in his velcro wallet. The dusty scent of old paper and ancient carpeting is commingling with the aroma of hot oil, onions, and sizzling meat from the bookstore’s attached Mexican restaurant. He has $37 in his pocket, and a whole day of summer vacation to burn. 

As present-day Richard takes in the familiar organized chaos, Jared nearly walks into a gargantuan statue of the Hulk because he’s looking around at the stacks of books piled everywhere, muttering a sheepish, “Excuse me!” to the statue. A bubble of warmth seems to rise from deep within Richard’s belly, and he grabs at Jared’s wrist to redirect him - that thin, elegant wrist, so delicate, almost like a bird, maybe that’s why Jared likes birds so much, because he feels a kinship with them? - and tugs gently. “C’mon. I wanna show you around.”

Richard leads them to the left, past rows and rows of new arrivals and fiction. A coffee shop has been added on; all the decor is aggressively Parisian in a very bland Hobby Lobby-type way. There are wire shelves hanging off the walls holding the top 20 best selling mysteries of all time. Tall wooden shelves in the middle of the room stretch from floor to ceiling, arranged in small mazes that take up their respective corners, crammed with colorful paperbacks. Jared pauses at the Mary Higgins Clarks for a moment, but Richard urges him on by saying, “Wait, there’s more!” 

Another archway, this one opening up into a cavernous beige room with a little more natural light. Small rolling footstools are perched in every aisle so customers can reach the tops of the towering shelves, and with each new shelf, Jared’s eyes seem to grow wider. “Does it just go on forever?” he asks, and Richard nods, steering him past Romance and Horror to the seemingly endless Nonfiction shelves. Cookbooks, humor, foreign language - the section names are taped to wooden beams that extend between the tops of the rows of bookshelves until finally they reach the Computer Science section, which Richard presents with a grand flourish. 

“This is where I got my very first coding manual. Python, it was--” he scans the shelves, squints, but, “oh, um well they don’t have it now. Duh, why would they, that was, anyway, this is where it all started!”

Jared takes in the shelves with a look of absolute wonder lighting up his face. He looks young and carefree in a way Richard isn’t sure he’s ever seen before, like he’s about to burst into song in a musical or something. Before he can say anything, Jared has his phone out, the sound of the camera shutter in his face making Richard jump. “Aw, c’mon Jared, don’t,” he says, but his voice is teasing, soft, and there’s a pleasant whispering at the back of his mind at the idea of this place meaning something to history maybe. Where the first seeds of Pied Piper took hold, and the genius coder Richard Hendricks took his first step toward...toward having everything taken away from him by Hooli and Gavin Fucking Belson. His insides are suddenly doused in ice-cold water and he shakes his head, scowling. 

He’s just about to tell Jared to browse by himself for awhile when he’s stopped short by Jared gasping loudly, “Oh my goodness!”

He’s turned to look at the shelf opposite the Computer Science section and is now holding a light green cloth-bound book in his hands as if it were something made of exquisite, delicate glass. The cover has what looks like colored pencil drawings of two yellow birds sitting together on some branches, and Richard leans closer to read the title out loud - “Birds That Every Child Should Know. By,” he pauses, looking up at Jared for confirmation, “Nelt-yah Blanchan?” 

Jared nods, dumbstruck. He looks positively bowled over, and all thoughts of Gavin have fled Richard’s mind completely because he wants to know what could possibly have made Jared so flabbergasted. “So...what is this book? I mean, why’s it - what’s so special about it? Is it rare or something?”

“It is rare, yes; this book was published in 1907. But, that’s not exactly...” he swallows, then looks at Richard with those terrifyingly blue eyes, the ones that root Richard to the spot and peer inside him and refuse to let him squirm away. “My mother had a copy exactly like this. We would go birding together, you see. Just in the woods behind our apartment complex, nothing too exotic. I would spot robins, orioles, blue jays, but ah - “ his smile grows shaky, like it’s trying unsuccessfully to hold up the weight of all those memories, and he says, “I just never thought I’d see this book again, that’s all.”

“Wow,” Richard says, his upper lip caught in his teeth at his own awkwardness. He never knows what to say when Jared mentions his past. Real helpful, Richard, Jesus fuck. “You should um, you should definitely buy it. Right?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly afford, it’s an antique--”

“Jared, come on. You have to. It’s - look, I’ll buy it for you, ok? As like. A thank you present. For coming with me. You have to deal with my parents, deal with me, and it’s just...it’s the least I can do.”

Jared splays one enormous hand over his chest, aghast. “Richard, you don’t have to--”

“Bup bup bup!” Richard says, easing the book out of Jared’s grip and peeking inside the front cover at the price. $26 is penciled in the top right corner of the title page, which seems more than fair for how happy Jared is to have discovered it, so he snaps the book shut and tucks it under his arm to carry. “Done and done. No arguments, Jared. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jared says quietly, his cheeks pink and his eyes shining, looking at Richard like he’s some sort of miracle, some unexpected wondrous hero, come to slay dragons and save the kingdom from wreck and ruin. It takes longer than strictly necessary for Richard to wrench his gaze away. 

“Come on, there’s a lot more of this place to see.”

[ilovemybarricadebabies]

another fanfic ask game post! enjoy!

This time I’m doing these questions!

Inspiration and Reading Questions:

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction?

Reading: I’m not sure. Maybe 2011/2012

Writing: 2013

2. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

It’s definitely both, but I wouldn’t call it a perfect 50/50 split. It varies. Sometimes I read more, but write less or vice versa.

3. Are there any fics that inspired you to write what you do.

Not really. I usually just write fics for whatever I want to.

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

Current favorite WIPs.

All That’s Left by @doriangrayscale

flowers for your grave by @grantairesbottle

Lover of the Light by @areyoumiserableyet

Favorite (four) all-time fics

Ask me no question (and I’ll tell you no lies) by Signe_chan

If you offer salvation, I will run (into your arms) by mornmeril

this is fact not fiction by Rianne

Oh, It’s What You Do To Me by captainskellington

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something.

I have a love-hate relationship with slow burn fics. Like I love them because give me the pining, give me the obliviousness, give me the amazing, sweeping first kiss, give me the angst, just give me all the delicious development that comes with finding common ground and falling in love. That being said, however, and I realize that I’m in the minority here, the hate part comes in when the story is really long, let’s 50+ chapters, and the story gets to chapter 50, but the romance still hasn’t started coming into play and I’m starting to just get sick of it because nothing has progressed to romance. Like there gets to be a time where too much is too much and usually, when that happens, it’s time for me to say adios! to the story.

6. How do you find new fic to read? Where do you primarily read fanfiction.

I primarily read fics on Ao3. I loathe FFN.net with every fiber of my being.

I usually just leave the Enjolras/Grantaire category open on and refresh it like three to four times a day for new stories to read.

7. Do you prefer to read short fics or long fics?

It depends on the ship, but I mostly like long fics.

8. How often do you reblog/comment on fics that you like?

I’m absolutely horrid at commenting (I’m working on getting better), but if it’s a story that I really like (ex. the three WIPs mentioned in question 4), I will comment every time there is a new chapter.

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community.

I have no idea. In my opinion, I think all writers are underrated and unknown.

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for?

Enjolras and Grantaire (Enjoltaire) from Les Mis.

Fanfiction Writing Asks:

11. How do you come up with your fic titles?

Through music or quotes. Sometimes one just comes to me, but mostly through music or quotes.

12. Tell the author your favorite fics title of theirs (not the fics, stricktly the title). Author: what’s your favorite title you’ve come up with and why?

I love all the titles of my fics, I can’t possibly pick a favorite.

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just look at an outline of yours without reading the fic?

I make some sort of outline, but I don’t think they’d really get much of a headache since it’s pretty much just a basic plot, maybe sometimes a little more than that.

14. Do you have personal word minimum that you hold yourself too? Why or why not?

Absolutely not! I write until I think I’ve found a good quitting spot. That can be 500 words or 20k words. It all depends on how I’m feeling and where my motivation is at.

15. Tell the author your favorite fics of theirs. What’s your (the author’s) favorite fic you’ve written?

Forever Was In His Eyes is my favorite with Begin Again as a close second.

Honorable mention because it pushed me out of my comfort zone: Beating of Our One Heart.

16. Do you research your fics? If so, how deep of a rabbit hole have you down by accident while researching?

I only research if the fic absolutely calls for it.

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback?

On a scale of 1-100, 100. I’m not motivated by feedback like some writers are, but I do love to know if someone is enjoying my fic or not.

18. Do you have WIP that you keep telling yourself that you’ll eventually get back to, but deep down you know that’s probably lie?

Nope. Any WIPs that are unfinished, will probably stay unfinished.

19. Do you edit your fics after you write them, or do you prefer to just post and run (because it’s someone else’s problem now)?

