#…it’s either the weather or…finally processing the stress this has had me under for over a year

[void-tiger]

…I need to stop waiting for you to either apologize or ask for an explanation. Or send your own damn meme. I already know deep down it’s not going to happen. Even though you’ve acted outside my (actually low, negative) expectations before.

[kusagrasskusa]

Michael Myers X Short! Reader - Part 2

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N was in the kitchen, preparing to make a chocolate shake because, uh, chocky shakes are quite scrumptious if I do say so myself, and I do say so. She grabbed the stool next to the small island in the kitchen and used it to get on top of the counter. She clicked her tongue, keeping her mind on her surroundings in case her roommate, Michael, were to teleport through sheer force of will and pull her down. But she didn't hear him coming.

Y/N grabbed the blender and looked around the room to make sure her stool wasn't moved when she wasn't looking. When Michael would do that, she'd fall down since it's like walking down the stairs but missing a step, making you fall down and lose your will to breath. Of course, Y/N should be smart enough to just look down or get down slowly to see if the stool is there, but that solution would be too simple and intelligent for the likes of this story.

Y/N got off the counter and kicked the stool off the side, looking around more. "Huh,"she clicked her tongue, shrugging off her paranoia. She plugged in the blender and grabbed the ice cream tub she got earlier, scooping some out and putting it in the cup of the blender. She hummed to herself as she poured in milk and whatever toppings she wanted, like oreos or something.

It was about 8am, meaning it was almost time for her to go to work. Usually Michael would be watching tv, doing something out back, or whatever else he does, but she strangely couldn't find him. It was weird for him to just be missing. But to be fair, he's an adult who can leave whenever we he wants.

I sighed, as I turned on the blender, my eyes turning dull from boredom. It felt like a weight was put on her shoulders from the disappointment, but at least getting to work on time would be easier. Michael wasn't used to a modern day home so I would usually have to go on a rundown of things to and not to do before I left. A smile lifted my face as I think back, simultaneously pouring the shake into a cup and putting it in my fridge for now.

I take a large breath again before heading to my room, pushing the door open with a silent squeak coming from it. It smelled like slight dust which kinda makes since because who the hell has time to clean anything, am I right? No one, because this story takes place in America and anyone who's lives in a different country before being here can tell you that a lot for us are depressed because America is designed to be repeatative. Like, can we please do anything other than wake up, work, go watch TV at home, then sleep? Can we have a week long festival instead of getting drunk and shooting fireworks one day in July?

I shake the thoughts that suddenly appeared in my head off, sighing as I walked to my closet. "I need to take schizophrenia pills, I swear," I mumble as I pull open the sliding door— "Yo, what the hell!-"

There the skyscraper was, right in the middle of the same closet where I keep my hoodies. He stared at me for a good four seconds, a dull expression but anyone can tell from the look in his eye that he was shookyth. Probably because he didn't his mask on but who knows.

It was a great battle honestly; as soon as I realized he was maskless, I pulled my phone out quickly for a picture, but he ran at me and took the phone away. Obviously, I wasn't gonna let that slide so I did what anyone would in the situation; kick them in the shjn because that's what everyone was thinking,  right? He reactively brought his hands down fast a protection reflex, giving me enough time to grab his hand.

His grip was stronger than the strength of flex tape however, so I couldn't pull it off him before I was shoved back. I landed on my back, but tried to get back up. But hah, that would mean adding more to the "battle" so of Michael held me down after throwing the phone on the bed. "Michael, get off!" I yelled as his hands squeezed my wrists. It was embarrassing to be straddled when I had so much pride, but this isn't in a situation where I can enjoy it and act like a flustered schoolgirl!

I tried to kick my legs, but that didn't work either. I was never gonna get out of his grip but still, struggling to get out was er than admitting defeat so it's worth it. "Come on! You're heavy enough to kill me, so get up and fight like a man!" Michael had held his head down so getting a good view from my perspective wasn't easy. Basically, his head was above my chest (it's the easiest easy to describe my visionnnn) so him looking down only gives the view of his hair and forehead.

"Michael! Where you looking for that hoodie from a week ago? What were you even doing!" I shouted, cause you gotta make sure you keep that pride. I gave a couple seconds of waiting before sighing loudly, limping. Because screw that line in the same paragraph about pride, am I right? Then, he mumbled. It wasn't a word I don't think, considering it sounded more like a groan as conformation. I shivered a bit, still not used to the sound of his voice.

"Is...that a yeah?" He then nodded, but kept his head low. "Um, alright... Well, let me up and I'll get it for you, okay?" Michael then let go, standing up and helping me up in the process. "Thank you," I stated as I walked over to the closet, pulling out two hoodies. One for me, and that blue one for him. When I turned to hand his to him, he sadly put his mask on already, making me sigh again. I handed the hoodie and smiled at him.

"There you go! Let me know if you need anything else before I go, kay?" I spoke as I put on my hoodie then fixing my slightly messed up hair. He put on his hoodie, not responding in any way so I assumed nothing else was needed. I pat his arm and said bye as I walked out of the bedroom. I grabbed the oreo shake and walked out of the house, locking the door.

I shivered in bed, trying to sleep. It doesn't snow much here therefore what's basically a blizzard to happen is definitely surprising. It's worse that I have an old house; the temperature of the house really depends on the outside. There's few vents, so freezing air easily makes it into the house. And get this; the heater conveniently broke! Hah! Who's gonna come fix with weather? It's so funny it makes me want to curl up and cry, haha.

I guess it seems like I'm overreacting, but the house's temperature really is freezing because of the snow. Plus it's night out, so it's even colder. "It felt like summer yesterday though," I mumbled to myself, holding the covers tightly around me. I pressed me face closer to the pillow, closing my eyes tigher with stress. We all know a cold pillow is great but a cold cover is miserable. Michael had it worse however.

He slept on the couch with a few covers rather than a thick mattress and comforter. He got up a few times to microwave food so at least it'll make him a little warmer, but it didn't help much of course. Michael's been shot, ran over, beaten, and so many other things so the cold is nothing to him. But given the conditions he lives in, it wouldn't be wrong to use what he can to be more comfortable. Such as sleeping in a bed for once.

Just the thought of a bed sounded nice to him. The couch was small for someone tall enough to slap the top of the ceiling in schools that probably had some encouraging message on it. Michael pulled the covers off him, sitting up and stretching. His mask was off at the moment but it was too dark for anyone to notice luckily for him. He made his way towards the bedroom, opening the door silently and closing it.

Y/N frowned, nearly falling asleep at this point. Michael made his way over, softly leaning on the bed before laying on it. He wrapped his arm around Y/N for a little of warmth, since snuggles is nice I think. I wouldn't know, I've never dated. He nuzzle into the crook of her neck, closing his eyes. It was silent aside from the strangely obnoxious sound of wind from outside. I wouldn't know if that happens irl, it finally snowed for the first time where I lived and it was so little that the snow didn't pile up.

It was peaceful and Michael almost fell asleep until he heard a small snore from Y/N. Not the loli snore kind, no, I'm not a big fan of "adorable sneezes, yawns, or snores." This is the kind that you never want a significant oth set to wake you up to tell you about. Okay, maybe that not extreme but it was loud enough to be heard.

Michael felt a small smile go on his lips, intertwining his fingers with Y/N's hair. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep now. But his sleep was cut short when a loud squeak shook the house. He shook awake, sitting up immediately and looked around. All there was was a smol reader with a large smile on her face. The lamp besides the bed was turned on, showing a soft reddish feel to the room that made her blush excusable.

His look of concern fell to annoyance when he realized where the yell came from. He sighed, going deep into the covers with his back facing her. Y/N scoffed, "hey! Don't judge me! This is a three in a lifetime experience!" She huffed and pulled her phone out from under her pillow. She already got a picture of his face and hiding the picture would be easy. Uh, maybe. Y/N smirked as she plugged her phone it and turned off the lamp. She sjufgled into the covers, wrapping her smol arm around him this time.

"Goodnight~"

[doloresdraws]

I am slowly filling this OC question meme with all my WoD characters and it is a lot of fun, but also very exhausting.

Here is your chance to get to know more about Stanley, my sewer goblin Nosferatu boy ❤ ❤ ❤

❤ There is also a video process of this painting on my Youtube channel ❤

1) Stanley rarely gets angry, when he is supposed to be angry he instead get anxious and either starts to talk nonsense or stays silent.

2) He finds the idea lovely, but he knows that he will never meet anyone he could call a soulmate

3) More than being a pet peeve it just really makes him uncomfortable: when people are loudly shouting at him or at someone else.

4) He often thinks about his early childhood before he was seprated from his baby sister.

5) Probably the time he spent in the hospital before he found out about the Nosferatu and became their ghoul. Before that incident, he was feeling safe, taken care of and loved having a routine, knowing the place well and always looked forward to visits from his sister.

6) When he was separated from his sister and put into different foster homes.

7) He wouldn’t even go to a bar, too many people and too loud for his taste.

8) He was pretty badly beaten up when he was  living on the street, but nothing was ever broken. After the Embrace he made Maks (his Sire) pretty unhappy a few times which resulted in him getting a few broken ribs. He tries to stay away from danger, but sometimes it doesn’t work out.

9) He would like to forget finding a dead woman’s body in the sewers.

10) His happiest memory is playing peek-a-boo with his sister in the driveway, he was oblivious about the world and his future. Life was good at that moment.

11) No, he doesn’t. His type is everyone who would treat him nice and made him feel safe :) He currently has a woman he got kinda attached to, only because she was nice to him when he accidentally bumped into her on the street. He had a hoodie over his face and it was dark. She thought he was a homeless kid. She helped him gather all of the small trinkets he dropped in the collision and he was captivated by her kindness, so he followed her home XD

12) Many – he has a collection of various random things he found in the sewers, he collects everything that catches his attention – mainly some personal things like rings, bracelettes, scrunchies, he even found a photo album. He remembers the exact place he found each of his possessions and he likes to imagine stories for each item. He keeps bracelet of the dead woman in case he would one day found out her identity and could return it to her family.

13+14) He has no tattoos or piercings, only way too many fangs in his small mouth that pierce his lips and cheeks XD

15) His dream house would be somewhere where he would be frozen in time as a happy child together with his sister.

16) You would not expect to find out that he is actually not a child, but a grown man, his small and frail stature is deceiving.

17) He has always good intentions with gifts, but he is not the best at choosing gifts XD  He misjudges other people’s interest in smelly, sewer treasures XD

18) He knows he has a great memory, but because it has brought him so much trouble, both internal and external, he isn’t really proud or even happy he has an eidetic memory.

19) A stranger would describe him as a weird, smelly kid who talks too fast XD

20) Someone who spent more time around him and got to know him more (Mateusz) would describe him as a scared, smol man who might look like he can’t even count to ten but is actually very clever, but let others walk all over him because he is afraid of conflict.

21) He, himself is a walking insecurity :) But his biggest one is to not be understood when talking as he normally talks pretty fast, but when he is nervous and considering how many fangs he has it is sometimes hard for him to make sense and then he gets even more agitated as he is worried he will convey the message in a wrong way.

22) Physical: dexterity, non-physical: wits

23) Depends on the nature of the lie, most likely he would just nod and tried to understand the reason why he was lied to.

24) He has fond memories of the summer as when he was on the street, summer nights were warm and he didn’t have to worry about freezing to death. Aside this he is indifferent to the weather.

25) From romantic point of view he never had anyone he could say these words to, in general terms he only said I love you to his sister. He wouldn’t have a problem saying it first, but as a Nossie he knows that chances of him finding someone who would even want to spend time with him are almost none, so he will probably never say it to anyone else.

26) His only issue with openly sharing his worries is his fear of not being believed or worse be punished, so it depends on the person. If he knows that the person won’t get angry at him, he will share his worries.

27) No, he never saw anyone die. But the dead woman in the sewers was the first dead body he saw and he can’t erase the empty look on her face, it haunts him every night. He feels sad for her, being left there nameless, alone, dumped like trash. She surely had family somewhere and maybe they are still looking for her to this day…just like his sister is looking for him…

28) He totally is ticklish, he is very sensitive to touch, mainly because he is not used to be touched at the first place.

29) Very low pain tolerance, he hates being in physical pain and he knows that he now can heal pretty much everything, but it doesn’t take away the fact that he would much rather avoid getting hurt in the first place.

30) He wishes he would have been brave enough to say no to some of the things he is asked to do.

31) He isn’t a particularly messy eater, he mainly feeds on rats, not because of the guilt, but because he thinks that feeding from mortals is very stressful and scary ordeal.

32) Most unloved: when he got stuck obfuscated in the same room as the woman he followed home and unfortunately had to watch her and her date being intimate with each other. Not only he felt innapropriate, but it made him feel so lonely and sad that he never in his life felt so safe with someone to share such closeness and now he never will.

33) When he was reunited with his sister after years apart. Despite her being the younger sibling she   basically took care for him and did everything she could to get his mental health problems under control.

34) He would most likely hate to lose touch as he likes to touch things XD On the other hand he would gladly lost hearing, so he could no longer spy on people :D

35) He likes small talk, because it feels relaxing and he doesn’t have to worry about saying too much.

36) He would have asked Maks if he ever cared about him as a person or if he just considered him a tool, a good asset to have because of his memory skills.

37) To the past, to his early childhood to spend more time as a naive child with the person he cares the most in the world.

38) positive: his sister – she made him feel loved and made him feel like he mattered, the staff and other patients in the hospital – they made him feel safe, cared for and not alone, negative: various people he met while he was on the street, his foster families, and to an extent his biological parents though he didn’t meet with them after.

39) Depends, in the hospital he liked being surrounded by people because they were nice and he felt safe with them, as a Nossie he prefers to be alone because the other Kindred most often than not scare him. He likes to spend time with Jamie (the ghoul that is living in the sewers with them) because of her child-like personality, she seems harmless and he likes that.

40) The scary thing that he had seen in one part of the tunnels one night, nobody believes him but he is pretty sure there is something terriyfing livin there. Aside this probably his Sire Maks, but he had heard that he met Final death.. apparently by Mateusz’s hands of all people…

Stanley © me/doloresdraws

[razorblade180]

Interdimensional Moms part 2

Part 1 <-

Yang:Okay Weiss, your turn.

Weiss:What!? Why me?

Blake:Because you’ve been bouncing in your seat all through Yang’s story. You clearly want to gush about your kids.

Weiss:Pffft, What!? Nooooo, a little. Hehehe I can’t believe I’m that obvious. *smiles*

Ruby:Aww look at you, I never believe Weiss Schnee could look as warm as campfire.

Yang:And wearing mom jeans!? Little jealous that you still look completely gorgeous. Why does mom energy make you prettier?

Weiss:What can I say? I’m great. As far as my universe goes, I argue that I’m the strongest mom!

Blake:Such a bold claim.

Weiss:I carried twins! *points to self* this body handled two buns in the oven!

Ruby:Couldn’t be me. *shutters* I’d sooner loose an eye. Speaking of eyes, your scar has a friend. Got this whole upside down cross basically.

Weiss:Oh that? That’s uhhhh- how would I even explain this?

Yang:And your hair! It’s short!

Ruby:Yeah you’re just a surprise all over.

Blake:Guys, let her start from the beginning!

Ruby and Yang:Oh right. *covers mouths*

Weiss:(Yep, they’re the same sisters anywhere.) Thank you Blake. Now then...a good starting place? Well I suppose I could lay the ground work of Jaune and I getting better acquainted. It was about two weeks into reaching Atlas. Winter learned I got impaled and berated me not giving any kind of thanks. Since I had waited so long to do so, words wouldn’t do for her standards and she made me take him to a proper dinner. I think it was that night we actually talked openly to each other. A piece of me was annoyed at first because I thought he’d get the wrong idea again. But...he didn’t. He was just happy to spend time with me. That’s when I realized he had changed a bit *red* and apparently I changed too. Sigh, because that annoyed feeling was actually me forming a crush.

Blake:Looks like you changed more than he did. I think we can all agree that we’re pretty rough to deal with at Beacon in the beginning?

Yang:Hell yeah!

Ruby:Preach! Hehe, but it meant you grew the most too.

Weiss:Hey! You’re all assuming that I was terrible! Who knows, I could a Saint compared to your Weiss. Maybe I was a sweetheart at Beacon.

RBY:.....

Yang:Were you?

Weiss:*red* I’ll never tell.

Blake:(That’s just a no...) Two weeks into Atlas huh? I bet feelings raged whenever the whole place was under attack huh?

Weiss:W...What attack? Barely anything happened in Atlas.

Blake:Excuse me?

Ruby:Pfft what? You’re joking right? There wasn’t any threat of things falling out the sky or war threats?

Weiss:No? We showed up, put the relic in vault, and took time fortifying things while planning with Ironwood. The most exciting thing was a grimm wave and two of Salem’s goons showing up at a ball, but we handled that.

Ruby:....I...that’s...oh my head.

Blake:So what you’re saying is time in Atlas was a piece of cake?

Weiss:Well I had to deal with my father and and a lot of other family drama so I wouldn’t say it was cake. It was actually very stressful.

Yang:Well I think we found the massive shift between worlds. Atlas was different. I would say I dealt with anything like falling kingdoms. Atlas for me was one long Mission Impossible sequence. Espionage, jail break, fake deaths, but please continue with your love story.

Weiss:You sound a little envious. Anyways there isn’t too much of anything to tell in that part. Dates, fighting together, sibling healing, I was disowned publicly, Penny was being amazing-

Blake:You were disowned?

Ruby:(Penny is...alive? Huh, well, imagine that?) .....

Yang:*whispers* You okay Rubes?

Ruby:Yeah, processing. Hey Weiss? Not to control the narrative or anything, but how is your Ruby exactly? I get the feeling she’s quite different from me somehow if things like the adventure in Atlas are different.

Weiss rubbed her chin. She could tell the Ruby in front of her was pretty perplexed by the differences so far. In fact, Weiss could tell mentioning Penny made them all flinch a little. It was safe to assume they all hadn’t heard that name in a very long time. It made her feel a little bad. Did she somehow get a more ideal world?

Weiss:I think I might be able to answer that if you could humor me by getting a little further into my world’s reality? I don’t know how but I do get a since the two of you might have a key difference.

Ruby:I’m all ears.

Weiss: Blake, I’ll circle back to being disowned a little later. It’s one of the biggest reasons I am who I am now. Let’s see now, ah, the plan. After Atlas was infiltrated it was hard to save face to the rest of Remnant. That was until the world learned about Salem. It was a secret that was doing more harm than good at this point. On that day, our journey really began for us. Team RWBY wasn’t just four girls and their friends. It was one of four four girls commanding troops, organizing meetings, rallying others. We were the face of a revolution: along with JNPR of course.

Ruby:The world just...believed in Salem?

Weiss:There were plenty skeptics, but it’s harder not to believe it. Pen- our winter maiden, showed off magic. Then the others on our side followed the example. We had two relics to show off from the start, and a variety of ways to explain questions throughout history that nobody could answer before. We gave humanity’s suffering a face. People were more than eager to cling to it. From that point it was hard for Salem to make a move that wouldn’t give further validity to our story.

Ruby:An army huh, lead by us?

Weiss:Yep, mainly you when it came to the battlefield. You were anxious at first and definitely made moves that you regretted. But...after some time and experience, you stood tall in front of dozens to give a speech the night of the final battle. I still get chills. There wasn’t an eye that wasn’t on you. A person who didn’t want to march into battle with you. I don’t think I ever seen you more sure of where you were meant to be.

Ruby:Is that so? Hmm, I think...I think I get it now. Your Ruby must’ve stumbled quite a bit, but had people by her consistently. It was other’s strength that enabled her to get stronger. How old was she when the war was over?

Weiss:It ended on her twenty first birthday.

Ruby:Makes sense. An army isn’t made in a day. Plans and caution for everyone involved. A united force like that sounds like a thing Oz dreamed of.

Weiss:Actually, it was. My world beat Salem by gaining the relics. The gods witnessed the effort the world put in and stripped her of immortality. It was actually thanks to you that Salem went peacefully. Instead of damning her to a cruel fate, the gods let her pass on to her kids per your request. After that, gods and magic came back. Both are still mysterious. The gods are hard to find and there’s only one person born with magic so far.

Yang:Magic is a thing there!? That’s so unfair! Just imagine me with more fire!?

Weiss:Like you need it!? You’re already like a generator. Life after Salem wasn’t any calmer really. Terrifying grimm lurked where their could, an entire new way of life had been dropped on society, and even the world itself seemed to react. Weather has been more intense as of late. There was a lot things to keep people busy. Ruby being her usual self, started hunting. Blake used the momentum of faunus and humans working together to further her equality agenda, and Yang helped both of you out.

Yang:Look at me! I’m a great girlfriend and sister!

Blake:*mumbles* There at least.

Weiss:Yeah. Oscar and Penny decided to embarrass more of normal lifestyle, mostly. Penny went back to being protector of Mantle, but had way more free time to be a normal girl. Both of them had gotten really close over the years and eventually married.

Ruby:*wide eyed* Awwww, good for them! I always had a feeling those two would hit it off.

Weiss:They weren’t the only ones. You may have been busy, but you always made time for Whitley. The two of you were dating since our original trip to Atlas. There wasn’t a problem that either of you didn’t come to me for. You know hard it is to navigate other people’s relationships when you’re lost in your own? The blind was leading the blind. Worked out though. You were probably the prettiest bride out of all of us. Then again, you went ours and literally took notes.

Ruby:Hehe, that sounds exactly like something I’d do. You haven’t talked much about the charmed life after the war for you.

Weiss felt her face heat up. She placed her head on the table as if she gave up on something.

Yang:Yeah! Give us the scoop!

Weiss:Charmed isn’t what I’d call my life exactly. I was disowned, completely cut off. Even though I made my own mark in history, it’s not like people were gonna roll out red carpets. The world had to rebuild, and I needed a roof over my head. Thus began the modest life of Weiss Schnee, owner of a two bedroom Argus apartment. Fancy clothes a food were no more. Just clearance sales and two for one. Honestly, I didn’t hate. But that’s mainly because I wasn’t living alone.

Blake:Jaune?

Weiss:Living back home was just as unappealing for him as it was for me. That and the fact that I couldn’t cook for shit was concerning, to say the least. Moving in and splitting rent just made sense. We weren’t dating yet technically, but.....it didn’t take long for the relationship between us to...expand.

Yang:I cannot believe a Weiss Schnee finally caved to tall blonde and scraggly. I should be jealous, but I’m strangely proud of Jaune’s achievement. It’s like the first time I lost to him. I was upset, but man did he work for that win.

Weiss:Took about a month before all of you had learned just what the living situation was like and man did you three let the teasing begin? *smiles* it was fun though. If I had to wrong about something then I’m glad it was about me not thinking a person is reliable. Especially since they’ve bailed me out of trouble many times. Normal life had its pitfalls. We were constantly working to pay rent. Sometimes one of us had to work harder. Getting sick was disastrous, of long term assignments. What’s the relationship I have with Whitley in the other worlds?

Ruby:Casual. The two of are always throwing ideas back and forth to help the company.

Blake:The two of you are fine. I’m not too sure how much you actually hang out, but you both are pretty snarky whenever you’re together.

Yang:Thick as thieves. That man was always shifting money and finding sneaky ways to let us know when important things popped up.

Weiss:Good, that’s really good. *exhales* I can’t count the times he sent money without father knowing. I’m glad we reconnected. Without his and everyone’s help, I don’t think I would’ve managed. Especially when mom died...

Ruby:Oh. I...I’m sorry to hear that.

Weiss:It’s bound to happen when you drink the way she did. But yeah, didn’t handle it any easier. Between that and stressing over money, I really got overwhelmed often. I was very glad I didn’t live alone. Even if I didn’t want to talk about things, Jaune was always there to listen. I think it was around that time I realized just how in love I actually was with him. He makes me happy. That idiot must’ve known how much of a weakness I had for him. It was only a few months later that he proposed.

The simple memory of Jaune asking her under a street light on a cold yet peaceful night, made Weiss’s face a healthy shade of red. A gentle smile was all she could make thinking about it. A smile that left everyone stunned. They had never seen Weiss look so warm. So genuinely filled with love, happiness. To think she was once called Ice Queen? This one really did look like an Angel. Weiss quit daydreaming and got a little embarrassed.

Weiss:Uh, sorry! I guess I little mushy there. I’ve been told I’ve gotten pretty sappy through the years.

Blake:I think that’s beautiful.

Yang:Seriously. I’m...speechless really.

Ruby:A hardworking Weiss that struggled making ends meet. I gotta say that you look good doing it.

Weiss:Yeah well, that time has passed. My father got sick and in an attempt to “clear his conscious” or whatever he was feeling, he put me back in the family. I only saw him once when he was on his deathbed. Truthfully, I don’t visit my parent’s grave. I wanna say old emotions don’t get stirred up, but there’s certain feelings towards people that just can’t die I guess.

Yang:That’s fair. Who knows, maybe you just need a decade or two?

Weiss:Hehe, perhaps. However, before I got my fortune back, I was granted an either better one. Two in fact. That sly knight of mine managed to overachieve like he always does and give us a boy and girl.

Blake:I got a sneaking suspicion that you weren’t upset?

Weiss:Not for one second! I love my babies. My darling little Nick and Summer Schnee. One named after our grandfather, and Jaune and I are both really thankful for all that Ruby has done for us, so our daughter got named Summer. It meant a lot. My Ruby...she can’t have kids, or I should say getting and staying pregnant is extremely difficult.

Ruby:...*sniffling* These aren’t tears by the way. Just dust.

Weiss:My Ruby cried.

Ruby:Oh I bet! That’s some powerful stuff. Probably ugly cried too. Someone please say something? *misty eyed* Fuck, man that was a lot. *puts hood up* give me a sec, please keep going. *holding Yang’s hand*

Yang:Weiss, weren’t you a little scared about your living situation?

Weiss:It was a weird thing. We talked about having a family before hand. Money was always a concern, as well space; but I also knew that I did want to have a family of my own one day. So when the day came that the nurse told me I was pregnant, I should’ve been more worried. I wasn’t. All I felt was joy. Maybe it was because I had faith we could handle anything. We did have you all to help. Yang, you might as well be a superwoman honestly. You have been so amazing throughout my life.

Yang:Aye! I really love this other me.

Blake:What about me?

Weiss:You remain the most sensible person in my life and I thank you for it. Everyone else is crazy.

Blake:Yeah that’s pretty on brand. *smiles*

Ruby:Picture please?

Weiss gladly pulled out her scroll and showed off her children. It was quick to see both of them had gotten their father’s dorkiness. They stood in front of the camera playfully winking and were pretending to take a bite out the gold medals they had around their necks. It was crazy how much Summer looked like her mother, but clearly had Jaune’s eyes. Her brother on the other hand had the Schnee eyes and messy Arc hair. The two looked like barrels of fun. Then there was the man himself, Jaune Arc. He looked from the one in Yang’s photo. His hair resembled his days traveling to Haven and he was clean shaven, but he was noticeably healthier. It wasn’t even a physical thing much, though he did look good. He just seemed more vibrant.

Yang:Mine is cuter.

Weiss:Yours looks like your dad with the scruff.

Yang:Can you not?

Blake:How old?

Weiss:Sixteen. Little devils want sports car. I’m not dealing with that. Nick is really good at figure skating and is the oldest, so he’s the heir. Summer decided to be a little like her mother and pursue singing. Doesn’t have my voice though, but her range is better than me. I’m jealous. Both of them are always pretty decent in a fight if I do say so myself. Sigh, they grow up so fast. They still have a lot of growing to do though. Teenagers...

RBY:Preach...

Ruby:Everything okay though? Nothing too tough going on?

Weiss:Can I lie and say yes?

Yang:Hey I unpacked my baggage. Unload yours.

Weiss let out a large sigh. She looked at her kids lovingly, but had a smile that seemed...somber. All of her energy was brought down a bit and it showed.

Yang:Umm if it’s too much-

Weiss:It’s fine. It might be a little therapeutic to talk about it. Personally, I don’t I’m doing all I really can do. When they were very young, we all took a trip to go skating at a frozen lake. While I was there I found this strange ice dust that I’ve never seen before. Nick and Summer had gotten into a fight and by accident, Nick set off the dust. The shrapnel from it hit everyone, but Summer had it the worse. I’m talking it was lodged in her in multiple places. Not to mention the blast sent her flying into the water. I was hit so hard that I nearly blacked out. Thankfully, Jaune was the furthest and dove into the water while I managed to get Nick. He avoided a lot of it due to distance and was winded more than anything.

Ruby:Christ...

Blake:How young?

Weiss:Five. We rushed so fast to the hospital as soon as we could. The dust in Summer was freezing her until Nick activated her semblance and most of the shards got used up. Still, Summer ended up hospitalized for almost a year. Surgeries, comas, seizures; it was difficult to put it lightly. That picture doesn’t show it but she has puncture scars across her body, and a slight scar under her jawline she covers with makeup. That dust, though highly dangerous, it also healed her eventually. Summer had virtually no chance of survival. Not even counting the organ damage, that water should’ve put her into shock. But...she made a full recovery, on paper.

Yang:On paper?

Weiss:Several years later, Summer came in contact with the dust again and she...changed. Her eyes looked like mine, her light blonde hair went white, and she went mad. Her scars glowed with the dust that was still in her system and Summer started attacking everyone. I saw my twelve year old just use ice that was cold enough to burn. My extra scar is from me trying to restrain her. In the end it took my gigas pinning her down before she came to her senses. Summer had no memory of it. She said all remembered was feeling cold and hearing her own laughter. It wasn’t long after that it kept happening. Any time she got cold, this other...thing would come out. It eventually called itself Shiva.

Blake:Shiva? So...it’s a multiple personality?

Weiss:We don’t know. There’s so many inconsistencies. We got her checked up by the best and every test was normal. Her brain looks normal. But any time Shiva comes out, her blood turns blue and all she wants to do is hurt us. Shiva and Summer are even aware of each other now. There’s almost no day where Summer doesn’t hear Shiva in her head, wrestling for control. Between that, people at school who hate her, the scars, everything; Summer has become pretty reserved. She barely wants to go to school and she’s depressed most days. Nowadays she doesn’t open up about it outside of therapy. I...I can connect with her. Not in the way that matters.

Yang:I...shit, I don’t know what to say to that.

Weiss:That’s okay, few do. We’ve gotten good at preventing situations that get Summer cold but it’s through trial and error on something we know nothing about. Even with how far we’ve gotten, there’s a looming fear in everyone’s heart. Make no mistake though, that doesn’t stop any family from loving her with everything, but the mental strain of it all is more than anyone should deal with. Nick is kind soul. He blames himself for this and is constantly doing all he can to be there for everyone and put on this brave face, but he suffers inside. For a time, he went to therapy. Your sister almost killing you is a visceral experience. Getting him to sleep and take a break is like telling a fish not to swim. He is pretty open about this though, which helps a lot. It’s just...how do convince somehow they’re good enough when they think they’re not?

Ruby and Blake:You can’t....

Weiss:Exactly. It’s so...*tearing up* How am I failing at helping my kids worse than my own mother?

Yang:And that’s where I draw the line. *stands up* Now I can’t begin to fathom dealing with a a situation like this, and what I’m about to say is gonna be a little hypocritical but I really don’t care. Weiss, the last thing you are is a bad mother. I could tell immediately from the way you are that there hasn’t been a single as a parent that you haven’t made a choice without your kids in mind. I get feeling like there’s a gap that disconnects you from there; but the fact you keep your arms stretched out to bridge it makes you mother of the year in my eyes! Don’t believe for a second you’re a bad mother. Your the gold standard!

The room filled with silence for a moment. Weiss felt a lump form in her throat as she fought back tears that she eventually had to wipe away. She tried letting out a small laugh, but with it came more tears that ran down her face. Weiss couldn’t tell if it was from Yang’s words, or the stress. All she knew was that right now, she felt very thankful for being here.

Weiss:Damn it Yang, making me cry is something you’ve always been good at. Maybe that’s why I look up to you so much?

Yang:*red* Y-You what?

Weiss:My Yang, I downplayed just how much I adore her. Her daughter, Veronica, she’s got her fair share problems that stresses Yang out, but I never see her stop trying to connect with her. Even when she’s sad it’s like it’s only for a second, then you’re trying twice as hard. It’s amazing. If I’m being honest, and this is embarrassing, but I kinda picked up a mother from you. You’ve always been a bit motherly.

Ruby:She’s right.

Blake:Mom energy since day one.

Yang:Really? *rubs head* I was just being myself. Never really thought about it. Now then, wipe those tears! It’s upsetting that you look pretty why you cry. Meanwhile I look like a hot mess, and not in the fun way.

Weiss:*wiping face* Oh please, I don’t wanna hear that from someone who’s never needed make up. Those genes of your went to Veronica. Kids a genuine beauty. She’s just angry all the time.

Yang:Yeah that sounds appropriate... Weird to think I have a daughter that’s not Yujin. Wish I could see her.

Blake:Me too. Though I think I’d be overwhelmed seeing all my different kids. I’d probably want them all.

Ruby:My hands are full with ones I have and I wouldn’t say I’m juggling them well, so I don’t need other kids from universes. I’d be so stressed.

Weiss:Especially if they’re violent.

Ruby:Yeah, that would bad....

Weiss:Phew, I do feel a bit better. Even though I said all those things, my family still had good times. It’s not tense and we joke around like everyone else. As a family, we’re happy. We just have shit we gotta sort through.

Blake:Rich or poor, life has certain things that hit everyone. Is Jaune doing well.

Weiss:Yeah, he gets through to Summer pretty well, and he’s typically calm when it comes to giving guidance. He had his fears, but that’s why I’m here. We confide in each other.