I edit, and then, I’m constantly editing after it’s posted. If I re-read one of my fics and spot a spelling mistake, I can’t just let it sit there, I HAVE to fix it. I am also currently in the middle of long and giant editing project to make sure all my stories are the best stories that they can.

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Um...I, for some strange reason, love outlining. I love coming up with the sequence of events. How do the characters get from point A to point B. How does the story end.

21. What’s your least favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Editing and revising. Always.

22. Do you take fic requests? If so, for what characters and why?

Nope. I don’t get enough attention in my inbox to do that.

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write?

Forbidden love. I’ve always been such a sucker for this trope.

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write?

I’m sure that there are some tropes that I would never touch in a million years, but I can’t think of any write now.

25. Do you listen to music as your write? If possible, link your writing playlist.

I listen to music, but I don’t have a playlist. Most of time it’s just Taylor Swift.

26. What’s your biggest distraction when writing?

Um...if I’m watching a brand new TV show or one I haven’t watched in a long time, I’ll pay more attention to the screen then what I’m supposed to be writing. This goes for movies too.

27, Do you like to give your readers some warning of what might be coming or just slap them in the face with content at random?

I keep my fics under lock and key until they are finished. No one knows any details about them except me. The one exception to this rule was Beating of Our One Heart. I warned that that fic would feature a polyamorous relationship (something I have never written before) while I was working on the outline.

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?

Well, the only pressure I usually feel is worry that people won’t like my story, but I think that’s normal for every writer.

29. Have you ever written for an exchange or event of some kind? Which one(s)?

I don’t write for events.

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.

R (11:46 P.M.): I’m not sorry.

31. Of the characters your write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain one?

I love writing Enjolras. I’m sure people who have read my fanfics find him to be OOC, but I don’t care. When I write him, he’s half me projecting and the other half is him being the righteous revolutionary that we know him as.

32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from?

I can’t pick three, I have too many favorites.

33. What do you like writing better: one shots or multi-chapter stuff?

It depends. I like writing both. I also really like writing one shots that are 30k+ and multi-chapter fics that are under 10k. It all just depends on my mood and what the fic calls for.

34. How much of yourself and your life experience do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is?

As stated above, I project onto Enjolras. How much, I’m not saying. I do put my likes and dislikes as the characters’. When I write children, I draw inspiration from my nephews. I use my high school class schedule as the characters’ schedule when I write high school AU’s. The jest of what I’m saying is that I have no idea what my readers’ image of me is.

35. How much has writing fic changed your life?

It’s become my escape when things get too difficult or stressful.

36. Are they any fics or fandoms you’re embarrassed to have written or been apart of?

I’m not embarrassed by it, and I never finished or posted it, but I started writing a Sound of Music fic. I don’t remember what it was about, though.

37. Give an update on your current WIP - if you have one, give a sneak peek to a title or idea that you have and would like to write.

My current WIP is almost done. I just have to finish writing more scene.

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)?

It’s very tame, so 1. I write my stories in order of events, if I don’t I get confused on what’s happen. I start by writing an outline, and then I write and I edit (multiple times) before I post.

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

That I write what I want to. No comments can really influence the story (unless it’s a consistency thing) because I write the whole thing out before it’s posted.

40. How did you come up with the idea for [x fic]?

You can see this answer right here!

41. What’s your most popular fic (with the most notes on Tumblr, most hits/kudos on Ao3)?

My most popular fic based on hits: Somethings Are Meant to Be.

My most popular fic based on kudos: The Enjolras Guide to Weddings and Love.

42. Asker: pick three of the author’s works. Author: rank them 1 (the best) - 3 (the worst) based on whatever criteria you want - this could be something totally random that isn’t quality related ( like simply ranking fics based on how many trains appear in them) have fun!

I’m skipping this question!

43. Talk about a positive experience with fanfiction or the fanfiction community that you will always remember.

Every comment that I get, especially if I get it when I’m having a bad day, is like a little ray of sunshine for me. Again I’m not motivated by comments or feedback, but I can’t deny that receiving it is like a cherry on top of a delicious hot fudge sundae.

44. Ran about something writing related.

How long it takes to write. I wish I could just connect some sort of machine to my brain, and it would just churn out the words for my fics and they could be done a lot sooner. And that fanfiction could come before homework and life, but alas it can’t.

45. Fic specific questions - if you have any weird questions about specific works, here’s your shot to ask them!

Skipping this one, but if you have a question about any of my fics, my ask box is currently closed, but my DM’s are always open.

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, LIA! You’ve been accepted for the role of OLIVIA. Admin Julie: It’s always a delight to see you in our inbox, Lia -- imagine our joy when we saw you’d returned to us in the shape of our favorite sparrow, Omi! It’s been some time since we had her in play, which is a shame, because she’s one of our personal favorites. But you’ve pinned everything about Omi down to a T, from their characteristic skill and allure in trapping others with a few words and sharp gaze, to the way they’re wound around Verona’s fingers and don’t seem to realize... or choose not to. You’ve enthralled us once again, and we cannot wait to have you back on the dashboard and knee-deep in the chaos with Omi in your hands. Please review the CHECKLIST and send your account in within 24 hours. 

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Lia.

Age | 22

Pronouns | She/Her/Hers

Activity Level | I’m about to start my summer program, but since I’m only in class three days during next semester on online, I imagine I’ll have plenty of freetime. But knowing me, I’ll most likely log on every few days to knock out a few replies.

Timezone | EST (PST in two months (~:)

How did you find the rp?  | The tag a few centuries ago.

Current/Past RP Accounts | honestly, all of my best characters were in DV :/ All 17 of them

IN CHARACTER

Character | Olivia AKA Yamamoto Omi

What drew you to this character? |

Omi is a character I’ve eyeballed during my time at DV, but someone I’ve never quite had the nerve to apply for. But it is the qualities that I initially shied away from that have inspired me to apply for them this time around. Even upon searching the origin of Omi’s name, I was fascinated by the worldliness and elusiveness it implied about their character.  I came across two definitions, both of which I believe represented her character accurately:

1. OMI— magnificent; the sound of the universe

She is a walking contradiction— the product of love and violence— never truly lacking in either aspect within her lifetime. Maybe that is why she finally found community and comfort within Verona after venturing all over the world. As much as she might hate to admit, this very love and violence is what she’s comfortable with— it’s how she’s learned to thrive and survive. Though they never truly felt like themselves as they ventured around the world, they kept small pieces of each place they visited, all of which have made them into the Sparrow, the performer, that they are today. This is why I began viewing Omi as the sound of the universe. Vast and immeasurable, and not quite able to pinpoint to a single source. She is representative of an assembly of realities. She is never quite the same with each person she encounters, with them only receiving a snapshot or illustration of who she is, with the people she’s closest to receiving the most authentic parts of herself. To be a Sparrow is to participate— in Omi’s opinion— in one of the most precise crafts— an art form that only a select number can master. It is a performance, one in which they give their entirety to, oftentimes to the point that they sense themself slipping away, forgoing what they thought to be their true self and instead opting for the persona they have created. Somehow, being Omi the Sparrow is a far less difficult reality for her to face. What is expected of her is straightforward, her desires and fulfillment never changing very much. Omi the Sparrow always gets what she wants. Their heart is unbreakable, yet shared with everyone they encounter. The power and agency can be detected in her words, her mannerisms— she is completely sure of herself, and what she represents. But Omi— just plain Omi, questions herself constantly. She desires to be seen more than anything but is hesitant to show herself to another person. The weight of the secrets of others sometimes threatens to topple her over. What would their patrons think of their constant doubt? This was something they would never discover because she values her position more than she doubts herself. She loves luxury and security more than she questions who she is and who she’s become. She thrives in this simplistic power far more than she finds herself succumbing to it. And this leads me to what I love most about Omi. Her position allows her to wield a form of power that isn’t flashy or overt, or as obvious and clear cut as many people within the mob. It is subtle and it is dangerous. It is a power you least expect, which will certainly make her someone to look out for within the Verona. It is a power that she does not quite comprehend the magnitude and weight of as of now, but something I hope to develop over time.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

MONA— Their saving grace. There are seldom things Mona could do that would lessen the admiration that Omi holds for her, as this is the woman who they believed to have saved them, to introduce them to the boundless and limitless potential that they had. She did not introduce anything that was not there but instead nurtured the qualities that Omi already possessed for her to become one of the best, if not the best Sparrow that has glided through the various rooms and crannies of The Dark Lady thus far. Omi looks upon Mona as a big sister and is always aiming to please her, whether she recognizes that she’s actively doing so or not. But she is bound to cross her eventually— whether it is slight or monumental, and I believe Omi temporarily or permanently (dear lord idk if I could handle Mona not loving them pls sotkgoerkgose) falling from their grace would be an interesting concept to explore. So much of her existence is tied to Mona’s, and I think that it would take something like that occurring for her to recognize this. Who exactly would she be without Mona rescuing her? Would she have survived a day in the city without her? Having Omi deal with being without Mona would introduce some harsh truths. Could they truly rely on themself? Though she adamantly expresses her desire not to be possessed, is it that she truly enjoys being subjected to the whims of another person, so as long she is given the autonomy, luxury, and ability to wield some form of power? Would she simply be transferred from the hands of one power player to another, seeking out one of the mobs knowing they were the only other people who could give her what she truly desired?