Blake:May you and everyone else find a light at the end of the tunnel.

Ruby:Hey Weiss. Does....actually, never mind. Forget it.

Yang:We both know that’s not happening. Spit it out.

Ruby:I was just about Shiva. I’ve encountered weird things in my world, but this is unique. I was wondering if you have any positive experience with her.

Weiss:Not a single one. Here since of enjoyment in the displeasure of my children is a thing we disagree on. Though....her eyes, they do throw me off. For some reason, they don’t match her joy.

Blake:Maybe that part is still Summer. Eyes are the window to the soul and all that jazz.

Weiss:Maybe? I hope the kids are okay right now. I wonder what they’re up to?

xxxxx

Summer:WHAT’S UP VALE!!!!!!!!

A massive crowd screams “what’s up Summer”in excitement. Flashing lights and chanting fans’s voices make the sold out venue shake with their passion. Summer can only bask in it. There’s no better feeling than when she’s on stage. She looks to herself excitedly. This one was extra special. Nick comes out on stage with a base around him and a second microphone.

Nick:WE CAN’T HEAR YOU!!!!

The crowd chants louder. Summer responds by starting a rift on her guitar. She faces Nick with a smug look. Yes, having him on stage is always a joy, but that didn’t mean Summer wanted him hindering or stealing the show.

Summer:Well look who’s here!? Atlas’s favorite son! Think you’re ready to play with the kids up here. This isn’t your normal stage.

Nick smiled. He responded by playing the bass and letting the audience speak for him. Summer was chessing fool. Slowly she bopped up and down, urging him to do the same. It wasn’t long before they in sync. Drums, piano, and other background musicians began building up the tune as planned. The twins whipped around to face the crowd.

🎶Get down! We won't let you go!

This time, can you bring us down?

Back up! fly far through the sky

BLACK ROVER!

Let's go! All together now

And at last this world can't slow us down

For now, let's dye it all in black

BLACK ROVER!🎶

The two stood back to back...

🎶As more join and stand beside me,

The void doesn't feel so empty!!!!!

I know there is much more in store

Let's open that door -!🎶

Nick looked over his shoulder and saw Summer doing the same thing. This was gonna be one for the books. Jaune watched from backstage with one of the stagehands.

Stagehand:Should we tell them to save their energy? This charity event is six hours.

Jaune:Nah, let them have fun.

[16woodsequ]

Can you tell us headcannons/scenes from fic ideas you have had but have gave up on?

I do have a few ideas for fics that I either thought about writing but changed my mind, or have, but didn’t ever really plan on writing. This is mostly because the ideas are very angsty and while I like thinking about them, I think they might be super depressing to write.

Hallucinations

One idea I like playing around with is the idea that Steve started to hallucinate Bucky after he came out of the ice. I probably won’t write this fic, because I am not sure if visual hallucinations commonly work by having just one person following someone around and talking to them. I don’t know enough about having hallucinations to feel comfortable using it as a means of telling a story.

But anyway, if you remember my rant about the cabin SHIELD sends Steve to, I imagine that he started hallucinating Bucky either during or after that. Of course, he wouldn’t tell anyone about it because he would be worried about getting labelled as crazy and sent back to somewhere like the cabin or worse.

I think the hallucination of Bucky would be a personification of Steve’s own thoughts and feelings, so at times Bucky would be comforting and friendly. But other times he could be cruel and blame Steve for letting him die (because Steve blames himself,) or point out all his flaws.

Since I headcanon that Steve knows about the bugs in his apartment, he wouldn’t be able to risk talking to Bucky except when alone outside, or in the bathroom. (Which Bucky would take full advantage off.)

I don’t think he would hallucinate Bucky constantly, but Bucky would show up regularly. I think the first time Bucky showed up, Steve was doing something like cooking, and he hears Bucky’s voice saying ‘I’d like some of that’, and he responds without thinking—before his whole body freezes and he realises what has just happened.

Steve knows that hallucinations are not normal, and that he isn’t okay. But he doesn’t want to tell anyone, and part of him guiltily doesn’t want the hallucinations to stop (something that Bucky calls him out on sometimes, because again, he is basically Steve’s own thoughts, which would be hard to deal with sometimes.)

Bucky doesn’t show up while Steve is on missions, which is important because otherwise Steve would definitely be a liability. Also, it is important, because eventually Steve is going to be fighting the Winter Soldier, and the mask is going to come off, and Steve is going to get a shock of a lifetime.

I imagine that after Hill brings Steve and the others to see Fury, Steve locks himself in the bathroom for a while and rants with hallucination-Bucky, trying to figure out if what he saw was actually real. Since Steve has been hallucinating Bucky for a while, he isn’t sure if he can trust his senses. But he argues that he has never seen Bucky during a fight like that, and why would he hallucinate Bucky’s face on someone like that? He has always seen Bucky as his 40s-self, so why would he see someone with long hair and a metal arm?

(Bucky argues that Steve hasn’t eaten or slept properly for several days, and could just be crazier than usual, and if he is wrong, he could be putting everyone in danger. And, isn’t the fact that he is busy talking to himself in the bathroom alone, a sign that he isn’t really stable? The man didn’t even know who Bucky was, how can Steve claim that he is Bucky?)

In the end, Steve decides that he can’t risk not believing that the Winter Soldier is Bucky, and he decides to treat him like it is Bucky, until he is proven otherwise.

I’m not sure if the hallucinations would stop after Steve finds Bucky, and Steve may or may not finally tell Sam about his hallucinations while they are searching for Bucky.

Some more angsty stories I probably won’t write have to do with self-harm and suicidal tendencies/attempts by Steve, so I’ll put that under the cut line.

Suicidal tendencies

I do have a general headcanon that Steve was suicidal back in the 30s-40s. I imagine it was soon after his Ma died. Steve would have grown up being told he was a burden from one source or another, and he probably felt guilty that he wasn’t able to get his mother more care during her illness.

I can see him getting very depressed and listless after her death, especially if he is in-between jobs, and can’t seem to get another one. I headcanon he lived with Bucky, and Bucky would be working to try to pay the rent, and Steve would start to think it would just be better if he weren’t there taken up money and resources.

I think it would take some time before Steve actually decides that he should kill himself, but the idea would slowly grow more and more intrusive. Eventually he would convince himself that everybody would be better off if he were dead. (Especially since, with his illnesses, he has probably been told he is going to die young anyways. Might as well get is over with.)

For this, I headcanon that he planned to jump off the Brooklyn bridge. I’ve looked at pictures, and heard stories, so I think it is possible for him to do that. On the day that he planned it, he waited for Bucky to go to work, and then he put away all his things in the apartment, and wrote a note for Bucky to leave on the table. In the note, he mentions where his body will probably be found.

He goes out, and first stops by Mrs. Barnes to say goodbye to her (although she doesn’t know that.) It starts raining as he begins walking down to the Brooklyn bridge. I don’t know how far it would be from where he lived, but he wouldn’t really be concerned about the distance.

Meanwhile, Bucky happens to come home early. At first he is confused by Steve not being home, but then he sees the note on the table, and reads it with growing horror. Since Steve mentioned where he was going, Bucky dashes out of the house, hoping against hope that he isn’t too late.

It is pouring rain by now, and there is almost nobody on the bridge because of the weather. Steve is right by the railing when Bucky gets there, and he’s kind of out of it since he isn’t in a good place right now. Bucky ends up tackling him and Steve is shocked to see him.

Bucky is, of course, terrified and angry, and he yells at Steve because he is so scared. Steve just breaks down and they eventually make it home. I don’t think suicide was really talked about a lot back then, so neither of them would really know what to do, and it would probably sit between them like an elephant in the room for a while.

Eventually the tension would snap and Steve would probably yell about why he is better off dead, and Bucky would yell back how wrong he is about that. I can imagine Steve saying something like “You know I’ll be dead by thirty anyways. You know what the doctor says.”

And then Bucky grabs his shoulders desperately and just goes. “No! No. They keep sayin’ that, and you always prove them wrong. Who cares what they say? You gotta prove ‘em wrong. You’re going to live till your one hundred, ya hear? Promise me.”

And then Steve would stare wide-eyed at him, and stutter out a promise.

Steve wouldn’t try to kill himself again in the 40s, but that promise would become important after he wakes up from the ice.

When Steve wakes up in the ice, I imagine his depression hit even worse, and it was even harder for him to resist his intrusive, suicidal thoughts. And, when he wakes up from the ice, he is technically 94 years old. So he resigns himself to leaving six more years. He decides he can live six more years before he kills himself. He doesn’t know if he ages anyways, and the thought of living like this forever is horrifying, but he can do six years. He can keep his promise to Bucky and last six more years.

Of course, intrusive thoughts are very hard to resist, so I imagine Steve got close to making another attempt in the two years after he woke up, but he was either interrupted or managed to talk himself down.

And then, eventually he finds Bucky again, and that focus helps push away the thoughts for the time being.

I always imagine though, that while in Wakanda, Bucky remembers Steve trying to kill himself when they were younger, and he confronts Steve about it. That is when they are finally able to have an open conversation about what Steve felt, and what Bucky felt, and where each of them are mentally now.

Self-harm

This was a fic that I actually planned to write. I have a WIP that was going to introduce this eventually.

The idea was that after Steve woke up from the ice, he slowly began to self-harm to deal with all his anxious, repressed emotions. It would start out small—digging his nails into his fists, and arms to try to focus/calm down etc—before eventually it would evolve to cutting.

Steve is very careful to hide it, and his super healing helps. I headcanoned that he used a pocketknife that Bucky gave him during the war (one of the only things of his that he has, besides his compass). He always keeps it on him, and he develops a sort of anxious tick were he unconsciously brushes his hand over his pocket when he is feeling stressed, just to reassure himself that the knife is there if he needs it.

He knows that self-harm isn’t healthy, but he avoids thinking about it. He justifies the fact that he heals quickly, and doesn’t scar. It hardly matters, right?

I usually headcanon that Sam finds out about the self-harm while they are tracking down Bucky. Once Sam finds out, Steve does try to work on quitting, but it is a two steps forward, one step back process for him. He starts carrying around elastic bands in his gear belt so that he can use those when he has an urge.

Usually I don’t have any of the other Avengers find out—although Steve might tell Bucky once they get to Wakanda. Once Infinity War came out, I headcanoned that Steve really wanted to keep from self-harming after Sam and Bucky died, because he knew they would want him to, so he asked Natasha to hang onto his knife for him. She didn’t know why he asked that, but she could tell it was important.

When I first thought about writing this story, it appealed to me because I wanted to write a self-harm story that should the slow progression Steve’s self-harm took.

The main reason I don’t think I will write this story anymore is because it will probably be depressing for a long time. In order to do the slow-burn right, we’d have to follow Steve’s headspace for a while, so it would be a long time before he got any help. I still like this idea, but I probably won’t write it.

I hope you enjoyed those fic ideas! Hopefully it wasn’t too depressing. If you want to chat with me more about this ideas, feel free!

Headcanon masterpost

[kambessugarbby]

“mission: stovetop”

two things occurred today that you never thought would happen:

one, you managed to finish all your paperwork earlier than expected.

two, your grouchy detective boyfriend let you cook today. (grouchy in a loving way of course)

it’s not like you had never cooked for him before. you just hadn’t been able to use his kitchen. whenever you brought up the topic of concocting a small, homemade dinner in his cozy yet practical apartment, he would grimace and quickly replace the topic with the oh-so-classic “lovely weather today, huh?”

after arriving at his workplace and much begging on your part for him to let you use his kitchen tonight, your boyfriend sighed and handed you the keys to his place, muttering how childish it was of you to beg like that. too giddy to care, your hand snatched it out of haru’s while you hugged your boyfriend as a sign of victory. mission in mind, you hurriedly kissed his cheek and made your way to exit the building. “you won’t regret this!”

as you were in the middle of your internal victory dance out of the building, you missed the small smile the detective had shown your way. shaking his head in disbelief at your behavior, he continued to look over the files on his desk while thinking of the adorable look on your face as he agreed to your pleas. 

*at Haru’s place*

your arms cried under the weight of the grocery bags, slowly losing strength as you grew closer and closer to the apartment. fumbling with the key, you managed to open the door, pushing it open with your hip. the next few seconds became a blur as you removed your shoes at the doorway and attempted to keep the food within the bags intact. 

the bags were placed on the counter and you could feel the blood flow rushing back into your slightly reddened arms. “damn, i really should start working out more”, you thought out loud. exhaling all the pent up stress from bringing the precious cargo into the home, you took a moment to actually look around at the home. 

although it was slightly warm due to the air conditioning being shut off, it was still cool, a slight breeze from the open window outside. it all looked generally the same from when you had visited a few weeks ago; the only slight difference was the stack of paperwork on the living room table. 

poor baby, he really has been caught up with work lately, your mind producing images of the bags under his eyes, only even darker if it was even possible. haru was extremely hardworking, an endearing trait in all honesty. yet, it would become too much and you would rarely hear from him and when you called, the faint sound of paper rustling along with the scribbling of the pen was always present. 

more motivated than before, you took the apron that still had the slightest smell of your boyfriend’s cologne, tied it on, and began to work on your dish. 

*a few hours later*

how did i manage to fuck this up, you groan as you attempt to save your dish. 

in the middle of your victory high and karaoke session, what you had believed to be a simple dish had turned out to be a disaster. it was raw, yet it tasted burnt. you forgot to add some spices to it so now the dish had a flavor it normally would not take. 

the crisp white apron had turned into a crumbled mess, hints of the ingredients you had used littered across the plane of it. along with your reddened forehead from facepalming one too many times, you could surely say that you had gone through cooking hell. 

deeming the meal a fail, you turn off the stovetop and slide against the fridge, landing on the wooden floor with a small thump. 

tears of frustration burned in the corner of your eyes as you realized that haru would soon arrive at a kitchen he wouldn’t recognize as well as a girlfriend who failed to come up with a dish to soothe his most likely rumbling stomach. head in your hands, you quickly try to come up with last-minute dinner ideas to prevent your boyfriend from breaking up with you.  

the universe had a funny way to tease you because the door opened as your mind had finally decided to order Thai food from the kiosk two blocks way. “i’m home!” in any other circumstance, the thought of the detective saying that phrase as he walked through the door would have reminded you of a husband coming home to his wife. yet, it had conjured into one of the scenes in the horror movies you watched with haru, a jumpscare coming soon after. 

in that case, it was haru who was experiencing the jumpscare. 

it hadn’t been due to the multiple pots and pans lying around the stovetop nor had it been whatever happy accident had occurred on his kitchen counter. it was the sight of his normally happy and down-to-earth lover clearly in distress and fumbling over her words as she attempted to explain what had happened.

“ireallywantedtomakeasuperromaticdinnerforyoutonightbuteverythingwentwrongandimsosorryaboutthisbecauseyouareextremelytiredandyoucomehome-” your mouth running wild as you attempted to explain the good intentions you had for tonight without bursting into tears. 

gently placing his hands on your shoulders, he interrupted your thought bubble “woah honey, slow down. i can’t understand you if you speak too fast.”

a few seconds later, catching your breath and letting go, your emotions calmed a little as you repeated what you had stated, this time at a speed that he could comprehend. “i truly wanted you to finally relax for once and now i ruined it. i’m the worst, aren’t i?” 

silence takes over as you attempt to discreetly wipe away the tears that keep falling, turning the discreet almost impossible at the rate that they kept falling. hearing a chuckle, your hands are pulled away from your cheeks, letting one tear happily makes its way down. “yeah, you are the worst”, the detective whispers as he wipes the tear off your red cheeks. 

in your emotional state, the burning sensation returns to your eyes as you look away from him. “you didn’t need to agree with me, jeez.” you wince as haru flicked your forehead, hand coming up to soothe the area he targeted. “you never let me finish, dumbass. let your elders speak.” with a pout, you mutter softly how your lover would just continue to insult you either way. 

cupping your cheeks, he directs your face towards him, capturing all of your attention. your mind takes note of how although what he had just said was slightly harsh, the look in his golden eyes presents a major contrast, the softness in them overpowering you. 