FRIENDS ON THE OTHER SIDE— In the short time that Omi has spent in Verona, she’s acquired quite a few patrons from various walks of Veronesi royalty, but as much as she’s done her best to keep people at a distance, she’s also made a few friends. Chiko— whose hopes and dreams she’s carried with her since childhood— with them being one of the sole people to know Omi to near entirety. Felipe— the man who made her realize that even ghosts were capable of creating trouble for themselves, who she’d dared to offer real information about herself for whatever reason, finding something odd and compelling about the handsome enigma before her. Calina— their true match of wits, words, and worldliness— the person in which she’s entrusted with not just her fears and shortcomings, but her hopes and dreams, as well as them being that very person to set her heart aflutter. All of these people have something in common. In some shape or form, they are familiar with more than just Omi the Sparrow. I wonder what danger this could pose for her in the future. Would it be the person they are in essence that would land her in trouble? Chiko, the ruthless social climber, Felipe, who they knew trouble was always a short distance behind, and Calina, whose ties with the mob could only naturally come with trouble… couldn’t they? I want Omi to eventually land in some more trouble (maybe this could be something intertwined with my first plot, or potentially something entirely unrelated), and truly test how far she’s willing to go for the friendships she hopes to keep. Maybe it has to do with some information told to her in confidence; information she almost feels obligated to share with Mona. Will she refuse to do so, at the risk of the life and livelihood that she’s created for herself?

LOOSE ENDS— The past will always be the past for Omi— unless that past happened to make an appearance in the city of Verona. This isn’t something they would expect to occur, given that they have two dead parents, no siblings, or any known extended family. Maybe this would come in the form of Chiko— maybe some other unknown source would manage to dig up some sort of information to potentially be used against them. Regardless, I want Omi to be confronted with her past life, and for her to realize that the horror will always be apart of her, no matter how long that she’s attempted to evade it.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes, but I think I would miss her more than any of my other characters ngl :(

IN DEPTH

In-Character Para Sample:

tw: mentions of death and violence

In The Dark Lady, Omi transformed into a blossom tinted mirror in which men and women alike looked upon in order to divest the realities they so desired. This functioned the similarity to a rose-tinted glass, their very persona the result of a thousand borrowed realities. In Omi, they sought the best version of themselves. They had the ability to morph into everything their patrons wanted, yet could not own, making them all the more desirable. There was something especially tantalizing about what appeared to be accessible, but ever so slightly out of a person’s reach. Even if the reality of things were that there was no chance in hell. Even if there had been a burgeoning disgust for each and every one of the wealthy, and corrupt person they encountered. Even if she’d been unable to scour away their caress no matter how many showers she subjected herself to in the early hours of the morning. How effortlessly she’d sold them a dream. How effortlessly they’d become enamored with The Dark Lady’s very own Japanese Cherry Blossom, a hand-picked artifact from Sakura to enjoy in their very own Verona. She bartered away a fantasy, and in exchange they fed her in secrets, each whisper only intensifying her power and allure. No amount of repulsion would change that they were damn good at their job. No amount of repulsion would change that she’d finally found where they’d belong.

They were notorious for their collection of extremely high heels, and rumor had it that not even a misstep had occurred in a single pair of them. Eyes danced over her as she glided into the casino, garnering an especially large crowd probably because of the fresh pixie cut she’d been sporting. Some days, Omi would linger, never quite sure whose attention she’d capture that day, but on other days, her presence had been requested by a specific patron. Today’s patron had been of particular importance. A well known Italian bureaucrat she’d actually managed to find rather endearing at times, despite her suspicion that he’d been spending more time with her than his own family. Nevermind that though. They had a sneaking suspicion that they were only moments away from stumbling upon a goldmine of information. They reckoned that this particular information could potentially make not just Mona, but both mobs particularly happy. Soon as they’d reached the Blackjack table, the patron, Patron E, swept her merrily into his arms, spinning her in place, resulting in her delighted laughter, clutching onto his shoulders to maintain her balance. Once he’d gotten his fill, she carefully placed a single kiss on each of his cheeks, taking in the scent of whiskey on his lips. No wonder he’d been especially playful. The whiskey had only begun their job for them. “Why, if it isn’t the most lovely person in all of Verona,” Patron E stated, grinning ear to ear. “I absolutely adored your old hair, bella, but with this cut, you somehow managed to become even more magnificent."

She smiles coyly, hands traveling down the lengths of his arms until meeting his hands, which he brought promptly to his lips for a kiss. "I was feeling spontaneous, E, but knowing you like it lifted a significant weight off my shoulder. Everyone else’s opinion be damned, but yours has always meant the world to me,” they coo in flawless Italian. “Is there anything else you noticed?"

His eyes drank her in hungrily, almost hungrier than usual, before returning to her eye level. "You’re wearing my good luck charm,” he responded with an almost childlike euphoria. Patron E had been referring to the deep V-Neck Dolce & Gabbana gown that had been purchased for her by another Patron of hers— Q— with the jet black of her hair only accentuating the Black sequins of the gown. She took it upon herself to take his hand and lift it above the both of them, completing a graceful, yet playful twirl to show off every sparkle and curve of the length of her body.

“Is that so?” she mused with her head tilted curiously on an axis. “It’s almost as if I wore especially for you, mio callo. You did tell me tonight was a big night for you, after all.”  His eyes twinkled gratefully as he pulled out a seat for her at the blackjack table, settling into the seat next to him, her body positioned perpendicularly to his, taking absolutely no interest in the game before them. It had been a game she’d witnessed by the side of many men before him and would witness many men after him. Her knees were pressed against his thigh, with the leg closest to the table occasionally finding itself absentmindedly caressing his own. One hand consistently remained attached his shoulder, with their other hand assisting them in the delivery of their sweet nothings, cupping his ear to whisper everything he’d ever wished to discover. Together they laughed, flirted, and whispered— he drank and she carefully sipped, until the game finally came to a close, with him losing per usual. After that, the pair of them moved to a more intimate section of The Dark Lady, the place in which Omi would officially make her move for the information she sought. There he sat on the couch, with her comfortably positioned horizontally in his lap, her slender legs coiled around her legs, with her hand absentmindedly stroking his hair. She’d been telling him some story she’d invented ages ago, half-truths tumbling effortlessly from her lips as she illustrated her last days in Sakura. Once she was done, she began studying his features intently.

“See anything you like?” he asks her quietly, and she cups his chin before deciding he’d been worthy of an answer.

“I see something I like, but something different,” she began with faux perplexion. “Even beneath this red light, I can sense the excitement almost vibrating off of you. “It suits you. I wish you were always this happy when you saw me. Far less tense than usual.”

“Now, Omi, you know I feel most like myself when I’m with you. You always receive the best parts of me,” he says seriously as his hand cups her wrist. “But, to tell you the truth, I’ve come across some very good fortune. A good fortune that I believe will alter the trajectory of my life. I’ve struck a life-changing deal.”

“That’s amazing! I couldn’t be happier for you!” she exclaims softly, before falling into a demure pout. “This… deal won’t take you away from me now, will it?”

He chuckles at her pout as if him parting from her would truly be the most unfortunate occurrence in her 30 years of life. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about a thing, Tesoro. The deal I’ve made has allowed me to acquire a large sum of money. And I have no plans of parting from you anytime soon.”

She smiles gratefully, yet sadly as if she can’t believe it. He looks at her, searching for an answer to her sadness. “What is it, il mio amore? Why do you look so blue?”

At that moment— the slightest pang of sadness sped through her. How effortlessly he had succumbed to her charm, to the point that she’d almost felt bad for the fool. “Well… the way you aren’t giving much information about the deal is only forcing me to draw my own conclusions. Ones in which I can’t help but assume that you’ve been put in a dangerous predicament, which is stopping you from telling because you’re afraid to get me into trouble.” He drew her closely, placing a soft kiss on each of her temples, then her forehead, then her lips.

“I wouldn’t let them harm a hair on your head, Omi. I hope you know that I mean that.” She resisted chuckling. She’d been nearly divinely protected. If anything it was him who wouldn’t be able to harm a hair on her head.

“Is this them you speak of…” she looks around carefully, knowing there was no one near, but doing it as if to accentuate her supposed fear. “The government…?” she offers him, and when he does not react, she places a long, lacquered pinky nail upon her lip. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten yourself mixed up with one of the mobs, E—”

“Mixed up with the mobs?” he interrupts with a haughty chuckle. “Why, they’ve gotten themselves mixed up with me, dearest Omi. Sooner rather than later, both the Capulets and the Montagues will be feeding out of the palm of my hand.” How drunk had the man had to have been to have confessed such a silly sentiment? Or was it not the liquor at all, and simply Omi bearing witness to the limitless bounds of the male ego? Probably a mixture of both.

She shoves his shoulder gently, feigning shock. “You’ve either done something insanely brilliant or incredibly stupid. But I’ve always known you to be far too clever for the latter.”

With each curious caress, they’d managed to extract more and more information from their subject, his ego centering itself above all else— even his desire to live. He had to have known that, hadn’t he? Or had he simply been too foolish to even consider the danger he’d been putting himself in by leaving every detail of his plan upon Omi’s lips? How foolish he had beenShe shoves his shoulder gently, feigning shock. “You’ve either done something insanely brilliant or incredibly stupid. But I’ve always known you to be far too clever for the latter.”

“Someday…” he slurs, faced resting comfortably on her chest as she stroked the top of his head, his arms wrapped lovingly around her waist. “I’m gonna whisk you away. And just like that, you’ll be mine. Forever and always.”

Omi chuckles at this sentiment— ones she’s heard nearly a dozen times before. She’d had no desire to be one of his pretty things, not by him or any other person in this world for that matter.

“Why, E— I know if that were to occur, you’d be doomed to break my heart.” “Omi, you can’t truly believe that now… can you?” he says tilting his head upwards until their lips are only mere inches apart.

“I’m afraid I do, mi caro. Because the moment in which the magic begins to dwindle from your eyes when you look at me is the moment my heart is sure to break. I know that if we continue our occasional rendezvous that I’ll continue to be the loveliest I could be in your eyes. Oh— and I’m a terribly loud snorer. You wouldn’t sleep a minute in my presence.”

That had been enough to satisfy him, if only for a single moment. The very thought of him truly breaking her heart had been absurd, but the very thought of the blossom mirror cracking, the idea of her carefully constructed persona being exposed for being exactly that, alarmed her. Anything short of near perfection was unacceptable. She owed her to that and Mona. It would be at that moment that Omi would understand that she was no longer as good at her job as she needed to be. Surely that would not leave them desolate, they would still be a top-performing Sparrow after all. But they would no longer be the best, and no man or woman would ever take that away from them. Even if they meant keeping the majority of the world at a safe distance. Not when they’d finally found their people. Not when they’d finally answered their calling. Not when Verona was finally starting to feel like home.

Little did she know that this would be the last time she’d ever see Patron E. Just as she’d suspected, the information had been of immense value. Her reputation as the top Sparrow only increased tenfold, and she remained in Mona’s good graces, never tiring of her constant praise and doting. Word of his death returned to them from another one of their patrons even before it appeared even in the papers. Omi couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for his widow and children. No woman and family should have their livelihood threatened by the likes of a stupid, stupid, stupid man.

She did not wear Q’s dress after that day. When she asked about it the next time he saw her, she began whispering a delightful tale about how her suitcase had mysteriously wound up missing upon returning from a brief trip to Paris, knowing she’d wind up with a new one before the conversation concluded…

[ardenssolis]

@tenkoseiensei​​ said (inbox): 

‘is there a feeling to it?’ downtime during a mission and the assassin is still undercover, words spilling out from the 'master's' mouth as they linger together. ‘power or success, i mean. even after everything i’ve lived through, i still feel weak. or maybe it’s just fear ... when i think about how uncertain things are, how big everything really is, or how much bigger things are in comparison to me, i can’t help but feel fragile. pharaoh, if i were as strong as you, would this fear go away?’

     GOLDEN EYES PEERED OFF into the distance watching the slow descent of a fading sun quietly, the chaos of the day beginning to leave with it. Vibrant, warm colors that always spread across the sky as that light softened was as much comfort as the gleaming of stars and the rising of a pale moon. The sky, he found as a child, could soothe even the most chaotic of hearts. No matter the time of day, if one stopped and looked up towards it, all else seemed to melt away – unimportant in the face of something so grand and beautiful. It was then that the Master’s voice cut through the relative silence, Ozymandias not turning his head to fully look at the other, but just enough to show that he had heard them as they approached to stand by his side. ❝Mm…that is because you are weak.❞ It was a blunt reply – cruel, even. However, that was not all that Ozymandias wished to say to the other. Without seeing their expression, he looked back into the distance.

     ❝Your magic is still subpar, and yet…you have improved far more than most might have thought. No doubt you were stumbling along like a fawn on its own; terrified of all that was thrust upon you each and every Singularity. The death, the chaos, the odds that seemed almost impossible… That must have been stifling. If we, at any time, were to separate from you, chances of your survival would dwindle.❞ There was a slight pause – only slight as he glanced over towards the other with an expression difficult to read. ❝Even with all that in mind, you still kept going. Those legs might have shaken as you struggled, nightmares might have plagued you in the dead of night where none could see…but you have yet to stop moving. That is strength worth acknowledging.❞ For as long as the Master did not give up, Ozymandias would continue to stay with them until the very end. He loathed weakness, but it was a certain kind.

     ❝You can admit that you are afraid while many will refuse the very thought. They will say they cannot feel fear as they stand against that great, oncoming wave, lying to themselves, and lying to others in hope that they too see this illusion as well. You, at least, are honest in your admittance, taking note that it is there, then doing what needs to be done anyway.❞ A soft chuckle escaped him, lips curling into the slightest smirk of amusement. ❝Ahahaha, the downside of being strong from the very beginning, is the moment you are made to feel weak, you are reminded your strength cannot do everything. It is from there you become so afraid that you do not know what to do with yourself. So, be afraid, Magus, but keep doing what you have been doing. If you lost all fear, you would no longer be the person you are now.❞

[chibikinesis]

Do you know a good ways to stop feeling guilty about not having any motivation to do things you want to do? (Due to my depression taking a turn for the worst I haven't played animal crossing in a week and I feel bad about it.)

Honestly, I've been fighting with that feeling myself for most of the year (hence very little art or writing you guys have seen from me). I wish I had good advice to give. It's a really tough spot to be in, but it's nothing you should feel guilty about. This year has been a tough one, for sure. It's hard to motivate or to get oneself out of a slump when some new big, scary thing is waiting right around the corner to sucker punch us the minute we start feeling like our old selves in the midst of all this chaos. A lot of folks o know are more prone to anxiety and depression this year because it's just been relentless, and it sucks to see so many people going through this.

So if anyone has any advice on this matter, please feel free to send it to me or to leave it in a reply oTL

All I can really offer right now is to just take care of yourself and take the time you need. Distance yourself from some social medias if you feel like overstimulation is a factor in it, or if you feel it's necessary. The line between staying informed and keeping your mental health intact is currently a very thin one, so do what you need to do. If that's the case, maybe substitute that time with tv or movies that are usually comforting to you. Rest up. Try to get yourself back to a better headspace if you can. Your mental health is more important, and the game will most definitely be there when you're ready to pick it back up. And my inbox is always open (here or even on discord if you prefer and are comfortable with that) if you need to vent ♥️

Take care of yourself 💕

[starunicornmoon]

A Scared Kiss

A/N: So this was a prompt in my tumblr inbox from an Affectionate Moments meme that was trending at the time. I wrote this before my daughter was born and somehow forgot about it! Needless to say I’m quite rusty in the writing department not having the time or inclination until recently to write at all. But I’ve got the bug now and I just want to write allll the time. Even if its total drivel. So apologies for any grammar/spelling mistakes. I’m uploading this before I bottle it or my toddler wakes up. Whatever comes first.

A Scared Kiss

The fine ash that was flurrying through the air and covering anything and everything around me on the battlefield made me choke and cough, my lungs burning with each breath I tried to take in. Tiny fire tipped needles pierced the inside of my neck and chest, my weak body heaving for oxygen. My eyes watered from the toxic embers dusting my eyes as I clumsily tried to wipe it free from my face. It was no good though, there was just too much of it. Too much destruction, too much taken away from us … Too much death surrounding me now.

Too much …

“Ames,” Sonic coughed near me, his normally strong, confident voice now sounding as weak and fragile as I felt.

I closed my eyes against the new onslaught of tears that had nothing to do with the ash in my eyes. If Sonic the Hedgehog, hero of Mobius, nemesis to Eggman could sound that weak then I knew it really was the end of everything. The end of Mobius, the end of foiling all of his half-hearted, hair-brained ploys of world domination. The end of us - the team that always saves the day, even in the nick of time with just seconds on the doomsday clock daring us to defy it. Because this time that clock had ticked past the final hour and had already started ticking into a different time. A time that would no longer include me, Knuckles, Tails, even Sonic.

Where did it all go so wrong? What didn’t we do to prevent this? We always win, we’re the good guys! It’s the way it’s always been …

Until Eggman went from a little bit loony to full on crazy and the Chaos Emeralds fed that insanity to the point of where we are now. Scattered around a battlefield too painful to stare upon with the hedgehog I have loved for so long - too long - somewhere near me sounding as though even he, the strongest one of us all, had finally given up. Because if the blue blur has stopped believing, stopped fighting, then I have to. It’s not as though Eggman really gave us much choice in the matter I guess. Most, if not all of the people I cared about and fought alongside have either scattered to the far reaches of Mobius to hide - what little good that will do them long-term - or they’re somewhere on this battlefield, breathing their last.