“you are the worst girlfriend ever-don’t interrupt. you are too caring for your own good, putting other’s needs before your own. you make me feel a million times better about myself just by looking my way. and you suck so much that you even finish all of your work early just so you can make me dinner. oh man, how did i ever end up with such a shitty girlfriend as you?”, he emphasizes his last point by poking your forehead, the corner of his lips turning upwards as he watches you scrunch your nose at the action. 

your heart warms at the sentiment behind his sarcastic speech, a blush rising in your cheeks as you realize that he is most definitely not breaking up with you now. then, you look back at the cluttered kitchen and remember the predicament you were in “what about dinner though?” 

as if answering your prayers, he holds up a bag of Thai food. “i brought this just in case. not that i thought you were gonna ruin dinner but for safety measures.” you laugh as he rubs the nape of his neck, knowing that you had just found out his plan for dinner. walking over towards one of the bags left intact, you pull out a bottle of soju and present it to haru with a smile,“i brought the drinks. lemme pour this into glasses and we’ll be good to go.” 

he takes that as a cue to set up the table while you bring out the glasses from his cupboard. with you already having prepared the drinks for tonight, you glance at your lover pulling out the take out boxes and plates from their plastic bags. a feeling of appreciation surges through you as your feet guide you to where he is. “hey babe, everything okay?”, he asks as he notices you standing behind him. 

turning towards you, you take advantage of this moment and pulls his tie down, your lips meeting his in the process. haru’s eyes widen for a moment before closing to savor the moment with you. god, when was the last time you guys had kissed because it felt like a lifetime for him since your soft lips greeted his. 

with a soft sound from your lips disconnecting, you lean your head on his forehead and sigh blissfully. 

“yeah, better than okay.” 

Mission: successful?

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Nine | Dating Tense! (Part 3 of 3)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Your conversation with Undyne goes a similar route as with Toriel's: confronting a stranger in the name of protecting the one you held most dear, as a result ending whatever possible, friendly connections you could've likely formed with her right from the start -- without that complex context placed between you. Seeing everyone as your enemy is draining at its least, but the reward you visualize for everyone ahead makes it all seem worth it. That thought alone provides with strength to keep pushing forward, and even more so when you remind yourself over obtaining a possible happy ending of your very own, were you to resolve this situation with the monsters first.

With that thought in mind, you set the empty teacup down on the coffee table and take a deep breath in, preparing yourself to continue with the conversation. You're already halfway through the most difficult process with Undyne, so backing away now would be useless; thankfully, the tea has enough chamomile in it for you to quell your anger and turn it into sobriety, instead. Of course, that sounds way easier than it is, but -- compared to how you felt when talking with Toriel -- it's a difference as large as the distance between the sky and Earth. Keeping in mind all the kindness and patience you've been shown throughout the process helps with that, as well.

You stand up, continuing with, "I understand protecting the Underground was your priority, but…" You stop to breathe again. "Why… Why would you attack without waiting to see what Frisk had to say? If you were informed enough to know there was a human running free in the Underground, then couldn't you have known they weren't causing any harm, in the first place?"

Despite the tea, its effects and your subsequent calm don't last long. Frustration keeps you from staying in one, sole place without fidgeting, so you let energy out through a composed, back-and-forth pace across the living room. You stop for a second and face down at Undyne, who keeps herself seated, eye meeting with your gaze. "How many of those six souls were murdered, and…" Your breath hitches. "And how many of them were genuine, self-sacrifices? I… I wouldn't be so angry, if you were just honest with me and told me how many human lives were taken away without their honest approval, and exactly how many of them sacrificed their lives for you, in the end."

At the thought of Frisk, still selfless towards plenty of things based on how young they were and the education they received -- both at home and at school -- you keep your posture straight, eager to say more. "And was there really no other solution than taking those souls? If… If Frisk saved your kind without having to give up their own life for it, then why did all this happen? Why… Why did six people have to die before a different solution could come around?" A pause and a sigh help you recollect your thoughts. "Or were they threatening the lives of your kind? 'Cause that makes a lot more sense than simply taking away the soul of the first human you saw, no matter their age, background, or intentions."

Undyne still stays silent for a while even after you're done, eye now cast down at the floor as she frowns and her hands hold onto her knees. "...Well," she says, trailing off with a sigh. "I was only ordered to chase after whatever human I crossed paths with." She lifts her gaze from the floor while a hand toys around with the scales on her neck, distracting herself from you. "It wasn't every day a human would fall down there, so we were eventually ordered to, well... kill whatever human did happen to end there… Indiscriminately." Finally, she makes eye contact with you, frown quivering as she takes another quick pause. "According to what we were told, it had been years since a human last fell down, so when Frisk arrived, I... I just sought after them without thinking twice."

"But if that many years passed by, couldn't your kind look for another solution? If… If Alphys built a new body for her friend out of nothing but scraps, and with two different forms -- mind you -- then... Then couldn't another scientist on similar or equal terms of knowledge have done something about all this? Why wait so long, if… if all it took was a child to find another solution for you?" Your voice breaks and your ire finally snaps with, "Where's your sense of justice? Or does it only apply when it's convenient?"

She notices the change herself, though she doesn't flinch nor retaliate; neutrality is her only reaction as she replies with, "(L/N), in all honesty, I…" Undyne stops, facing down again as her grimace deepens, sorrow dampening her eye. "I'm... I'm not sure how to answer that." 

Seeing you've reached a dead end, you glance over towards Alphys, who tries to look away, failing when you call out her name. "What about you, Doctor Alphys? Was there really no other thought in mind other than waiting for the next prey to arrive? Was there truly no…" Your breathing grows scarce, hinting at you losing your grip on the intensity of your emotions again. "Was there truly no other option than for us to be enemies? For your kind and mine to… to simply keep up with the damage our ancestors made and left behind?"

Alphys is shaking, yet you stay unfazed, only lessening your level of intimidation by uncrossing your arms and looking away from her, giving her some space and time to reply. 

"I'm n- not sure what to say, either, but… Y- You do have a point." She wrings her hands, her shaking attempting to compose itself through that. "But… As a f- former scientist of the Underground, I wasn't told much over what the rules were. One of the few things that I took part on was in... in creating Mettaton's new body." Her hands unwind, shoulders copying them. "I... I know he was programmed to k- kill humans, but like you mentioned: he was my friend before any of that happened, and so he already had a life and consciousness before I made that new version of him. It- It just so happened that I… I modified a few things so that he could-"

Her words are interrupted as Frisk walks into the living room, still sleepy-eyed. They rub their eyes with the sleeve of their shirt, and a frown presents itself when they take a good look at the scene before them. 

"What's wrong?" they sign, expression furrowed.

They take in everything around them, letting their face lose tension when their gaze moves on over to you, encouraging them to approach you. "You're here!" Frisk grabs your hand, taking a look at the time on your watch. Then, they raise an eyebrow, letting you go to continue with, "You didn't go to work today? Or did you leave early?"

You smile, let your guard fall, and bring them into your arms, holding them up. "The streets got flooded, so I couldn't go anymore after lunchtime," you say, kissing their cheek. "How've you been, though? Did you have fun at miss Toriel's new place? I've been here since twelve, but you were sleeping, so I didn't want to wake you."

They grin, nodding as they bring their arms firm around your neck, hugging you close. "I had fun." You tense a little at the sound of their voice despite there being more people besides Toriel, Brenda, or you around; how often selective mutism kept them from saying things out loud in front of other people made their voice a rare thing to hear in public, no matter how small the crowd was. It's only when they're alone with you or people of trust that they have the courage to speak up out loud -- a rare case was Frisk being capable of talking with Bubbles regardless of them having met him only once so far, yet you dismiss that one as them having simply gotten along well with him right from the start, rather than associating it with them truly forgiving you and wanting to defend you, as a result. "A- Are you gonna stay here, then? It's raining a lot!"

"I believe they have no other choice, dear," Toriel intervenes, easing out the tension left from your earlier conversation, still unfinished. 

She arrives next to you; a set of clothes are held out in her hands, these neatly folded and accompanied by some soap, a towel, and a roll-on deodorant. "(L/N) was waiting for the skies to clear up, but the rain and the floods have made it near impossible for any of us to leave this house." You set Frisk down and take the clothes, surprised to see a set of pajamas similar to Toriel's clothing style, and even some (men/women)'s underwear tucked underneath all the other items -- and unused based on the size tag still attached to it. "I am not sure if these sizes will fit you, but those clothes are all spares I keep stored away for guests." She lowers her voice and gets closer to you. "The undergarments are new, of course." She giggles, winking at you afterwards. "The bathroom is upstairs, if you would like to shower now."

You inspect the clothes again, frustration simmering down back to calm as you let your shoulders lessen their stress with a sigh. "Thank you, ma'am."

• • •

Barely two months into knowing the monsters, and you're already staying at their place. While Alphys and Undyne are capable of leaving under the current, wild weather at will if they were to take their needed precautions, neither Frisk nor you can step a foot outside without drawing it back in. The streets are a mess of puddles, nature-made swimming pools, and car alarms going off; the scenery outside is close to that of becoming something of a meteorologist's concern and a scientific anomaly, yet the news and every other information outlet available continues to report it as something of lesser concern than what it is.

As you stare outside, Frisk now resting on your lap, you worry over two things: the lost meeting at your office, and the stranded car belonging to Sans's brother. You comb your fingers through Frisk's hair, using that as a means of entertainment from your worries. They're still sleeping soundly, tired out by both finishing their homework and playing with you at the indoor, mini playground Toriel set up for them.

"I'll pay for any damages to your car as soon as this clears up." You direct your words at Papyrus, who stops gazing outside to face you, looking dazed. His mind looks to be somewhere else, though another squint at your appearance makes him snap out of it.

"That is the least of my concerns now, (L/N)." He smiles at you, leaving the window to crouch next to you, couch occupied with Frisk, Sans, and yourself. "I can go look for it tomorrow morning. And as for whatever damages it gets, I am certain my insurance will look over this case! There have been plenty of reports discussing the damages made by the rain, so it is not my greatest worry." His gaze falls on Frisk, a warmer look reaching his face. "Do you want me to carry them back to bed? It's getting late!"

"It's fine-"

"Please, I insist!"

You smile at his persistence, far more endearing than his older brother's. The thought makes you pay attention back towards Sans, who's still showing signs of exhaustion on his body, slumped over to the corner. His eye sockets are closed, dark circles beginning to show under them. 

"Thank you." You pay attention back to Papyrus, who takes Frisk in his hold, propping them safe with both arms.

You stand up, ready to help out, yet he dismisses your actions with the words, "Stay and chat with Toriel. I assume you both still have plenty to talk about, don't you? You should take this opportunity to talk with her and the other ladies! Perhaps then, you can leave this place with a different perspective by the time the rain stops."

"I will." You nod and watch him leave, carrying your child up in his arms with seemingly no difficulty. His steps fade as so does his figure, leaving you be with Sans sleeping at the couch, the owner of the house by the kitchen, and Undyne and Alphys standing by the living room. The pair's gazes are occupied on the window, carrying a similar expression to Papyrus's from earlier before.

You don't even know how to start up another conversation with the last one having ended poorly, yet try again by using the easiest route possible: going over to Toriel and asking if she needs help with dinner. You stand up and stretch out, legs numb with how long Frisk had been sitting on your lap. It's only fortunate tomorrow's Friday, the beginning of another weekend.

"Can I help with anything?"

Those are the first words you say as you enter the kitchen, greeted by the smell of boiling vegetables and the sound of a knife against a cutting board. Toriel's next to the stove, cutting some carrots, but stopping to look at you. A smile forms on her face, and she nods once, pointing with her gaze at the potatoes resting on the counter next to hers. "Did Frisk go back to sleep?" she asks, facing back at the carrots again, continuing with her work. "I am amazed at how much energy they have, and how little they want to sleep now that they've seen how many people are in this home. It is only when I insist that they need to rest up for the sake of their health that they do so."

While you're not sure if she's being indirect or not, the goat lady's words lead you to assume one thing, and that's Frisk not wanting to waste time sleeping when at the monsters' home. With you, they went out like a light, going to sleep right when you told them to. Only when there was a full house and when family members came to visit did they break that rule, far too excited over the new faces for them to sleep. 

"Papyrus took them back to their room," you reply, reminding yourself not to let your thoughts drift again. "And that's... normal for them, actually." You decide to be truthful with her, following Papyrus's advice. "They usually don't like to sleep when they're too excited about something. Every time my family visits, they're just a big ball of energy and don't sleep until everyone's doing the same." A smile forms at that, a memory from when your ex came to visit Frisk slipping through. "When my, um… ex-husband used to visit, they would stay up late playing games with him. So I guess Frisk feels the same way about you and their other monster friends."

With the potatoes already washed and peeled, all that's left is to cut them and throw them into the pot. You ask her over what size you should cut them, turning your back to her again when you're given an answer. "Is there anything you would like to ask me about, (L/N)?" Toriel asks, speaking in between cuts. "If there is any doubt you have over me, and even over Dreemurr, Sans, and others I know well, I can inform you about it. But as for things that are personal, that is up to them."

Thunder crashes at the nearby window just as you're slicing, finger almost ending up in the same condition as the potatoes, but prevented by your reflexes. The lights go out on par with another loud blast of lightning, plenty more violent than the first one. 

"Goodness!" you hear Toriel say. 

You follow the sound of her voice to see a sphere of flames held up in her hand; it reveals her face, now furrowed with worry. "Are you alright?"

"I'm alright." You set the knife aside and join her side, following her orders when she informs you there are candles on the bottom drawer beside her. You act quickly, taking them out and lighting them up with the help of her fire magic. "Are you?"

She nods, a gentle look crossing her. "We should go check on the others." Her gaze points back at the drawer, left open. "Could you bring more of those?"

"Of course, ma'am."

You take the emptiest box of the three and follow her out of the kitchen.

Your surroundings are now left pitch dark except for a bright and glowing, blue spear held out by Undyne, Alphys standing next to her. A tall figure holding up a smaller one can be seen near the couch, people who you assume are Papyrus and Frisk based on who's the only one left to find. "Has anyone seen Sans?" Papyrus asks, fret tracing his voice. "He's not on the couch anymore!"

Looking to where he points at, you see he's right. The couch is empty with the exception of your and Frisk's belongings. Not even a trace of him can be seen left around, making it appear as if he's outright vanished from existence, and not even the dim lighting produced by the candles can aid with tracking him down amongst all the people, objects, and darkness laid around.

While others assemble and call out for Sans as they search through all the rooms they could possibly imagine finding him in, you try to come up with a different solution besides that. Him disappearing was more than unlikely considering he didn't have any magic or energy left in him for teleportation, so you rule that out as a possibility and take a moment to observe your surroundings a bit closer. You look at the couch again, as if still expecting to catch a glimpse of him there despite what you're doing right now. But as fate would have it, your keys pop into your mind when you come across the sight of your suit jacket, umbrella, and all other belongings left behind on a corner of the couch, most of these stored away in a bag or left nearby it. 

Reminded over what your car keys have attached to them, you go look for them, bumping into someone right as you're about to make it there. 

You wobble and -- at the feeling of losing balance -- you act fast. You break your own fall and later grab onto the person to prevent them from falling, though you don't need to do much when you notice their height doesn't reach that much higher than your chest. Add to that your sturdier body helping with breaking the fall, and you've managed to stop the both of you from fully crashing into each other or stumbling to the floor.

You sit down on the couch when you feel you're losing your balance and hold the person upright. You then let go to look through your bag, retrieving the keys and -- along with them -- a small, solar flashlight hanging from it. The light's directed right at the person's face, revealing Sans's, who looks as if caught in a bad deed. 

"Are you okay?" You don't bother over bringing up the fact he face-planted right into your chest, nor that his hands gripped tight onto your waist for support; the sheer sincerity of his surprise at bumping into you makes you assume he hadn't done it on purpose.

"I'm, uh… I'm fine." His words are just as spacey as his gaze, and his irises point at the floor for a second, spacing off yet again. "Sorry about that." He sits right beside you on the couch, facing up to meet with your eyes. "I was gonna check up on the ceiling since it's rainin' so hard. Kinda looks like it'll start leakin' soon."

Thunder strikes again, sending the monster back into your hold. His hands grip onto your shirt next as he freezes up in place, just before he can get to reveal the true meaning over his disappearance.

"Are you… Are you scared over this?" You try to push down your amusement, yet are unable to when you see his grip is tight enough to remind you of a cat being frightened. 

When another one strikes, louder than the rest, you bring up another question while biting back a smile. "Is it… Is it the noise?" He tenses up even more, encouraging you to bring him closer, his current proximity far different from his attempts at flirting with you. "Sans." You call out his name, attempting to snap him out of it. "What's wrong? You're as cold as ice!"

He doesn't react, though you can feel him shake and shiver under your hold. You look down at him to see his eye sockets are tightly shut. How much he's scooted closer makes him sit on your lap, though his smaller figure helps you with keeping him safe and balanced in your hold. 

As you keep him that way, you can only ask yourself one thing:

Would you come off as an insensitive jerk if you decided to tease him over this in the future?

At the sound of a louder crash, the skeleton's unresponsive, caught up in his fear.

...Or would it work best not to take that risk?

For the time being, you hold him closer. 

The feeling of everyone's eyes on you surges when you move your eyes away from the skeleton to look around you. In contrast, you see Papyrus and Frisk too busy playing with a candle to notice what's happening, along with Toriel having all her attention on lighting more candles. It's only Alphys and Undyne who take notice, both their faces equally enlightened by what's unfolding on the couch. They look ready to yap their mouths off over the situation between you and the one clinging onto you, yet one sharp look of caution at the two keeps them from saying anything risky about it.