And here I am, burying my head in my dirty, cut and bloody arms because I couldn’t bear to look in Sonic’s direction and see the end.

Even if part of me wanted to go to sleep forever with the last image being of staring into his clear green eyes.

I coughed again, my whole body wracking with painful sobs because it just hurt so goddamn much to breath. My torn hands clawed at the black dirt, the substance coarse and brittle in my fingers. Eggman did this, destroyed the world so he could build his Eggman empire on the ashes of the dead, of the fallen heroes. But who is he going to rule now with the worlds population so dangerously low that you could only say extinction is on the near horizon? If I thought I had the energy I would have stood up and told Eggman just what I thought of him, one last time. Maybe even thrown a hammer at him for old times sake. But as another cough ended with blood splattering in droplets across the ground I knew that would never happen.

When did I become so tired? When did it become so hard to keep my eyes open?

“Amy,” I heard my name whispered again, stirring me from the light daze I slipped in to. “Ames, come back.”

Cracking my eyes open, the grit coating my lashes making them feel so heavy, I painfully turned my head to the side to make out the blurry, dishevelled figure of Sonic crawling on his hands and knees towards me. What was he doing, I wondered? Where was he finding the strength? The closer he got the more the blur morphed into a single figure and I could see him better. I winced, seeing the partly dried blood down one side of his face from a gash on his head. Surely he has some kind of concussion, the nurse in me queried. I stupidly thought how he shouldn’t be moving with a head injury that bad.

It was enough to force me to pull my shaking arms and legs up underneath me until I was sitting up properly, breathing heavy as if I’d just run with all my strength to keep up with the fastest thing alive. I didn’t have the energy to wipe the grimy clammy sweat off my forehead, let alone question just how badly I looked as Sonic stopped in front of me, his chest heaving heavier than mine. Like moving through syrup I reached out a hand and laid it over Sonic’s, squeezing once with what little power I had for that one small movement.

But I was rewarded with the ghost of a smile I used to see a long time ago, before the war began. Even now, with so much annihilation around me it made my heart thrum in my chest, a small, answering smile accompanying his.

When it seemed he had enough breath to move, he collapsed into a sitting position beside me and I was able to look at him a little closer. His eyes were too glazed, I realised; his pallor too pale. So Eggman really had managed it at last; he’d finally gotten his ultimate goal, the destruction of Sonic - slow and painful as it was. As tired and tormented as I felt, tears fell from my eyes anyway. Dropping into my lap with big fat plops, darkening into splotches that blended in with the rest of the torn, dirty patches on me. I didn’t care anymore, I didn’t care if Sonic saw me cry, saw me giving up. Me, Amy Rose. The most optimistic one of us all.

What else did I have to hide from him? We’ve literally seen each other at our best and now, at our very worst, lowest points in our lives. Pride was long gone. That disappeared the moment we lost our first friend to Eggmans insanity.

“Aw, Ames,” Sonic rasped, his brow furrowing causing more blood to ooze from his wound. He didn’t seem to care, or maybe he just didn’t feel it trickling down his face. I was still waiting for that numbness to take me over - I welcomed it.

Before today I would have looked away from the knowing look in his eyes as he gazed at me. A girl has to keep some secrets, right? But yesterday was a different day and today is the last so I didn’t. I stayed there, gazing right back the tears still running down my sooty face and dropping to my lap where the hand that wasn’t holding on to Sonics rested limply. I didn’t hide anything from him, I let him see right through me.

“I’m so scared, Sonic,” I croaked, struggling to not cough with each word. Everything was starting to become severe effort - trying to find the right words, bracing myself with each indrawn breath of contaminated air. But as I spoke I realised how true they were, how scared I was.

But not for myself. I was scared for him, for whoever is left to run from Eggman, for what comes next.

I’m scared because for once, we weren’t enough.

Sonic bowed his head a little acknowledging what I was saying and what I wasn’t. His glazed eyes darkened slightly with anger and sorrow. The mirrored emotions flitting across his face one after another as he gripped my hand a little bit tighter. Over time he’s learnt to read me as easily as I have him without the need for words. I’m going to miss that, I’m going to miss him and that terrifies me more than anything Eggman has done to us now.

“Me too,” Sonic whispered and his words didn’t surprise me one bit.

I could feel it, I could feel our time slipping away from us and my heart rate sped up even more in fear. We couldn’t look away from each other, we both felt it, we knew it as though the flames of destruction were warming our backs already, the end roaring closer and closer demeaning our heartbeats and our words if we spoke any. Our unconnected hands found the space between us without breaking eye contact, our bodies moving closer to each other as the fear overtook the pain riddling my body and replaced it with shadows that had me seeking out my hero one last time for safety.

Our lips came together in a slightly clumsy rush, the taste of copper from my blood or his filling my mouth but I ignored it as I sought out what I was looking for in Sonic. Protection from my fear, reassurance that it’s going to be OK even as I kissed him in a way that told him the same way. Our lips moved in a dance that has never been practiced, my first and last kiss with Sonic the Hedgehog on the ashes of a battlefield as our ends were getting closer and closer to us. I sighed at the feel of his lips pressed against mine, the magic of feeling my fear subside a tiny bit as a strong hand cupped my face.

We bared our souls to one another in that one last act, even as my hands clutched on to the soft fur of his arms to steady myself as his kiss swept away the last vestiges of pain and allowed me to lose myself to my hero. Our kiss subsided enough to stay as a prolonged meeting of lips as tears ran freely from my closed eyes. Sonic’s thumb lazily stroked across my cheek as he held me and we saw with our eyes closed that blinding flash of light that meant our time was finally up.

But I felt no fear. Only the comforting press of Sonic’s lips pressed against mine, carrying me away…

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

When We Were on Fire

Hey everyone! Here’s part VIII for the Chaos and the Calm series! I wasn’t planning on having it out this early, but I finished it and wanted to get it out to y’all as soon as I could! As always, don’t forget to like and reblog- it lets me know you’re loving reading the series as much as I am writing it! And please always feel free to pop into my inbox about WHATEVER, series-related or not! Here’s the chapter, please enjoy!

When We Were on Fire

January 2020

Head down, headed underground feeling wasted/Cold to the bone, so alone I can taste it

“Hey, Alex, are you feeling okay? You don’t look so good.” The voice of Ryan, one of Alex’s coworkers and friends, snapped her out of the trance-like state she had lulled herself into.

She blinked a few times, nodding. “Yeah, thanks for asking. I’ve just been super tired lately. Trying to work out times to FaceTime and call Harry when he’s on the other side of the world takes a lot out of me, you know? The only time I can get him when I’m not at work is really late at night, and it’s been pretty rough.”

“Yeah, I can get how that would be draining,” he responded.

“Enough about me, you don’t really want to hear about my problems,” Alex said with a chuckle. “How are you and Noah? Wedding’s next Saturday, yeah? What time do you think we should get there?” Deflecting was a long-time bad habit of Alex’s. She did genuinely care about the wedding, and did want to know what time she and Harry, who was returning later that week, should show up. That being said, talking about herself had never been her strong suit, and she sometimes struggled to accept that people were genuinely interested in what she had to say.

“5 or so? Ceremony starts at 6, that would give you plenty of time to find seats and settle in.” Ryan’s eyes narrowed slightly; he could tell that something was off, but didn’t want to pry. That was one of Alex’s favorite things about him, he didn’t push something when it was obvious that she didn’t want to talk about it. But the same thing that she loved about him could also prove unhelpful at times. Sometimes what she needed was a friend who would push her when she didn’t want to bring something up.

Alex huffed as she opened the door to her and Harry’s apartment, hefting her backpack onto the couch and heading to the kitchen. She had been feeling dizzy for the past week or so, something that generally happened right before her period. Grabbing a glass from the drying rack, she opened the fridge, pouring herself water and pulling out a container of leftover Chinese from the night before. “It’ll be fine cold,” she muttered, grabbing a pair of chopsticks and sticking them in haphazardly. Fifteen minutes later, she had finished, and turned on the TV to watch the news. It didn’t hold her attention for long, and as the clock struck nine, she turned it off, heading into the bedroom to go to sleep. It wasn’t uncommon for her to stay up past midnight, particularly on nights when she talked to Harry, but she was absolutely exhausted and couldn’t stay up any longer. Sorry if I miss a call, love. Not feeling well, so I’m going to bed now. Alex sent a text to Harry, hoping he wouldn’t be too disappointed.

Grimacing, Alex rolled over in bed, pressing her phone screen to get the blaring alarm to cease. Throwing the covers off, she padded out to the kitchen. Yesterday’s headache persisted, so she opened the bottle of Tylenol kept on the counter and swallowed a pill, opening the pantry. She really didn’t have much time to eat, so two slices of toast were it. Checking her phone, she saw a text sent by Harry late last night. Don’t worry about it, love. Feel better, and go to the doctor if it doesn’t get better, okay? Grabbing her backpack and MetroCard, she sent a text back. Will do.

Walking into her office, she saw Ryan at his usual spot in the desk next to hers. He raised a hand in greeting. “Feeling better?”

She wiggled her hand. “So-so. Headache isn't any better, but I’m a little less tired.”

“Any idea what could be causing it?”

“No clue,” Alex said, exasperation evident in her voice. “Could be my period, but it’s usually not this bad. H made me promise to go to the doctor if it doesn’t get better.”

“Good man,” Ryan said with a smile.

“The best.”

It wasn’t until three days later, when Alex was working on a new project, that she considered it could be something else. While adjusting the font size on the logo for a new maternity boutique in Midtown, the wheels turned in her head and her finger froze above the trackpad of her laptop. Oh shit. Oh shit. Pulling out her phone, she quickly navigated to her and Julia’s texts, shooting her a quick message. Hey Jules, I need a favor.

Drifting apart, getting harder to hold you/Days getting dark and the nights are growing cold/Are we burning out?/Swept out of sight, rolling out on an ocean/Let's cut all the ropes and get lost in the moment/If our hearts are alive, maybe then they might/Send us back to the sun

With Julia’s bag shoved hastily in her backpack, she unlocked the door. Five minutes and one glass of water later, the door once again jiggled, causing waves of concern to run through Alex’s mind. They were alleviated, for the most part, upon seeing that it was none other than Harry walking through the door. “I thought you were coming in later?” Alex asked, confused. “I would have picked you up from the airport.”

Harry dropped his duffel bag on the floor, clearly exhausted. “Flight got in earlier than I thought, didn’t want to bother you.”

She couldn’t decipher the tone of his voice, unsure if it was meant as caring or annoyed. “H, I’ve got something we should talk about.”

Signing, he ran one hand through his slightly-tangled hair. “Can it wait until later, Alex? I’m ridiculously jetlagged.”

Alex picked at her nails. “I don’t think so. It’s important.”

“How important can it really be?” Harry asked, raising his voice. “I’ve been touring for close to a month, have hardly had any time for myself, and now when I finally get a chance to sleep in my own bed and be with my own girlfriend, all she wants to do is talk?”

“It’s important!” She responded, close to tears. She hadn’t been feeling well for a few weeks now, and being the subject of her boyfriend’s frustrations wasn’t doing anything to help the situation. She had learned her lessons from past failed relationships, and they had never really struggled with communication or making feelings known in a constructive and mature way. Fights weren’t really something they did, aside from surface-level spats over who was going to take out the trash or where they were going to go for breakfast. So needless to say, she wasn’t sure what to do, or how to react, or what to say when Harry was acting like this. She knew that he had been travelling for weeks and was incredibly tired, probably wanting nothing more than a good night’s sleep, but sometimes there were things that had to take precedence. And now was one of those times. “It’s important,” she said, quieter this time, voice breaking. A crack in Harry’s tough exterior appeared, and he took a step towards her as if trying to comfort her. “I think I’m pregnant, Harry.”

Out of all the things Harry thought Alex would say, that wasn’t one of them. “Yeh what?” He said, although he had heard her perfectly well. It was like his ears could hear the words, but his brain refused to process them.

“I think I’m pregnant,” Alex repeated.

“How?” Stupid. He wasn’t seven, he knew how.

“Er,” she started, clearly still shaken and trying to collect her thoughts, “I think right towards the beginning of your break before Australia? I think I hadn’t gotten to the chemist to get my birth control refilled yet, so we just used a condom?”

He sat down, trying desperately to comprehend what Alex had just said. “You said you think, have you not taken a test yet?”

She shook her head, fumbling with the buckles on her backpack and pulling out the plastic bag that Julia had picked up from the chemist on her lunch break. “I had Jules pick one up for me. I didn’t know if I could do it myself, and I didn’t want any photos to leak before I got a chance to tell you myself.” She paused, and Harry felt guilty. It was his fault that these were her worries, his fault that she now had to be so concerned about fans and photographers tracking her every move that she couldn’t even go to the chemist without looking over her shoulder. If he was normal, it wouldn’t be like this. If she was dating someone normal, it wouldn’t be like this. “I didn’t want to take it without you. I didn’t want to do it alone.”

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly. “D’you… d’you want to take it now?”

She fiddled with the knot on the plastic bag, pulling out the cardboard box of the pregnancy test. “The sooner we know, the better, I think.” She walked down the hallway to the bathroom, Harry trailing behind her and waiting outside the door. It was the first time he had a chance to be alone after she had told him, the first time he had a chance to process by himself. What would they do if it turned out positive? As if she read his mind, Alex opened the door just then, drying off her hands on the hem of her flannel. “Says it’ll take three minutes. H?” She asked timidly. “What will I… What will we do if it turns up positive?” With that tiny, seemingly inconsequential change in words, Harry was reassured. He may have been scared, she may have been terrified, but they were a team. Had always been a team. Nonetheless, she looked small, and scared, and there was nothing more Harry wanted to do in that moment but comfort her, so that’s what he did. Nestling his chin on top of hers, he responded.

“I don’t know, love. I think we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, if we come to it.” Harry loved kids; that was a given. Two of his best mates had children of their own, and he loved getting to interact with them, and Adam’s kids on tour, and any others he was lucky enough to spent time with. He did want to be a father, someday, but being in the middle of his career, just shy of 26 was not where he anticipated it happening. Practicality-wise, he figured they would probably be able to manage a baby; he certainly had enough money, their apartment had two spare bedrooms, and Alex’s design firm had excellent health insurance. But, perhaps more importantly, he wondered if they were ready, emotionally and psychologically, for a child. And any doubt and stress he was feeling, Harry realized, were more than likely compounded for Alex; it was her body, and Harry knew that the ultimate decision of what to do— if there was anything to do— would be up to her.

Sniffling against his chest, Alex responded in kind. “I really don’t know what to do. This isn’t what I planned for, we’re not even married, I’ve got so much left I want to do before I become a mum…”

Resting one hand around the back of her waist, Harry rubbed the other across her back. “I know, love. I know. I know you’re scared,” he gave a teary chuckle, “and, if I’m honest, I am too. But we’re in this together, you hear me? Whatever it says, we’re in this together.”

She leaned into his touch for a few moments, giving a slight start when the alarm on her phone went off. “Should be ready now,” she murmured, holding onto Harry’s hand like a lifeline. The two tests were face-down on the counter, her hand hovering over them but not touching, like they were a bomb that would explode if she so much as nudged them the wrong way. Each gingerly taking hold of one, they flipped them over.

Negative.

Street's are alive now and everything's bracing/You're on my mind, running in my veins/Fueling the flame, let's start it again

Breathing out an enormous sigh of relief, Alex brought her hands up to her face, letting out a not-so-small sob of relief. “I wasn’t ready to be a mum,” she said through her gasps. “I wasn’t ready.” The four hours where she was in limbo, when she didn’t know if or how her life was going to change, had been some of the most terrifying of her life. Alex, by nature, was a planner. She liked to have a schedule, liked to be prepared, and liked to know what was coming. She was the type of person who had her life mapped out by fifteen, and who hated for anything to disrupt that plan. And being pregnant would have been just about the biggest possible shift in that plan. She didn’t know if she would have continued the pregnancy or not, and she was so grateful she didn’t have to make that decision.

Harry brought a thumb up to the exposed skin of her wrist, rubbing it soothingly. “‘S okay, love. ‘S all okay. We don’t have ‘t dwell on it anymore. We’ll have it all one day— marriage, kids, a house— but it doesn’t have to be now. It doesn’t have to be now.”

Alex looked up at Harry, a bit startled but not surprised. This was the first time he had really spoken, in concrete terms, about his plans for a future together. There had been little bits, of course, passing comments to relatives at dinner and whispered words to the other under the false cover of night, but to hear him speak about a life for the two of them with such finality brought an unexplainable sense of peace and joy to her heart.

Sometime last July, Harry and Alex had taken a trip back to England to visit family. His family liked to do a big picnic-type thing every year for all the relatives in the area, and he had missed it the past two years due to touring and recording. He was free this year, and his mum had insisted he bring along Alex for the festivities. “She’s been a part of the family for fifteen years, Harry,” she had said, “she’s coming.” So they had hopped on a plane to London and driven the rest of the way. It was a bit of a trip but neither of them minded too much, they just rolled down the windows and plugged in the aux cord. Just shy of four hours later, they pulled into Harry’s childhood home, with Anne coming out to greet them.