Whether they knew about Sans's fear you didn't know about, and whether he wanted it to be known you weren't aware of, either. For now, you hold him close, trying your best to ignore the women's stares and waiting until Sans snaps out of it. His hold on you's firm and close, needful and impartial as the thunderstorm continues to gain strength.

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[miraculousmarifan]

Felinette Month 2020 - Day 6: Detective

Enjoy this unedited, angsty fic for another wonderful @felinettenovember prompt. I attempted to do something different but I’m seeing wayyyyyy too much of my own thought process projected onto both Marinette and Felix. 

Have fun! Around 1700 words

"Stop laughing at me! I'm telling you that I think she's cheating on me. Why are you still laughing?" Felix spiraled while Claude continued laughing. 

"This is Marinette we're talking about! What could possibly convince you that she was cheating?" Claude gasped out between laughs. Felix had been growing redder by the minute under his indignation.

“She has been sneaking around, avoiding me whenever there is a spare minute to chat, whispering to her friends and suddenly quieting and flushing whenever she catches sight of me. She won’t even look me in the eyes anymore. All I wanted was to ask her on a date for tomorrow, take her someplace nice and quiet where she can relax and we can just talk. I even got her a nice necklace that will be gorgeous with most of her outfits. How would you explain her sneaking off every day?” Felix had already worked himself into a panic, rolling it around in his head over and over until he came to the only explanation that made sense. Marinette had to be cheating. He didn’t know with whom. She was so lively and sweet, friends with everyone, and many guys (and a few girls) had a thing for her. It could be just about anyone. 

“Marinette has the decency to at least break up with you if she was going to choose another guy. You know that. I know that. Let’s not pretend like that is even possible.” Claude sobered, finally realizing that Felix wasn’t in a good enough place with this. “Look, I know she’s the best thing that’s happened to you in a while and that you’ve been really stressed out lately, but you need to take a few deep breaths before you drive yourself crazy. Don’t you think that it’s more likely that she’s just busy and stressed out working on some project? Don’t her classmates constantly ask her to design and make them stuff, especially for events? Isn’t that more likely?”

“That’s not it. Trust me, I can tell. Just because this is our first Valentine’s Day together, doesn’t mean I'm new to her patterns. She is avoiding me,” Felix glumly asserted. The bell sounded, releasing them from school for the day. Felix grabbed his bag and quickly walked towards Marinette’s class. At the last moment, he changed his mind about going directly to her and hid near a column.

“I’m just nervous that he’s going to find out. This isn’t something small to hide and it’s been really hard. I can’t even look at him right now.” Marinette sighed to Alya, walking quickly towards the door. “I need to hurry so I’m not late to meet Luka. Thanks for listening to me rambling!” 

Felix tried to quickly follow out of the school, sneaking to find out why she was so determined to meet Luka. He hadn’t met Luka yet, but he knew from context that he had already confessed to Marinette, prior to when they began dating, and Marinette had seriously considered dating him. Instead of accepting she chose to wait and see how I felt about her… Oh no… she regrets it but doesn’t want to ruin my Valentine’s Day! 

Felix fought against the overwhelming weight of self-depreciation and fear, trying to follow Marinette down the street towards the Seine so he could at least confirm with his own eyes. He was so caught up in his own panic that he nearly lost her when she stopped in line to grab two hot chocolates. Ducking into a shop when he realized his mistake, he watched and chastised himself. This is why Marinette is going to him. Even when I’m trying to focus on her, I’m only thinking of me.

Within a few minutes, Marinette was on the move again with Felix secretly in tow. Luka was waiting outside the house boat and gladly accepted the hot chocolate. Felix couldn’t believe that he tried to hand Marinette a few euros to cover the cost. Luka handed her back the hot chocolate and quickly jogged onto the deck to grab his backpack. With an overly full bag, the two started off again, talking quickly as they walked swiftly. Felix knew he needed to focus on how they interacted before confronting Marinette about this. She shouldn’t be stuck with him if she was unhappy, even if it would make Valentine’s Day disappointing for him.

Soon the pair were turning down a strange alley, not sketchy per say but definitely not where Felix was expecting. He tried to peer around before turning in but quickly realized he was alone in the alley. He hurried in, looking around for where they could’ve gone before noticing a ladder leading up to a small terrace, mostly hidden from view. The flush that was developing from all of this exercise quickly drained and the pit steadily growing in his stomach became unbearable.

Marinette’s laugh rang out from above. If he backed up and peered up, Felix could see some hanging lights and possibly some lawn furniture. They were definitely up there. He knew he wouldn’t have the courage to wait for them to leave to confront them, so he needed to go up. Another deep breath first, to steady his nerves.

He grabbed the ladder and started to climb. Poking his head up through the opening to the terrace, he glanced around and saw unfinished decorations in excess. Marinette still trying to hang some things up, curtains? And Luka setting up a table with candles and fake flowers? Oh god. I walked in on them preparing their date… I need to get this over with. 

“Marinette…” his voice came out shakier than he wanted but he hoped she wouldn’t notice. He moved to sit on the ground near the ladder. Her head turned in a strange, jerky motion that betrayed either fear or guilt, Felix couldn’t decide. Her mouth dropped in surprise.

“What’re you doing here right now? You weren’t supposed to see this yet,” she blurted out. Luka also looked over at the two and looked embarrassed at being there.

“Unless you want me to stay and help you with anything else, I think I’ll just leave now.” Luka picked up his bag and walked towards the ladder, faster than a walk but smooth enough to not really look like running away. Felix looked him in the eyes as he approached.

“That’s probably a good idea. I’m sure that Marinette will fill you in on anything important later,” his tone was sharp, nearly accusatory. He didn’t feel much patience towards the other boy right now, even if they weren’t actively engaged in anything when he got up to this hideaway.

“So Marinette, do you want to discuss why you’ve been avoiding me lately and going to secret places alone with Luka?” Felix hoped he sounded more calm than he felt as he stared coldly at Marinette. It hurt to look at her like this, to feel so abandoned by the one person that felt like home.

“Well for one, this is the first time that Luka and I have been alone and others are planning on coming, unless Luka texted them not to. I’ve been enlisting his and a few others’ help to get this set up,” she turned, gesturing to the decorations set up. “The only parts left to do involved putting up the canopy, just in case it gets wet before tomorrow night, the curtains, for a little more insulation from the weather, and to set up these last few details that might’ve blown away if I left them outside. It was a rather big project so I wanted to make sure every piece went smoothly. As for the avoiding part… it’s actually rather difficult not to talk about this and ruin the surprise for you but I guess that won’t be an issue anymore,” Marinette grinned sheepishly at the floor. She took a few steps closer and sat down on the ground, a few feet from him to let him process, but looking more earnestly at him. He appreciated that she knew how he preferred space while working through topics but loved contact the moment he was done, and this was definitely a lot to process.

“I need you to explain more clearly what is happening. This all seemed like you were cheating on me, or at least planning to break up with me, but your words don’t make sense with that right now,” Felix couldn’t keep from pleading. She had thrown a lifeline while he was drowning but that didn’t mean she was planning on helping pull him back to the boat. He remembered her firm insistence that he treat others with better manners outside of formal events and added after the moment’s hesitation, “Please.”

“Oh Felix… I’m so sorry that this gave you the impression that that was happening here. I knew you’d been getting busier at home and wanted to throw you a little getaway where we probably wouldn’t be found by your bodyguard right away so you could relax more… I needed help from the others to find this place, get approval to use it for about a couple of weeks, and to set up all of this without the risk of it getting ruined. I just wanted the best surprise for you for our first Valentine’s Day together…” As Marinette spoke, Felix’s eyes widened before dropping his head into his hands.

“My god Marinette. I am such an idiot. Here I thought I was some amazing detective, figuring out the mystery and really I just worked myself up. Claude was right. I was thinking so much about everything that I drove myself crazy,” Felix couldn’t help but bitterly laugh at the idea. 

“So he didn’t tell you what was happening when you were freaking out?” Marinette straightened up and pulled his hands into hers, eyes deadly serious.

“What do you mean? He just told me that you cheating wasn’t possible and I needed to take a few deep breaths to calm down…” Felix couldn’t quite grasp why Marinette looked flabbergasted.

“Well Claude and I need to sit down and discuss when it’s an appropriate time to break the code of silence for a surprise. Spiraling like this is an appropriate time to let you in on the surprise. My goodness…”

Felix finally understood.

“I’m going to kill him for not telling me at that point.”

[goodnightyoongi]

Yoongi x fem!reader pt4

genre: hurt/comfort/smut

rating: E

word count: 4,5k

summary: In this series, Yoongi and you are childhood friends, and he’s helping you through some issues you’ve been facing lately, while your relationship slowly blossoms into something more. 

warnings: implied depression, self-critical thoughts, EXPLICIT SMUT (oral sex) in the later part of this chap. Start and finish are indicated

Can be read standalone, but is part of a chaptered series

Part I: Catalyze

Part II: Flicker

Part III: Rise

“...and yeah, that’s...why I haven’t been keeping up with my schoolwork.”

You finished the sentence with a timid glance at the curly-haired woman on the other side of the desk. Her hands were knitted on top of the table, one of her eyebrows slightly arched. You understood why. Answering the question “so what seems to be the issue here,  Miss Y/LN ?” hadn’t been easy, and you were pretty sure it hadn’t made sense, either. 

Basically, you had just stuttered some disjointed, vague gibberish about "feeling a little under the weather lately". Aka, nowhere close to the truth. And now, the anxiety was making itself known. In the form of beads of moisture running down your neck, and your hands fidgeting in your lap.

Because you didn’t want to be here. In fact you wanted to be anywhere but here.

But once again, Yoongi had showed himself perfectly able to push you into motion and help get you back on track. Using his steady, encouraging flow of reassurances, and fingers laced into yours as he pulled you with him to your final destination. And now you were here. Squirming uncomfortably in a chair in the university counselors office, and discussing why you had fallen behind on your studies, all entirely against your will if you were honest.

Your eyes wandered over the neat rows of folders on white shelves, the piles of documents on her desk, the sterile academic environment. Run, is what your brain told you. Just get up, walk out, escape this situation – but Yoongi’s hand, inconspicuously resting on your thigh, prevented it.

Because he’d insisted on coming with. And now he sat next to  you, like a parent there to discuss his child’s progression. Clad in his usual uniform, black hoodie and snapback pulled far over his forehead, all in order to avoid being recognized. It worked, and you alone had the counselors undivided attention.

“So, if I understand correctly,” she started, pushing her half-moon glasses further up her nose. “You’ve been...feeling ill? That's why you’ve been absent?”

"Uhm...kind of..."

“I see here that you have a lot of overdue assignments...and you haven't attended classes...but it would be best if you book an appointment with the university healthcare, if you have a condition that interferes with your ability to study.”

Your ears heated up as you digested this information. A tiny, sober voice within you told you yes. Do it, open mouth, voice the issue. Another, more overpowering and toxic one told you no. Repeatedly, until it was basically chanting it like a whole firing squad in your brain.

“No, no, I don’t need to. I...uh, I’ll make sure to finish all the assignments, ma'am. Just been feeling a little...unwell, but, yeah. I’m fine.”

You ignored Yoongi’s pointed glare, along with his attempts to kick you in the shin under the desk. Your counselor expressed clear puzzlement over the sudden change in your narrative.

“Oh? But didn’t you say that you’ve been feeling down and experiencing difficulty with keeping up with your studies?”

“Uh...yeah but, it was just a temporary slump,” you lied, and accompanied it with the most convincing smile you could conjure. “I really am fine, and I will catch up on it. Promise.”

“Miss Y/LN...I really do think you should go see the healthcare unit.”

“No need, I’m fine, I’m absolutely –”

“She’s depressed.”

The sharp exclamation draped itself over the three of you, and the office fell silent. You slowly turned to your left, quiet anger flaring in your gut. And Yoongi, the bastard, was wearing a polite smile and blatantly ignoring your burning looks.

The perplexed-looking lady opposite you blinked about a million times in confusion, before clearing her throat.

“Is what your friend is saying true, Miss Y/LN? You've been feeling depressed?”

Your airways were blocked, by what felt like a thick bundle of dry cotton. You didn't get a word out. Yoongi decided to just nod in affirmation on your behalf.

"Yeah, yes, she’s...been down. Not left her apartment much and just slept and not eaten and...I think she needs to see someone.”

“Oh, oh dear...well, that sounds worrying indeed." The lady turned to you with a motherly smile. "I’ll book you an appointment to the healthcare center, Miss Y/LN. They can refer you to a mental health professional if there's a need for that...hold on a moment...”

She started tapping something on her computer, while she kept talking, but you didn’t focus on it much. You were forced to just listen and accept the documents shoved into your hands, with the appointment date and other information. Forced to nod affirmatively when she announced it would be next week.

Not like you were about to go. No way.

Once you were dismissed, you were fuming. You stormed out and over the university grounds, leaving Yoongi and the repeated stream of requests to slow down behind you.

“Y/N, fucking wait – jesus, can you wait!?"

He finally caught you, but you ripped your arm from his grip instantly, backing further away while spitting furious words in his face.

“No, I can’t! Why the hell did you have to tell her that, Yoongi?! You had no right to tell her I’m…”

You came to a screeching halt just as you were about to say it, and gathered yourself. Yoongi regarded you from a distance, his eyes like dark, tranquil oceans as usual.

Always so understanding, always compassionate. Even now when you wanted none of it.

“I’m not depressed. Everything is fine with me.”

You said it with steadfast conviction. Maybe, if you said it enough times, it would become true.

The wind rustled the leaves in the trees around you. It was actually a beautiful day. The warm rays of sunshine heated your back up, and Yoongi’s sympathetic smile was securely in place as always.

“Y/N...I had to. If you get to decide yourself you just dodge your issues and pretend they don't exist for all eternity. I can’t just stand by and witness it anymore, okay? Please just trust me. Everything isn’t fine with you.”

“Yeah it is,” you interjected stubbornly. You shook your head, shook it until nausea hit you and you just stumbled uselessly when trying to vocalize what you felt.

“It is, and I don’t want to go...it makes me feel sick. I don’t want to talk about it...I don’t want to be the person who has something wrong with them, Yoongi...I want to be normal.”

Your voice was suddenly saturated with hysteria and tears, and Yoongi was on you in an instant. Picking you up, just like he always did, collecting the pieces and patching you up again. You sobbed into his hoodie, and asked him, over and over again, why it was so hard.

“It’ll get easier,” Yoongi promised. He hugged you as you cried, while a warm breeze blew past and gently ruffled your hair and dried your cheeks. “It will. But not until you face it, hun.”

During the next few days, you spent a lot of time hunched over your laptop. Slogging your way through email after email, and doing your best to figure out exactly how far behind you were in your studies. 

Really damn far turned out to be the answer.

You did his best to fix that, finishing up half-written essays and projects collecting dust on your hard drive until you were close to crying from the effort. All of this happened while Yoongi sat next to you, peering over your shoulder and making sure the process was moving forward. But it left you exhausted, and the list of assignments was mile-long.

“I’ll never have energy to finish all this...might as well drop out,” you whined, face buried in your hands, multiple times when it all felt too overwhelming. But Yoongi wasn't about to just accept that. Of course he wasn't.

“Nope, you sure as hell won’t,” was his stern reply to that. He was like an impenetrable wall you couldn't bulldoze your way through, and so you remained in front of the laptop, while his hawk eyes made sure your attention stayed on the screen.

Annoying. It was, but you had to admit it was effective. After many cups of espresso and bordering-on-meltdowns the list gradually shortened, and you were left slightly less stressed. But you’d transformed into a wet rag at the end of it, a wet rag that Yoongi transported to the couch and kissed and hugged and showered with compliments about how you were doing so well.

And it felt good, admittedly. Even though he must be lying through his teeth. His arms wrapped around you also felt great, and his gentle kisses made you all tingly – but that was the problem. He was too gentle. Too soft, like you were some kind of fragile flower to be handled with care.

Yet another week had passed since your almost-steamy-encounter on Yoongi’s couch. Another week’s worth of wet daydreams, of imagining the two of you in scenarios that stretched so much further than just kissing. Another week’s worth of not daring to make the first move.

Because without alcohol flowing through you, you remained much too shy and insecure, even though he was your boyfriend now.

The desire you felt for him made your blood pump faster, made your lower regions heat up. Every time Yoongi held you, every time he sat next to you with his elbows leaning on the table. Because you just wanted so badly for those veiny hands to undress you. To wrap around you. To travel further down and envelop you, all of you.

But at the same time, you were scared when imagining it.

Maybe Yoongi’s vision of you wouldn’t match the reality, the you hidden underneath the oversized sweaters and baggy sweatpants you’d worn for the past week. Maybe he would just see what you saw in the mirror. 

Someone a little too gray and washed out, who didn’t get nearly enough sun and who lacked that rosy, healthy glow on their cheeks.

Maybe Yoongi’s feelings would even cool once he saw your body. Despite all the things he’d said for the past weeks about how you were gorgeous and beautiful and perfect. 