A few hours later, everyone had unpacked and were settled in, and the couple went out to the backyard, where twenty-odd relatives, most of whom Alex recognized, were gathered. After greeting a few cousins and catching up with one of his uncles, Harry’s grandmother walked up to the couple. Smiling warmly, she said, “Anne had told me you two had finally gotten together. I’m glad to see it, I always did see it coming,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Have you two given any thought to where this might be going— marriage, kids?” Alex blinked a few times, thankful when Harry picked up the conversation.

“Nan!” He groaned slightly, taking Alex’s hand by way of apology. “Just because you and Grandad got married after knowing each other a year doesn’t mean that’s how it’s done anymore.”

“But—”

“Yes, nan, okay? That’s where it’s headed.”

There was something comforting about those memories, something nice about knowing that both she and Harry were genuinely in it for the long term. Looking back at her, Harry spoke, choosing his words carefully. “I’m sorry that I snapped at you love, you didn’t deserve that. I was tired and fed up and drained, but it didn’t do any good to let it out on you. It wasn’t right to let it out on you.”

“You’re not perfect, H.” Alex said. “You’re human, and sometimes you’ll say or do the ‘wrong’ thing. You don’t have to carry the whole world on your shoulders, and I wouldn’t want you to.

Harry kissed her forehead. “You’re out of my league, aren’t you?

“Very.”

[simmyshuno]

I’ll be quite honest. I’m terrible at being in communities.

This is a huge TLDR/personal post and seriously, you can ignore. That’s not some manipulation tactic. It’s here for people who want to know genuinely why I keep coming/going the last two years and where my inconsistency is coming from, as well as why I run headfirst into the community and then just disappear without warning.

Sims posts will follow. This is just something I felt I needed to talk about. In short: yes I’m fine. Yes I’m handling things well. No I don’t need crisis care. I’m actually doing well considering. Sims has always been my go-to comfort. I didn’t know about the community until I met @invadersim many moons ago on LiveJournal, and Tumblr was in it’s infancy. As well as the things mentioned under the cut, I also feel like I’ve withdrawn from social media a lot since I turned 30 (I’m 31 now). I just stopped needing to belong and sort of settled in where I was at. Like I said, Sims have been my comfort. Sometimes I sit on Facetime with another IRL friend who also Sims and we just chat like one would on Skype only with our games running and Facetime going on our iPads. It’s fun. She discovered my game is utter chaos incarnate while she micromanages everything. She likes hearing me talk about my builds. I like hearing about the random TV show characters in her game that she tosses in (like the shenanigans her Dean Winchester Sim gets up to). Sims, to me, is ‘home’. The place you return to on holidays when you’ve been away to school or the warm cup of tea waiting for you during a cold, snowy day. Sims is my home away from home - when other games have frustrated me, or when my mental health is doing poorly and I either cannot focus on anything or I’m too depressed or anxious to do much at all. Which, leads into the TLDR portion.

So my last time posting was August I believe. I had just installed TS4 for the first time and was leery. I’ll say this now: I fucking love TS4 and probably won’t go back to fix my TS3 game ever to play it. It became my new go-to comfort and I’m loving that I am still learning things about TS4 that I didn’t already know. With TS3, I knew so much about the game that it started to become boring. I was always adding mods and CC and then just doing the same old boring shit in my games.

Right now I don’t have “Cats and Dogs” but I have everything else, so it’s forcing me to play the rest of the game without the addition of pets. It’s nice. I also don’t use much CC and I have only one core mod in my game (I don’t even use MC right now). It’s just nice playing a completely vanilla game. I can think of a dozen things I want to recolor (and thanks to @blindingechoes teaching me now, I likely will sometime early 2018) but otherwise I’m enjoying things again: enjoying building. Enjoying the gameplay. Enjoying how smoothly things run. But that’s not really why I’m posting. I’ve had my inbox filled with worried messages and I want to address things for those who don’t have me on Facebook already.

Yes I’ve been dealing with a malignant narcissist and yes this person was once a close friend, and yes I knew they truly had diagnosed sociopath behaviors but I also knew them for so long that I had the totally naive thought of it could never be me. The thing with abuse is, the second you think that? It’s likely already too late. I should’ve seen things coming and I didn’t until it was too much at once and I decided to cut this person out (their version of the story is that they cut me out first which is not true, and I have ‘receipts’ to prove this).

This person did truly heinous things to me between the end of January 2017 until October 2017, when things finally stopped. I won’t get into major detail (though this post is marked so anyone browsing in safe mode won’t get to see it, I feel a lot of people following me are slightly younger and I don’t feel anyone really needs to know details) but some of the things done to me over nine months were: having my personal info (name, address, phone number, mother’s name - who is sick (she’s had many strokes and lives with me so I can take care of her) - as well as her personal number posted (ie, doxxing) online to a website which is notorious for some crimes in the past (members who met up and literally plotted to kill their families and succeeded). It’s home to a lot of skeevy, disgusting people and this person literally outed my personal information to thousands of people who are potentially dangerous.

From that moment on I spent three months having child pornography, gore porn/snuff, gory images of dead animals and the type of stuff you’d find on Rotten or Ogrish on my damn phone - being texted daily - by throwaway numbers. I reported this to my phone company and blocked all the numbers I could but it didn’t stop. I did everything I could but in the end I was the one who was losing their phone service as a result of “breaching telecommunications laws” and had to pay a fine of 400-something dollars (I forget the exact amount, I do have copies of the legal docs though), as well as paying to have my phone turned back on.

I acquired paperwork for a restraining order but couldn’t serve it until recently. I have been working with a defamation and libel lawyer pro bono to get this person to leave me alone. They’ve made threats to “skin my cat”, to “throw acid on me in the street” as well as to have one of their junkie friends who is HIV positive “throw their used needles at them like darts”. I have copies of the messages where these discussions and plans were made.

Cops most definitely were notified. It has been a huge drawn out process and they’re basically claiming they’re “mentally ill and won’t go to jail” even though they’ve been harassing and abusing me for nine months straight. There is so much more than what I posted above but needless to say, when this all became really freaking bad I just left the internet. I stopped posting on a lot of places and that was when I came back to the Simblr community then promptly left again.

Around this time I started prepping for Preptober which is the month of October where those of us who do Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) start prepping for November and our novel. On October 29th, right before the Kick Off party our Nanowrimo region holds, our ML (Municipal Liaison) -and close friend of mine- was found at his home unresponsive by another writer friend and after being taken to hospital by them, was found to have three brain tumors. The primary cancer ended up being in his kidneys (three more tumors) and the secondary cancer was the tumors in his brain. He went for surgery immediately and his current treatment is radiation as palliative care. I don’t think I need to explain more where this is going.

November was busy as I had to step up as ML and run a region of 200 writers where we had write-in’s (where you go to write with a group of Wrimos, or what we call Nanowrimo participants) leaving me running these groups 6 days a week (I took one day off) from 6-9pm and sometimes two in a day (9am-12pm, then 6pm-9pm). I have severe agoraphobia and social anxiety so you can imagine how difficult this was. While mentally and physically exhausting (it also screwed with my sleep schedule which is already a mess from a sleep disorder) it was one of the best November’s I had in awhile because I had always wanted to be ML but it was legit so fucking exhausting I had no time for anything else.

No gaming. No Sims. No social media. Nothing. Things have sort of evened out now but since it’s December I’m back to feeling irrevocably depressed (holidays always do that as I’m 1) poor, literally at the poverty line despite being on disability so I can’t afford anything for myself or others at Christmas and this also means no celebrations with dinner or decorations because all of my money is spoken for. As well I have no where to go/no family to be with.

Secondly, I’m finally catching up on the screwed up sleep schedule of November. As a result I’m sleeping 20 hours a day sometimes. I’m awake maybe 10-12 hours and back to sleep again. It’s terrible. I also had walking pneumonia all of November and I’m still sick from that. It’s a huge clusterfuck and things were just terrible. If it wasn’t for coping skills from CBT and DBT I seriously don’t know how I would’ve managed the last year.

ON THE PLUS THOUGH - even though this month is hell and I’ve no where to go, I’m playing the Sims again and plan to post screenshots and random things and re-engage with the community as much as possible. If you read it this far, you’re awesome and thank you.

In terms of uploads and such, I won’t have anything for awhile. I’m using a pirated copy of the game as I have no way to buy it online from Origin (I’ve no money to be spending on gifts and I don’t expect it as a gift or anything so it’s not likely something I’ll be owning legitimately for quite some time). The game version I have doesn’t get updated often and I don’t want to risk breaking my game and having to do a huge re-install just to add “Cats and Dogs” as well as game client updates so I can’t be sure anything I create or recolor will work with your guys’ games. 

Thanks for sticking around and sorry to keep leaving but hopefully this gives some idea of why I’ve just not been around and neglected things.

[nighttimelights-prompted]

UF!Sans x reader arguing because Red has feelings towards the reader, but refuses to act out on it because he's afraid that he'll ruin/taint them, therefore trying to distance himself from the reader (who he was once close with), although the reader doesn't know why Red's pushing them away, therefore starting an argument. (I'm really sorry if there's anything about this that doesn't make sense, I worded it oddly)

(not to worry, i think it made perfect sense! though i suppose we’ll see if i interpreted the way you meant it. i’ve also got a couple more prompts in my inbox now, so thank you so much for those sweet people who sent in something! still open and accepting prompts and imagines, so let me know if you’d like something, ya cuties.)

(… and i suppose i would be remiss if i didn’t give a head’s up: prepare for at least a few feelings ahead. though perhaps someone would like to send in a follow up prompt with a way to continue/wrap this~?)

The low revving of your motorcycle was a purr compared to the gutteral roar that Red’s always held, but you still felt the blow of its noise in its loss when you cut off the engine.

Even when you tugged off your helmet, shaking your hair free quickly as you scanned the line of the rooftop above, the silence suffocated you. It was wrong, and every fiber of your being felt it; even in the dead of night, if you were here, your motorcycle parked alongside Red’s as it was now, the hilltop should be ringing with his brash, low laughter, curving around your own until the tears pooled at the corners of your eyes.

Heat prickled wetness at the corners now, but you blinked them away harshly as you caught sight of the bulky silhouette on a distant corner of the rooftop. You slung your leg over and dismounted, leaving your helmet propped on your bike. No one would steal it - there wasn’t another soul around for miles.

It was the quick work of minutes to find your way to the roof access ladder, grappling the side of it for the first 10 feet where the rungs were blocked by a locked safety panel. Your leather gloves gripped the edge of the building as you hauled yourself over, boot meeting concrete edging with the same confidence and anger you hoped you could hold up until he could get an earful from you.

Or a skull-full, you guessed.

It was naturally the opposite side of the building he was standing at. The bastard would’ve heard you coming for a mile, could’ve left if he wanted, but damn if he wasn’t still going to be just that much farther. You vaulted over the varying heights of the roof, easily avoiding the enormous dome of glass that sat over the gazing room. You let your anger fuel you, trying to focus on those roiling feelings and not the way you could feel your phone burning awareness in your mind from deep in your pocket, smoking figuratively with the echoing shots of your cracking heart.

“OY, RED!”

That’s it, let the anger keep your voice steady-

“WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”

You were almost on him now, the gentle light of the half-moon and stars silhouetting him and the roof in washed-out tones. The absurd fluff of his hood was spiked around his skull, his hands tucked into his pockets. The jacket actually looked… zipped up, for once. A small line of smoke drifted upwards from the line of fur.

“WHO- Wh-who do you think you are, sending me a goddamn text like that?” You reached his side at last, but quickly looked down to try and grasp at the anger draining out of you. “What kind of asshole leaves a text like that - ‘don’t bother textin me again, i’m done with this’? Out of fucking nowhere?” You resisted the urge to stomp your foot, but just barely. Instead you quickly grabbed at your phone, the leather of your gloves catching on your tight pocket for just a moment. You didn’t even bother unlocking it, but waved it towards him for extra effect. “You gonna give me some kinda explanation, or what?”

Sure, try and reason, that may hold back the prickling feeling in your chest. Your fingers gripped a little tighter at your phone as you waited for something from him.

You got a shrug.

“The fuck,” you said.

You got another shrug. The fluff seemed to stay a little higher this time at the end of the motion. Or was his head a little lower?

You bit down your inclination to swear again. “Red, c’mon man, give me something. If I did fuck up, fine, but I can’t figure it out or make it right on my own. Or is something going down? Why’re you pushing me away, after all the shit we’ve stuck through together?” Your voice cracked. Your mouth twisted in a grimace, but you didn’t try to restate it.

The twisting in your chest was only worsening with his silence.

It was a quick gambit you ran through some dark labyrinth in your mind in the next few moments. That stark first memory hit you - coming across him beat to hell and back in that alleyway almost a year ago, cornered by a handful of supremacist asswipes wielding knives and spiked bats, waving what you immediately recognized as a “Anti-Magic Security Affective Field of Energy” - AMSAFE, the shit had been named - and drawing closer, one of them raising their bat above their head. Red had wiped a line of glowing red liquid from his mouth and stood a little taller, and had grunted out a goddamned pun - “guess ‘m up to bat, huh?” - before you had slammed a stray pipe into the side of the bat wielder’s kneecaps. The chaos that had ensued ended with you slinging Red’s arm over your shoulders and hauling him to his favorite bar despite your judgement, the alley behind you echoing with “i’d offer to lend ya a hand, doll, but ya’ve got my whole arm already.” Fast forward to the next week, finding him in another alleyway, surrounded by a bigger group - then another week, again, before the next day you tracked him down through his flaming friend of a bartender and tried to get some answers. None of which you got, of course, but it ended in you getting his number, and vice versa - soon you were getting him human intel on the supremacists no monster could easily come across, which eventually spun into late nights spent trading jokes and stories, then meeting his terrifying and hilariously secret-sweet edgelord of a brother, then getting looped into movie nights with his handful of friends, and races under the rising moon through the hillside, and slow but growing insights into the hell they had all been through Underground as you leaned against his side, both your legs dangling off this very building, smoke drifting lazily between you-

“Give me… give me something, Red,” you said quietly, your voice strained.

He remained quiet and still for a few more moments, before shrugging again and twisting just a little further away from you.

“meant what i said, that’s fuckin’ all.”

You snapped.

In a blink, your hands were fisted in the fur of his coat. Your mind registered the plastic clatter of your phone striking the rooftop as you stepped to get in front of him.

“That’s fucking bullshit!”

Heat spiked at the corners of your eyes, but you ignored it.

He was taller than you by at least a few inches, something that normally made you feel a strange kind of safe and comforted, but right now it was just pissing you off as you tried to drag him down to no avail. “You’ve been acting weird for a few days now, and all I goddamn did earlier was send you a message asking if you wanted me to grab you a burger from Grillbz - and then, then you send me that-! After nothing, no signs! Hell, we just hung out this past goddamn weekend-!” Your face was already red, but you weren’t sure if you would’ve flushed further or drawn up tears faster if you lingered on the memory, on the way you had woken up on his couch, your head resting in his lap with one of his hands tangled gently in your hair, having slumped over at some point while watching Edge’s robot friend on TV. You refused to linger there though - no, your words were furious, but you were worried, the moment striking harsh and cold in contrast to your burning eyes, your reddened skin.

Not that you didn’t want to shake sense into him regardless of your concern, but if he would just explain, maybe you could knock that bit of sense into him and then end up laughing this off-

“finally got some time to think, that’s all. really was a bonehead to not acknowledge it sooner. we’re just different, too different.” His words were gravelly and plain. A clove cigarette, the same kind he had switched to some six months ago, hung from his teeth. The smell was almost nostalgic; coupled with the setting and the way his hood caught the distant light of the night sky, it dropped stones into your gut as you better caught his expression.

The twist to his mouth wasn’t the usual cocky smirk you had come to love more than you’d ever admitted. No, there was a wry sneer pulling his mouth to the side, just barely there.

It stabbed through you harder than his words.

“we had some alright times, i guess. but i’m done with it. done with ya gettin’ into tr- into knowing monsters an’ shit, shit that ain’t ever gonna work out. ain’t worth losin’ my head over.”

You finally registered the dead, dull light to his normally shining eyelights. Rather than a bright crimson, they were dimmed to a cruel crimson. Your grip slackened, but you refused to let go yet.

“Red, you’re - you’re full of shit. More than usual. Seriously, what the fuck is going on?” You tilted your head just slightly, your fists managing to grip a little again. Your brows had drawn down, and you swallowed to push away the rawness building in you.

One of his hands, broad and boney, swept upwards and brushed one of your arms away with frustrating ease. “i don’t wanna keep repeatin’ myself, here.” He closed his eyes and turned from you, wresting your other hand free as he pocketed his once more.

“I can protect myself, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you said, your voice scratching as the anger bubbled desperately in you.

He made a strange sound - you couldn’t quite see his face, and you couldn’t find the way to move your feet to get in front of him again. “yeah, sure. ya sure proved it.”

“... I know you’re better than this.”

The sound this time was a scoff, clear but for the muffle of his hood. “like i said, too different. ya won’t - wouldn’t understand.”

Your hands balled into fists at your side. Your cheeks chilled with a breeze that passed by, the line of tears running down them drying cold and tight.

“Yeah, I won’t lie. I don’t understand this, Red. I thought I got you, and I thought you got me… and y’know?” You laughed, once, short, choked. “I still think I do. So yeah, alright.”

You turned on your heel, the moonlight a gentle glow on one half of your face.

“We’re done, then, I guess.”

You didn’t wait for another response as you strode back across the rooftop.

Your motorcycle was alone in the parking lot by the time you reached it.

(... well, i warned you.)

(... anybody want me to continue this one? i might do a part two, leave me an ask if you’ve got something in mind or just a desire to find out what happens