The thought brought you close to tears.

You just felt like an illusion, about to crumble anytime now.

All of this messed things up, and soon you found yourself in bed. At 5PM on a Saturday evening. And all of Yoongi’s messages sat in your phone, unread and ignored since a good 24 hours.

You were pushing him away again, and it was just a matter of time until the doorbell would ring.

It did, like an ominous church bell ordering you to return to the land of the living. And you dragged yourself over the same damn floor, towards the same damn door, mentally preparing for yet another lecture by the same person you’d let down, again.

“Hey there, bun,” Yoongi greeted casually, leaning against the wall in the corridor when the door slid open. “What’s up? Ignoring my messages again?”

“Yes,” you confirmed dully. Unnecessary to pretend otherwise, and you were aware how wantonly snappy you sounded. Yoongi took absolutely zero notice of it. He looked stunning as ever, the dark hair slightly tousled by the wind and hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

Hands that still hadn’t touched you where you wanted them to and when would they?

You slammed the door with unnecessary force after Yoongi strode past you, causing him to turn around in surprise.

“Woah? Easy with that. Bad mood huh? Look kinda rough.”

“Yeah. I always look kinda rough, if you haven't noticed.”

“Hold it right there. Don’t twist it into something it’s not. I just meant you look a little tired.”

He gave you a sharp glance, a warning that clearly told you "don't even try to argue". You yielded, heaving unhappily. 

“I’m sorry. I just...I wasn’t feeling well, and everything just felt shit, and...I couldn’t get out of it”

“Uhuh...that’s...kinda why you need some help, sweetie.”

“I don’t need help.”

You tried, but it was weak at this point. Yoongi closed in on you, raising a hand to cradle your cheek and sneaking the other one around the small of your back.

“Sorry to slap you with uncomfortable truths, but...yeah, you do. And I understand that your mood shifts and you want to be alone sometimes...but please don’t ignore my texts. You're making me sick with worry when you don't answer. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Alright, baby. So did you shower today?”

“No.”

“Eat?”

“No.”

“Y/N...that’s no good." He trapped you in a kiss, before separating you and giving you another look that left no room for arguing. "Come on. Go get showered or changed and whatever you need and let’s head to the shop.”

You huffed, turned and stomped off to your bedroom without a word.

Getting changed and going outdoors didn’t feel tempting at all. You dug through your closet, but once again there was nothing of use, because once again you'd failed to do the laundry. Because you’d been nestled in bed instead. And crawling into it again felt like a splendid idea now.

"How's it going over here?"

Yoongi had made an appearance in the doorway. He raised a critical eyebrow, skeptically eyeing the pajama shorts and coffee-stained t-shirt you were still wearing. You just stared blankly ahead, cross legged on the bed and not about to move another inch if you could avoid it.

"Badly. Have nothing to wear and I'm hideous."

You knew how that sounded, oh you knew. But you could do absolutely zilch to prevent it. Yoongi closed the distance between you, his gaze oddly dark, like a looming thunderstorm.

"Stop saying those things about yourself."

You bounced up, gurgling with unidentified frustration you just couldn’t seem to kick.

"No. Because it's true."

“It's really not. I understand it feels true to you. But you’re stuck with these ideas about yourself, because you’re seeing everything through a skewed lens. That makes you overly critical of yourself. Understand, baby?”

“Nope. You’re fucking wrong.”

Yoongi's finger on your mouth silenced you. He was right in front of you now, and he leaned in until his lips brushed over your ear.

"You're not hideous. Get that through your thick skull."

And then he pulled back, and kissed you. And it wasn't gentle. In fact it was everything but gentle. It was demanding, his tongue finding its way into your mouth and his fingers weaving themselves into your hair and his nails scraping over your scalp.

When you finally parted, your body was already in overdrive, your pulse crashing through your veins and your lower regions practically on fire and thumping almost painfully.

"Think it's about time I touched you, huh,” Yoongi pondered, eyes half-lidded and with his finger pressed down on your lower lip.

You just swallowed, whining something that sounded like "uhuh" in response. Yoongi's hands were all over you in an instant. He swung you around with your back facing him, and moved your hair out of the way so he could press feather light kisses down the junction of your neck. You were lost, to the unexpected shivers worming all over your skin, lost until you heard a request that made your knees weak.

"Is it okay if I take off your clothes?"

"Ye– yeah," you managed, without really thinking. There was just a split second of self-consciousness, and then your shirt was pulled over your head, your shorts hiked down – and you were bare, save for your underwear. You went rigid for a second, shielding yourself, but Yoongi untangled you quickly.

"Nah, none of that. Don’t do that. Let me see you."

He looped his own arms around your waist, and sprinkled kisses all over your exposed skin – your shoulders, your jawline, everywhere he could reach. And then, he spun both of you around. Facing the full length mirror, the one you’d been about to throw out so many times now.

"Look at yourself."

You looked. And looked away the next second. You saw yourself, the body you hadn’t studied for a while. You saw your skin illuminated by the lamplight, showing every little imperfection in unforgiving technicolor. And you saw Yoongi's toned arms blanketing you.

"Yeah, I'm looking. What's there to see? I'm, just...whatever. Just...meh."

"No. Not meh. Everything but meh. Stubborn, a little bratty, but definitely not meh."

He forked fingers into your hair, yanking you back to stress the fact.

"Or ugly. Or useless Or anything negative you want to imagine. I know you don’t see it yourself, but trust me, then. Can you do that?"

“Maybe.”

^^^^^^^^

You couldn’t, still – but you were coming undone, basically unable to speak, unable to do anything but succumb to Yoongi's voice and touch and tongue leaving goosebumps all over your skin. 

Your breaths picked up as he unhooked your bra, sliding it off and throwing it to the side. You let out a pitchy whimper and dropped your gaze as he cupped your breasts. One by one, gently caressing them and rolling the pink buds between his fingers.

“Beautiful. Beautiful and mine,” he whispered into your hair.

He kept one hand loosely around your throat, while the other traveled down your spine – down, down down and all the way down. There, he gathered one of your asscheeks into his hand, squeezing possessively and pressing his own, very blatant boner against your ass.

“This too,” he purred cheekily, a little louder, and slapped it once, very lightly. 

And you choked.

Well, nearly. Choked on the feeling of the pulsating, warm and very real body pushed up against you. It infused you with a craving that practically hurt, and you gasped in surprise when Yoongi’s hand snaked its way to your front, sliding down to part your thighs. He nibbled on your neck, while his fingers found your clit, lightly brushing over it and drawing moan after bated moan from you.

"You're hot, okay. I love your face, I love your body, I love your personality, you’re gorgeous and don't ever doubt that." Yoongi murmured, while stroking you through your underwear and holding you steady with his free hand. "I've wanted to fuck you for ages."

Oh shit. Okay. All you could do was whimper needily in response. The sinful confessions into your ear made your head spin violently – and that voice. Surely couldn’t belong to Yoongi – it was too husky, just oozing dominance – but it did. It did and it seeped right into every corner of you, into every cell of your body all the way into your fingertips and not least, your crotch.

And you felt like you might suffocate from the pressure. From Yoongi's fingers rubbing teasing circles all over you, his breath hot and wet against the nape of your neck.

"I want to see you too,” you whined, wrenching yourself loose and pawing desperately at his t-shirt.

"Sure thing, baby.”

You held your breath while his clothes were discarded. Shirt, jeans, briefs, and then he stood there, stripped in front of you. Not just a smudgy almost-Yoongi in one of your vivid dreams, but the real Yoongi. With a heinous twinkle playing in his mischievous eyes, his posture self-assured and his dick half-hard and smooth and...actually a little menacingly thick in girth.

You swallowed down the nervously flapping butterflies, and stepped forward, tentatively running hands all down his pale chest and around his back and his ass and absolutely everywhere.

You’d imagined this man naked so many times. All throughout your adolescence, and now that it finally happened, it felt like some trippy dream.

"God, you’re fucking...beautiful, Yoongi.”

"Says you.”

He grabbed you, kissing you and pressing the two of you together, with his hands firmly on your ass. And you heated up to scorching temperatures, while your brain was filled with only one thought.

“I want you.”

“Want you too. But we’re taking it slow.”

You grumbled, but he just briefly let his finger travel into your mouth, and smirked in response when you sucked on it like it was a lollipop. Then, you were hauled up and lowered onto the bed on your back, and turned into a shivering, whimpering wreck of a person. Yoongi kissed you, pushing his tongue in to drag it over the roof of your mouth, and continuing down your torso, your chest, your tummy until you shivered pleasantly underneath him. 

He mumbled little words of praise at you while he went, and your breath came out shorter and shorter the further down he traveled. Soon he had to tell you to remember to even breathe.

“Relax. You’re so pretty, been wanting you for so long.”

He parted your legs gently, wrapping his hand around your thigh and sucking teasing love bites into the sensitive skin until you were almost crying from the sensation.

“Want me to touch you, baby? Can I take these off?”

You curled your spine against the sheets, desperate for him to just do it already. “Yeah – yeah. Please.” 

"Good. Cause I'm really dying to."

Your panties slid off, finally, and Yoongi crawled between your legs, blinking up at you, dark eyes clouded with lust and tousled bangs falling into his forehead.  All of you was practically vibrating, filled with electricity sprouting underneath the tips of his fingers as he rested one hand on your tummy and settled the other one between your legs.

“Look at you...already so wet for me.” He spread you with a thumb, sliding it between your lips, and you whined in response. Not like he was wrong. You’d basically been soaking wet since that first kiss. “So pretty. I want to make you feel good, hun. Can I eat you out? Do you want that?”

You nodded frantically. You could feel your release literally around the corner, and whatever Yoongi was about to do to you would lure it out at record speed. He offered you one of his gummy grins, gripping your thighs with both hands for leverage and pushed his pink tongue out, dragging it all over your clit and making you cringe against the sheets. 

“God – Yoongi, holy shit-”

“You taste good. Fucking sexy as hell.”

You didn’t care about restraining yourself anymore. You allowed yourself to moan unabashedly while he sucked on your clit, and tantalized you by pushing his tongue into you and pulling it out the next second.

You hadn't been touched for so long, you hadn't come for so long . An eternity. And now you watched, eyes feverish, as Yoongi turned you into a slobbering mess in minutes. Your orgasm was close, and Yoongi must have felt it, because he quickly pulled back, lips glistening and cheeks flushed. 

Next you felt his fingers teasing your entrance, and he threw you a quick, questioning glance and asked, voice hushed and dripping with lust, if it was okay. You hurried to nod again, crying out when he pushed a finger into you, slowly gliding over your walls and filling you up, while his thumb rubbed against your clit. Settling on his knees, he threw one of your legs up and squeezed your thigh as he started finger-fucking you, slowly but surely.

You couldn’t help but wonder, amidst all the hazy pleasure, how the hell he was that skilled with his hands.

Probably because he was experienced. You knew he’d had kind-of-girlfriends, but maybe he'd even had multiple partners. That thought made you irrationally jealous, once again, and also worried you’d appear like a rookie in comparison.

But those thoughts were quickly washed away, for now, as Yoongi hit the spot again, and a pitchy whimper escaped you, echoing through the whole bedroom.

“You’re tight,” he hummed, gaze heavy on you. “How’s that? Feels good?”

“Y– yeah...feels great…”

Your neck cringed, your hands gripping the sheets as he picked up the pace, before adding a second finger. Soon he had two of them knuckle-deep in you, fucking you while working your clit while you squirmed against him to create even more friction. You watched him, his lustful dark eyes plastered on you, the veins in his arms tensing as he brought you closer and closer. 

"Yoongi...I'm gonna...c-come...if you keep doing that–"

"Well that's the goal, right? You're moaning so prettily, turning me wild," Yoongi teased, leaning forward. He positioned himself half-laying on top of you, so he was able to reach your quivering lips while his fingers slid in and out of you.

He kissed you hungrily, and you could feel his cock poking you in the side. You glanced down. There it was, all stiff and veiny and fully erect and – damn.

Yoongi wanted to fuck you with that.

You pictured it, and then you were done for.

"Coming?"

"Uhuh..."

"Go on, baby girl.”

Well. That did it. You shuddered your way through your release, spasming against Yoongi’s fingers and crying out a lewd and elongated “fuck” as you came. You faintly heard Yoongi mumbling something as you rode it out, and then you collapsed into the mattress. Completely drained, and with your chest heaving and droplets of sweat running down your neck.

^^^^^^^^

Yoongi pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, and withdrew his hand. "You okay, pumpkin?"

You nodded wordlessly, slow waves of pleasure still rippling through you. Yoongi sneaked an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against himself and squeezing you tightly. 

"See why I wanted to take it slow now? Yikes...you look like you just finished a marathon. Didn't take you very long.”

He nuzzled into your hair, and you weren’t even able to provide anything coherent in response yet. Soon he announced he was taking you to shower, and before you could protest you’d been scooped up and carried off, bridal-style.

The shower was turned on, and you were dazed when jostled into position underneath the spray of water. It splashed down between the two of you, heating you up as you rested your head against Yoongi’s chest, just enjoying the warmth and being so close to him for now. 

He pushed strands of soaked hair out of your forehead, and propped you up more securely when you were in danger of sagging to the floor. "Are you alright, sweetness?”

“Yeah...sorry, it’s been a while since I, uh…was...touched...”

You quietened, bashfully pushing your nose against his chest again to avoid meeting his eyes. He gave a little chuckle, and ran his hands all over your back in reassuring circles. 

“Yeah, I figured. That’s okay. Just take it easy, baby. I’ll take care of you, don't worry.”

Yoongi gathered you into his arms, and your throbbing muscles were soothed by the flow of hot water. But you also felt a rigid boner poking your thigh, still. Belonging to him. 

You peeked down at it. It was a little intimidating, but you were also eager to return the favor. Even though your tummy turned into slush at the thought of doing something wrong.

You swallowed down a lump, and Yoongi noticed your hesitance. 

“Y/N. Just relax.”

"You're still hard though, I can –"

"Yeah, duh, I'm hard,” Yoongi chuckled, and pressed a tender kiss to your lips to shut you up. “...cause that was hot,” he added, and your cheeks instantly turned tomato-red.

"But we got all the time in the world. I can wait. You're the most important, bun."

"Fine, ugh...okay."

You burrowed into his chest, letting out a soft moan when he squeezed some shampoo out and started massaging it into your scalp. Yep. You could definitely see yourself getting used to this.

[kazoo5480]

Killian’s heart nearly stopped in his chest while he processes what Emma has just said and his hand naturally moves to her stomach. “Love, do you feel differently? I know you have experienced this once before, but have you felt any different?” Emma shakes her head no. “My skins a little sensitive, but it is only a few days behind, with the stress of everything... Neil, Belle, the wedding, I haven’t felt anything that would make me feel that I was. I mean there was the queasiness and vomiting but that was just nerves, it has just been a lot.”

He nods, and just looks down at her, locking on her eyes, and stroked her cheek “Angel, whatever comes will come. If you are that would be a wonderful gift, and if not, then try and try again, right? We are a team in this, in everything we do from now, so I won’t get my hopes up and you won’t either, aye?” and she nods placing a chaste kiss to his lips. She wraps her left arm over his chest to his neck and he just holds her tight, kissing the top of her head. “Sleep angel, we will sort it out in the next few days” and she nods again and closes her eyes and sends a little flare of hope out into the universe that she is, but she still isn’t entirely convinced that she is. She soaks in Killian’s body heat and his tight embrace, knowing even if she isn’t, that he will love her either way and that helps her anxiety relax enough to slip into sleep.

Killian however is laying wide awake now, Emma slumbering on his chest, her soft breaths blowing over his skin. He keeps her wrapped in a tight embrace, while he thinks it over. His hand is possessively over her stomach, it wasn’t intentional, his body just did it. There certainly would be a hundred percent chance she could be with child, it isn’t like they had been careful at all, but with the additional emotional stress they have endured the last two weeks certainly could cause her cycle to be off. It was extremely stressful, and he knew that Emma’s periods in New York were off on occasion by a few days when she wasn’t eating enough or working too much.

He wasn’t going to hope, by god he wasn’t going to put actual feeling into this until a doctor confirmed it. His heart might break, or he may hurt Emma if he reacted like she were, and it turned out they weren’t expecting. He would maintain normalcy in their lives, keep her distracted, make her happy, and she would make an appointment for after their friends departed, and they would find out for sure. His thoughts resolved, and he thought perhaps it might be a good day to take their friends out on the water, it was supposed to be good weather, and this would serve as a perfect distraction. Pleased with the idea, he closed his eyes, letting Emma’s heartbeat against his skin lull him to sleep.

When he woke, Emma was still in his arms asleep. He breathed her in, her hair smelling like vanilla and he was careful not to rouse her yet. A glance at the clock showed it was only 7, she began to stir, and he felt her eyelashes blink, lightly tickling his skin. She glanced up at him and smiled “morning” and he leaned down to kiss her. “How long have you been awake?” she asked, her green eyes still glassy with sleep. “Just a moment” he said quietly and stroked her cheek and lightly kissing her forehead. He could practically feel Emma thinking.

“What’s vexing you angel?” and she shook her head “nothing, really.” He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she smiled at him, “I am fine, really.” He tsked her, “no lying love, or you’ll be punished” he said teasingly, and she smirked. “Killian!” and he rolled over her, spreading her thighs apart with his own to cradle himself against her. He ran his warm hand up her leg skirting the edge of her panties. Emma sighed, and Killian pushed her nightgown higher, bunching it at her hips gently. He lowered himself trailing soft open-mouthed kisses over her belly, and she shuddered at the sensation of him softly slipping his finger further under the fabric, lightly over her folds.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, and she shook her head. “Never” she said back, and he slipped the panties down and off of her. “I want you just like this angel” and he leaned forward, lapping at her. She braced herself on one arm and sunk the other hand into his hair. Killian moaned as he licked at her and she cried out, the vibration so intense, her skin so sensitive. He used his thumbs to spread her folds open wider and continued licking and sucking at her. He plunged his tongue deep inside her, and he felt a gush of warm arousal rush over his tongue, swallowing it down.

He caressed her nub softly while he buried his face into the most delicious place in the world. Emma’s legs were shaking lightly, her soft sighs and small cries music to his ears. He tucked one finger inside her first, softly, and pulled back, slipping a second inside her. He scissored his fingers gently, Emma growing restless. He looked up at his love, her hair fanning out behind her, her face flushed with pleasure and he lifted himself over her as Emma tried to scoot closer, to bring him inside her. “Please” she begged softly running her fingers over his cheekbones and down to his neck, and he began rubbing the tip of his cock through her wet folds.

He sighed as he sank into her warmth, her walls enveloping him tightly, and he leaned down to kiss her. Slipping his tongue in her mouth he rocked into her gently, pushing her higher and higher up the bed with each thrust their bed creaking with their movements. Emma wrapped her legs around his back, and pulled him deeper, holding on to him tightly. She loved when he was gentle like this, making love with her, this live tangible entity that lived and breathed between them. He buried his face in her neck, placing open mouth kisses to her shoulder and neck. His big cock rubbed over a particularly sensitive spot and she cried out, Killian slowed his pace, gently sliding over the spot deep inside of her.

Emma reached up and began rubbing her breasts, trailing her fingers over her sensitive nipples, moaning as she realized how sensitive her skin felt. Killian loved watching her, he continued pushing them higher until she gasped, and his name fell from her pink swollen lips, and he bit down lightly on her neck as she squeezed his cock like a vice. He cried out her name, and spilled deep inside her, her walls fluttering and clenching around him. 

He laid his head on her breasts, his heart beating so hard, and Emma’s soft hands running up and down his back. It was in these moments, that he realized Emma truly loved him, despite any dark deeds, or crimes he committed, she loved him. He would do anything to keep this happy, sated look upon her face, the rose flush in her cheeks, and the wide smile on her face.

He finally found the resolve to move, and he leaned back, slipping wetly out of her, small dribbles of his cum leaking out onto the sheets. He leaned in and lapped at her, licking her clean, and Emma moaned softly, and caressed the side of his face. He stood and grabbed a warm wet cloth and cleaned her up properly, wiping the sheet off as well. Emma was leaning perched on her elbow, a dreamy look on her face, a soft smile directed at him. 

He wiped himself off and sat beside her, “fancy taking the boat out? Properly christening her and all that?” and she nodded. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, but let’s ask M and Dave, I am not sure seasickness will go well with her morning sickness” and he nodded. “Go clean up and I will call over to granny’s, if not the boat today, perhaps we can have another picnic on the beach” and she nodded. She rolled from their bed and he watched her start the shower and standing in profile. He noted while she had gained some weight back in the last few weeks, there was an undeniable teeny tiny curve over her lower belly.

His heart exploded, but he kept his observation to himself. It could be a number of things, Emma tended to swell and feel bloated in the past, and without a blood test there was no way of being sure. She noticed him smiling at her, “What?” and he just shook his head. “You’re beautiful is all” and he slid his robe on walking to the phone to call Dave, he needed to keep it together. Dialing Marco first, he asked if it would be alright to come by and get the boat for her maiden voyage, and Marco was delighted she would be taken out on the water. He said that if their friends were agreeable, that Marco and August were welcome to join them, but Marco said another time, he had a wardrobe to finish.

Dave came to the phone, and he said It would be a wonderful idea, but that M was moving a little slower than them. Killian headed to shower and Emma was dressing, he relayed the plan right before he hopped in, and Emma called ahead to the market for a delivery for a picnic lunch. She grabbed a bag packing towels and swimsuits, a book, and she found some old glass bottles with rubber stoppers, pouring them full of water and lemonade. Killian came out a few minutes later dressed and said he and Dave would go get the boat, and then pick M up on the way back. Emma said she would walk to the docks and see them shortly; the boat launch just down their little road. Killian nodded, and kissed her gently, “Love you” and she nodded. “I love you too.”

Killian’s stomach was twisted the whole way over to Granny’s, he put his mask on so Dave and M wouldn’t pick up on his anguish, and they made it to Marcos where his friend had the workshop doors thrown wide open. August helped secure it to Killian’s car, and declined the invite to help Marco finish the wardrobe, and Killian promised them an excursion upon completion which they happily accepted. Killian pulled up to the launch and reversed in, Dave guiding him from outside the car.

Emma walked up, arms full with a basket and a large tote bag on her arm, and Killian threw the car in park running to her. “Swan you cannot carry all that extra weight love” and he didn’t realize that it came out the way it did before her eyes widened. “Killian I am fine” she said but he saw the flash of fury in her eyes. He took the basket setting it on the dock and M was already walking to Emma taking the bag from her. He knew he would get an earful later, so he focused on the boat.

Once she was lowered in, Killian double checked the life jackets, and the gas level, tested the engine out, everything working perfectly, and he smiled wide. He moved her closer to the mooring post and tied off so that he could help the three others down onto the sailboat with all their items. Emma went last, and sighed, “just don’t, ok?” she said and he nodded and smiled, He called for their attention by bringing out a bottle of champagne and said “while its customary to break this upon your vessel, I have no intentions of marring my swan that way, so instead a toast, a small one for M and three for us as we celebrate a lot of love and labor that I poured into her to make her whole again” and Emma did not miss the meaning of his toast whatsoever. She held her tears back, and smiled nodding in understanding. Killian popped the cork and they each held out glasses, M taking a small sip and they all cheered as he untied them and began to back them out into the harbor.

Emma ran her hands over the wood, she was beautiful, and the work flawless. It both touched and broke her heart, that she was the driving force behind the love he devoted to this boat. She let her anger go with the breeze blowing past them, and all her thoughts of anything besides spending time with the people she loved most right there. Killian had offered them all seasickness tablets, and M and Emma both took one, M’s smile contagious as the wind whipped her long locks around and basking in the sunshine.

Killian didn’t take them too far out in case M got sick, or Emma, but he didn’t say that aloud. There was a steady breeze, and he could sail this boat alone, so he didn’t need help getting her sails up and open. Emma stood at the wheel, and followed his directions, until he came to stand behind her guiding her hands on the wheel. Her giggles were echoing on the wind, her smile radiant, she was absolutely marvelous. His boat, a dream, the two of them together, another piece of his cracked heart clicked back into place and he laughed, smiling and kissed the side of Emma’s neck.

They found a calm spot and Emma unpacked the picnic basket. There were sandwiches, and crisps, lemonade, and cookies. They all ate until they were stuffed, and the girls went below in the small cabin to change into swimsuits. The sun was high now, and Killian stripped off his shirt, fine in his khaki shorts, and Dave threw on a pair of his own shorts from their bag. They all sat smiling and talked about the potential move, and just about old times, the good times. Emma felt so overwhelmed and surrounded by love, it made her realize just how isolated she made herself. She swore to never allow it again, and instinctively put a hand over her belly. Killian noticed it out of the corner of his eye but said nothing. He allowed her that private moment, and no one else noticed.

Emma and Dave jumped in the cold ocean, splashing around, as M lounged reading a book. It was a lovely afternoon, and when the sky began to turn pink, he told them it was time to go, and they all groaned. “Soon enough guys, any time you want during the season, I will even teach Dave here how to sail, and the little lad or lass when they arrive” he directed at M. She beamed at him, “I hope it works out” she said excitedly, and he nodded, they all did. Dave helped him get the boat tied up while he helped the ladies out, and Killian went below deck to make sure nothing was left behind and something caught his eye. A black bag, curious he opened it, and saw money, a lot of it. An envelope with Belle’s name on it, and recalled Robert telling him he left it there for her. He grabbed it wrapping a towel over it and carried it off, no one noticing, except Emma. She looked at him and he shook his head once to her.

Emma asked if they needed to do anything else and he instructed her to take Dave and M back to the cottage to change and then come back for him as he wrapped the sails up and closed her up. She nodded, and the three headed off towards home. Emma changed as well, into her slim black pants, and a soft sweater, telling them she wouldn’t be long. Killian was waiting on the bench when she got back, “what is it?” she asked. “Robert left Belle a parting gift, I will speak with her once Dave and M are back in the city.” “What was the gift?” Killian sighed, “about a hundred grand in cash, maybe more, I stopped counting…” and Emma’s eyes widened “Oh god, Belle…”

He stood and circled her waist, “Belle will be fine. We just aren’t talking any more about it today, ok?” and she nodded kissing him. “I’m sorry for earlier” she whispered, “I wasn’t thinking, and I got mad…” and he kissed her again. “I shouldn’t have said it angel, it just flew out and before I knew it, I had said it” and she nodded. “No more talk of that for now, ok?” and he nodded, leading her to the car, the bag between them on the seat. “Where will we hide it? She asked looking out the window, “the bank” he said, and she said nothing back.

When they got home, Killian headed to their room to change, and stow away the bag. Emma pulled out some ice cream and made coffee, and they wrapped up their last evening with chit chat and told them a bit more about the town. Killian being the longest resident, seemed to know quite a bit of its history and he gave them all the information they asked for. Nine o’clock rolled around, and they all drove back to Granny’s. “A taxi will be here in the morning to take you to the station” Killian said, and Dave smiled. “You spoil us Jones” and he laughed nodding. Hugging each other they all said their goodbyes, and M wanting a phone call every day from them, which they agreed on every other, and they would see them soon for the wedding. Emma drove them home, quiet as she drove, and Killian put on the radio letting a jazz tune croon out of the speakers.

Emma parked and Killian let them in the house, he opened the windows letting the breeze flow through, and made his way back to the bedroom. “I’m going to take a bath” Emma said, and he nodded. She closed the door behind her, and he tidied up the remainder of their dessert, and climbed into bed reading a book. Emma sat in front of the mirror while the tub ran, lifting to the balls of her feet inspecting her stomach. She saw it, the teeniest tiniest curve, but felt nothing, it could be bloating, it could be a number of things Emma she thought. Shaking herself out of it, she would call the doctor in the morning for an appointment and tried to distract herself with other thoughts. What would she do now that she lived here? She should consider what Regina said, a school for music and dance, she was trained in both, and they didn’t have one. It would be nice to be in charge of her own business, and she knew Killian knew everyone that could probably help her. She would talk about it with him tomorrow. Finishing her bath, she dried off, and pulled on her nightgown, brushing her teeth, and putting her lotion on before bed.

She felt nervous, what if she was pregnant? They wanted this, they took no measure to prevent it, and she knew that in a few weeks this permanent hold they felt wasn’t going anywhere ever again. She wished so hard for it to be true as she placed her hand over her belly, and just sent a little hope out there asking anyone listening to grant that wish of hers. She wanted to be a mom, to have a child with Killian, and raise it in this sleepy town near the sea. She wanted to give it love, and holidays, and memories, and traditions, things both her and Killian never had. She wanted it so bad that she didn’t realize the tears leaking down her cheeks until she glanced in the mirror. She used a tissue and cleaned her face up and quietly blew her nose. Unless he looked really closely Killian shouldn’t notice her cheeks or her lightly red rimmed eyes.

Grateful that the lighting was low, she came out into their bedroom and saw him asleep with a book on his chest, leaning over him she shut the light off and took the book from his hands. She laid on her side facing the window, letting the moonlight and the breeze waft over her as she tried to fall asleep.

@captainswanouat @captainswoon @captain-swan-coffee @ao3feed-cs @kmomof4 @onceuponadaily @itsfabianadocarmo @lieutenantswan @kymbersmith-90 @killiansprincss @mrs-emma-swan-jones @hollyethecurious

@stahlop @hookedonkillianforlife87 @holdingoutforapiratehero​

@jrob64 @teamhook @purplehawkcaptain @sals86 @killiancomeback2me @killiansprincss @karlyfr13s @myfearless-love @resident-of-storybrooke

@thesschesthair @the-captains-ayebrows @jonesfandomfanatic @laschatzi @tiganasummertree @donteattheappleshook​ @purplehawkcaptain​

[kiwi-stan]

Crave

Description: AU Harry’s a struggling songwriter until a song about being in lofe with his best friend puts him on the map. My contribution to the pick your poison challenge that @oh-honey-styles​ @for-fucks-sake-h​ and @andwhenshesays​ organized. I haven’t written in so long but this has been a fun way to get back into it now that I have more downtime!

Warnings: None aside from me taking liberties with the process of how writing a song actually works 

Harry’s family had thought he was insane for dropping out of university and moving to LA to try songwriting professionally. And a few years in, he was starting to think that they were right. He hadn’t expected to start working with big names right away, but after two years, he had been hoping to move beyond indie artists who had about a thousand monthly listeners on Spotify. Songwriting was his dream. He loved music, loved creating it, but didn’t want the fame. The inability to step outside without being recognized, the scrutiny, the media attention. He wanted to stay behind the scenes. But he was beginning to think about packing it up, moving back home, and finishing his college degree and getting some boring office job. Until you called and announced that you had found a job in LA after graduating and would be moving. 

You’d been Harry’s best friend since you were both small, when some little boy knocked you off the monkey bars at the park and Harry’s protective instincts-already sharp even back then-had rushed over to check if you were okay. There had been a few awkward years in middle school, when he’d been teased by friends for having a girl friend who wasn’t a girlfriend, but that had resolved itself during a very awkward party where you’d played seven minutes together and had mutually agreed that kissing each other was too weird. Aside from that, your friendship had been solid all throughout school, and had even weathered Harry moving to LA. In fact, you were one of the few people from his hometown that he’d kept in contact with. His parents had cut off contact (and financial support) when he’d dropped out of school without warning, and his emails with his sister were infrequent as she was trying to keep up a positive relationship with their parents. He didn’t really have any LA friends either, a few casual acquaintances but no one who he felt like he could really talk to. 

On the day that you arrived, Harry drove to the airport to pick you up. By the time he navigated traffic and dealt with the nightmare of parking at LAX, it was nearly an hour after your flight had landed and half an hour after you’d sent a text saying that you’d claimed your bags. As he entered the terminal, he was worried that you would be angry about him being late. You never were the type to get annoyed about little things like that and from your video chats you didn’t seem to have changed all that much, but two years was a long time and it could bring about a lot of change in a person. He glanced around the room, full of happy reunions and stressed out men in suits setting out on business trips, when he finally spotted you, nestled in a corner and perched on your suitcase. It was like something out of a movie, how you looked up from your phone just as he spotted you, the two of you locked eyes, and you sprang to your feet and ran toward him, throwing your arms around him in an enthusiastic hug and squealing “Harry”. 

“Sorry I’m late.” There were so many things he wanted to say to you, how much he missed you, how happy he was that you were moving, stories he hadn’t wanted to tell over FaceTime. But for some reason, an apology was the first thing that popped out of his mouth. “Traffic was horrible then I had to park…” 

You pulled away from him to wave a hand, dismissing his apology and Harry got his first real look at you. He’d noticed from your Facetime chats that you’d changed your hair to a shorter style and that you’d started wearing more makeup, both choices that were probably seen as “more professional”. Otherwise, you looked about the same, but seeing you in person he noticed that there was a difference in the way you carried yourself. You seemed older, more mature, with the kind of confidence that he assumed came from graduating college and moving across the country on your own. He wondered if he had the same aura around him. “I missed you.” You said, picking up your suitcase and dragging Harry away from his thoughts. “And I cannot thank you enough for letting me stay with you.” You’d explained over FaceTime that the job you’d been offered had wanted you to start right away, not even considering that you would need time to deal with the logistics of moving or finding a place to live. Lucky for you, Harry had stepped in. 

“I missed you too,” Harry took your suitcase from you, dragging it behind him and tugging it toward the exit. “And don’t say that until you see my place.” 

******* 

You’d been worried that things with Harry would have changed in the two years that he’d been gone. But as he took the long drive back to his apartment, you slipped right back into your old friendship, joking and swapping stories. You updated him about what all of your old high school friends were up to and he told you stories about all the weird LA types that he’d met. You’d never admit this, but you’d been worried that he might have turned into one of them since he left, burning sage and displaying an unhealthy obsession posting to Instagram. He seemed like his old self in texts and on your video chats, but you had thought he might be hiding that part of him. You were relieved to see that Harry was still his old self. However, a new set of worries about Harry sprouted as he turned into his neighborhood. 

Harry had alluded to money troubles while you’d been apart, so you had known that he wasn’t living in Beverly Hills. However, you also weren’t really expecting dark streets, abandoned buildings, and liquor stores with bars over the windows. Harry parked outside a seedy looking building and led you up to his apartment, which was the size of a shoebox and overwhelmed with cardboard boxes full of your things. He’d been nice enough to tell you to ship some of your things to his address, though he hadn’t mentioned how tiny his apartment was. By the time Harry had cleared everything off the futon so you could sleep, you’d seen three roaches scurry across the floor and you’d made your mind up. 

“Once I find a place you’re moving in with me.” Harry opened his mouth to protest, but you held firm. “Don’t argue. Why didn’t you tell me you were living in a shithole?” You glanced around the small space and another problem occurred to you. “Where exactly are you planning to sleep?” 

“The floor I guess,” He said, gesturing to the sliver of space near the lone window that wasn’t occupied by furniture or boxes. 

You shook your head, thinking back to the roaches you’d seen and the shag carpet that probably hadn’t been cleaned since the 70s. “No way. You’re sleeping with me. It’s not like we haven’t done it before.” It might feel a little strange after your time apart, but back before he dropped out Harry had slept in your tiny twin bed in your dorm room tons of times, sometimes because he’d had a fight with his roommate, sometimes because he was drunk and your room was closer, and sometimes just because he was lonely. You couldn’t even count the number of times you and Harry had slept together platonically. However, a few hours later, when you finally nestled under the covers together-with Harry’s body pressed up against yours, he was big on cuddling (and the small bed didn’t leave you much room to spread out anyway)-you found yourself wondering why something felt different. 

***********

Harry started writing a song that night, about being in love with your best friend. He didn’t have the whole thing right away, which wasn’t usually how he wrote. Usually inspiration came fast, and he could write a whole song in the burst of manic energy he got when it struck. The chorus came that first night when you slept together, about you pressed up against him in a city full of dark alleys. 

The rest came to him slowly over the next few months, as you started your job and found a slightly better apartment to live in. With your entry level salary it wasn’t anything fancy, but it was in an area that made you feel safer and had two bedrooms, though Harry found that he slept worse without you near him and spent many nights tossing and turning before finally falling into a fitful sleep around 3 AM. 

Though you’d been basically joined at the hip since you were young, you and Harry hadn’t shared space like this before. The apartment was still small, which meant that you and Harry were still constantly tripping over each other. Harry had thought it might be annoying, and had even worried that it would fracture your friendship, but it hadn’t. Living together seemed almost natural for the two of you. It meant that he could hear you singing when you came home from work, which meant that you had a good day and would be in the mood to cook something elaborate for dinner, or when you slammed the front door and he knew that you’d had a bad day and that he should order your favorite take out. He found your bobby pins all over the bathroom floor, he sat and watched The Bachelor with you on Monday nights, and he stole your fuzzy socks as the nights started getting cooler. Harry worked on his song while you were at work when he wasn’t at writing sessions for other people, and by the time he finished he felt that it was the best thing he’d ever written. 

Harry knew exactly why the song (currently cryptically titled with an anagram of your name) was the best of anything he’d written so far. Typically he used a lot of creative license when he wrote, writing about things that happened to him long ago, about things that happened to friends of his, about completely made up scenarios, or anything that inspired him really. But he never really wrote about his own life. This was the first time, and it was his first song to really come from the heart. 

After finally perfecting the song, Harry recorded a quick demo on his phone, then sent it off to Jeff, a big-name record producer he’d met a few months back. They’d met during a recording session for some pink-haired indie singer. Though Jeff hadn’t really liked the indie girl and her bananies-and-avacadies voice as he’d joked to Harry, he’d liked Harry’s writing style a lot. He’d slipped Harry his phone number and had told him to send along some of his strongest work. Harry had come close to sending a few things before, but had chickened out at the last minute. Nothing he’d done before was his strongest work, and he knew that. The song about you, he felt good enough to send. 

Harry finally worked up the courage to press the send button during one of his sleepless nights. He hoped that Jeff hadn’t deleted his number, or if he had that he would be willing to listen to a voice message from a random stranger. Since it was nearly 1 am, he was surprised to get a message back almost immediately. Love it Harry. Let’s talk.  Followed by a meeting time and location. 

******* 

A few weeks later, you arrived home (you had been surprised at how quickly you came to think of your new apartment in a new city as “home”, but you came to the conclusion that it was all because Harry was there) to Harry humming a song you didn’t recognize as he cleaned the apartment. He looked up when he saw you, dropping the broom and drawing you into a hug. “Hey!” He swayed you back and forth a few times as he held you. You had forgotten that little tic of his, but the motion reminded you of how much you loved it. It always made you feel safe and comforted, probably because it replicated the motion of a mother rocking a baby. And it was something Harry only did when he was really happy. 

“What happened?” You asked once he let you go. Harry hadn’t seemed sad exactly, but you’d had the feeling that being isolated from his family and under almost constant money and career stress were starting to get to him. You hadn’t seen him happy like this since you were in college together and he aced a difficult Music Theory final. 

“I think we should go out tonight. Somewhere nice-ish.” 

This piqued your interest even more. Even combining your incomes, you still weren’t really on a going-out-regularly-in-LA budget. Something had happened. Something big. “Harry, tell me what’s going on.” 

“I wrote a song a few weeks ago and The Heartbreakers want it.” 

Your jaw dropped at the mention of the group who had shot to fame almost overnight a few years ago after one of their songs went viral on SoundCloud. Unlike some other indie groups that had scored mainstream hits and had faded to irrelevancy after a few weeks, The Heartbreakers had hired a good management team and were able to capitalize on the hit to become one of the biggest groups on the planet. “Harry, that’s amazing!” You threw your arms around him again. “But how? What? I didn’t even think you knew them? And I thought they wrote all their own stuff?” 

Harry pulled back enough to look at you and gave a little laugh at all of your questions. His hands stayed around your waist, your arms around his neck. “That’s what they say. They use ghostwriters basically. I had to sign an NDA and got an advance that’s basically hush money.” You frowned, not really liking the thought that Harry wasn’t going to get any credit for his work. “Hey no, that’s just how it works sometimes,” He added, noticing your facial expression. “The music industry isn’t pretty. I knew that going in and I kind of expected it. Producers and other writers have their own kind of underworld. The important people will know that I wrote it. This will lead to more big stuff for me. I know. I wouldn’t have given the song away if I didn’t.” 

Noticing that you still didn’t look happy, Harry was quick to change the subject. “As for how, I don’t know them. At all. It all went through this producer, Jeff, that I met a few months back. He wanted to hear some of my stuff, but nothing ever seemed good enough until I wrote this song. I sent it to him, he loved it and thought it would work with their sound. He took it to them and they wanted it. I’ve never even met them.” 

“Will you get to?” You said, thinking that you would at least want to shake someone’s hand before handing off a piece of art that you created to them and letting them act like it was theirs. 

Harry nodded. “I have to go in for a writing session and be there while they record in case they want to make any tweaks. Which they probably will. Change a word, get a third and all that.” Your frown returned at the mention of the unfair way that royalties were distributed. Harry noticed. “But this will still be really big for me. It’s the right move. I know.” 

You studied him for a moment, looking for any sign of hesitation. “I trust you.” Realizing that you’d been holding each other for an awkward amount of time, and that it felt surprisingly good to have your best friend holding you, his big hands solid at your waist and your fingers toying with the curls at the back of his neck, you stepped away. “I’d love to hear it. Do you have a recording yet?” Harry looked alarmed. “What? Has the NDA got you scared?” You teased. Harry could be shy about sharing his work, but he’d always been open about it with you. He called you his guinea pig, you were often the first one to hear new songs. 

“I just wrote it a few weeks ago. I got really inspired seeing you again, I guess.” Harry said, suddenly seeming shy. 

“Harry that’s so sweet.” You asked, unable to keep the emotion out of your voice. No one had ever written or created anything for you before, and as far as you knew you hadn’t inspired anything either (aside from some crude messages in the boy’s locker room back in high school that Harry had taken a Sharpie to almost immediately after they popped up). 

“But I can’t play it for you. I don’t own it anymore. I already signed it over.” 

“Harry, we’re alone in our apartment. No one’s gonna know.” 

“I know, I know.” Harry picked up his broom and went back to his sweeping, obviously nervous. “It’s a little unpolished though.” 

“That never stopped you before.” Harry had played you things that were completely unfinished before, sometimes even when he just had a few chords together or two lines of lyrics. 

“I really think the Heartbreakers will do it better than me. I think the first time you hear it, it should be their version.” 

“At least tell me what it’s called.” 

“It doesn’t have a name,” Harry said a little too fast. “Or at least right now. When it actually gets released they’ll find something marketable, I’m sure. Do you want to go to a club tonight, or just dinner?” 

You accepted Harry’s abrupt change of subject and decided not to push it, but you spent the entire evening (both dinner and a club, Harry wanted to splurge since he knew his so-called hush money would be kicking in soon) wondering why Harry didn’t want you to hear the song. 

*********

“So,” Jeff began as the final recording session for the song, which had been renamed “Crave” wrapped up. The Heartbreakers had left for the day, and Harry and Jeff had hung back to do some final mixing. Harry didn’t really need to be there either, but Jeff wanted his approval on the final version of the song and he seemed happy for the company. “You never told me who this song is about.” 

“Who says it's about anyone?” Harry asked, trying not to sound harsh. Despite the fact that they’d been working closely together on Crave, they weren’t good enough friends where they could be quite so honest with each other. 

“Every song is about someone. Especially ones this heartfelt.” Jeff let the song play once through. The Heartbreakers had changed very little lyrically, adding a lyric to the chorus about craving the person the song was addressed to (which was where they’d drawn the title from). They’d changed a bit more when it came to the music itself, switching from the indie playing-in-a-coffeshop vibe that Harry had intended, to a rockier sound. Harry thought it sounded much better that way, it was something that he wouldn’t have tried with such a sweet song, and he knew that he’d made the right decision in signing the song away. As the final songs of the song drifted away, Jeff turned to Harry again. “So I’m guessing it’s a lady friend of yours from back in school and who you once played seven minutes in heaven with,” Jeff began, referencing the first verse of the song where Harry had written about first meeting you when you were kids. “Who you now find yourself in love with because she sings like a lark when she’s happy, leaves bobby pins all over the place, and makes you chocolate milkshakes when you’re sad.” 

Harry felt his cheeks heat up as Jeff named more details from elsewhere in the song, all things that pointed directly to your friendship with him. “My best friend from back in school. She just moved out here and we’ve been living together and...I don’t even really know what it is, if it was the time apart or if it’s different now that we’re older or because we’re living together. But yeah, I love her.” It was the first time Harry had said it out loud and it felt like a weight off his shoulders. 

“Have you told her yet?”

Harry shook his head. ��I’m worried about ruining the friendship.” 

“Do you think she feels the same way?” 

Harry considered it, how you had let him hold you for far too long the night he first told you about selling the song, how you always made spinach for him as a side when you cooked even though you hated it, how much your hands brushed when he took you on tours of his favorite places in LA, if those were all just friendly gestures or if it meant something more. “Maybe? But she’s probably thinking the same thing about ruining the friendship.” Harry knew you well enough to know that you were a little too pragmatic sometimes when it came to relationships. 

“You should tell her.” Jeff regarded Harry with a serious look. “The second she hears the song she’s going to figure it out. The Heartbreaker’s last single was number one on the Billboard chart for six weeks and played on KIIS once an hour every day for a month after its release. You don’t want her finding out that her best friend is in love with her when she hears the song in Trader Joe’s. It’ll mean way more coming directly from you.” 

******* 

“Does this look okay? What do you even wear to a listening party anyway?” You asked, stepping in front of Harry and twirling around, letting him examine your dress. 

Harry gave you a quick once over. “What you’ve got on is fine. You look great.” 

The simple compliment sent a little rush of excitement through you, the saw way you felt when previous boyfriends had complimented you before you set out on a date. With you in your dress and Harry also dressed up, the two of you looked a bit like you were setting out on a proper date, but you stopped yourself from going down that line of thinking. There was no way to know if he felt the same way. You studied Harry instead, drinking in his slicked back hair, black shirt with the little white hearts on it, and black pants. Realizing that you were staring, you changed the subject. 

“You’re sure it’s okay if I come?” A listening party seemed like something so secret, something that only music industry people got to attend, like the parties the cool kids threw in high school. But Harry had seemed excited when he invited you along, even though he’d had to present you with an NDA at the same time and had told you not to bring your phone or it would be confiscated at the door. The listening party was for people from the label and was being held a few weeks before the official release of the single, and preventing leaks was essential, Harry had explained. 

Harry nodded. “Yeah. It’s gonna be real small. Just the band, some people from the label, me, and Jeff. All people who are already aware that they don’t write their own music.” Harry looked like there was something more he wanted to say, but instead he just pulled on his sport coat. “Ready?” 

Harry was quiet for the drive to the private club where the party was being held, letting one of his Spotify playlists play as he navigated LA’s busy streets. He didn’t speak until he found parking at the club. You reached for the door to exit the car, but froze when Harry said, “Wait.” You waited. Harry took a deep breath before speaking. “I just want you to know that the song is about you. I just want you to hear it, knowing that, and tell me what you think after.” 

You wanted to press for more information. That was incredibly vague, and if anything it just left you with more questions. But Harry was nervous enough, you could tell from the way he’d adjusted his hair several times during the drive and the fact that he was avoiding eye contact with you now. Not wanting to stress him out anymore, you decided not to push it. You leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, ignoring how natural it felt. Maybe it was just the dim lighting from the streets lights, but you could have sworn that Harry was blushing. “I’m sure I’ll love it. I mean, writing a song about me is already nicer than anything any of my ex-boyfriend have done.” You realized a few seconds too late that maybe comparing your best friend to your exes wasn’t the best move. “And everything else you’ve written has taken my breath away. I’m sure this won’t be any different.” You added, trying to cover the awkward moment. 

Harry turned to you, looking happier and more confident now. “Let’s go.” He walked around to your side of the car and opened the door for you, even taking your hand to help you out of the car. Because no LA party could really start without time for networking first, you spent the first part of the party following Harry around like a baby duckling as he made his rounds to talk to the band and the industry executives. You’d been a little worried that you would feel like a fish out of water, or worse that Harry would leave you by the bar and make the rounds on his own. Harry had never been the type to social climb, but you were fully aware of the fact that this was his biggest career opportunity yet, so you weren’t sure how he would react. But you were worried for nothing, because Harry kept you by his side the entire night, introduced you to everyone by name, and tried hard to include you in the conversation, even though you were so starstruck most of the night that you ended up feeling tongue tied. 

As someone from the label raised his voice to announce that they would be playing the song soon, Harry pulled you to a table and introduced you to Jeff. 

“Ah, the famous muse,” Jeff shook your hand before giving Harry a knowing look. “Harry’s told you about the song?” 

“Just that it’s about me. I haven’t heard it yet.” 

“You’re in for a treat.” He told you with a smile, shooting Harry another look. Before you had time to further ponder what was going on, a label executive's voice at the front of the room drew your attention as he introduced “Crave”. 

As the song played, you were blown away. Harry had written a beautiful song, and though you’d initially been worried about him giving the song away you had to admit that The Heartbreakers had done it justice. But what surprised you the most was that it was a love song, and every single word of the song pointed to you, to things you had Harry had done together or to your little idiosyncrasies. Harry loved you, and had for a while. 

As the final notes of the song faded away, Harry grabbed your hand and pulled you outside the club, clearly wanting whatever happened next to be just between the two of you. You stood bathed beneath a streetlight, with drunks exiting nearby clubs stumbling past you. “So, what’d you think?” Harry asked, smiling shyly at you. 

“Harry, I loved it. I love you.” You said, throwing your arms around him. Saying it felt so right, so natural, even though it was the first time you’d said those words to Harry. 

Harry slid his arms around you and pulled you closer to him. “I love you.” He said quietly, before he pressed his lips to yours for a kiss that had been a long time coming. 

[love-killed-the-superstar]

heres day 5!! more cassunzel angst! and now... i sleep

CASSUNZEL WEEK DAY 5 - HEARTBREAK

Cass can’t sleep.

It’s not like she isn’t used to sleeping in unfamiliar places. These past three years she’s slept in barn lofts, under bridges, in caves and up trees and even in shitty, overpriced taverns with bedbugs. She’s slept through rain and snow and even a sandstorm, once; so why is it that she’s been unable to sleep since arriving in Corona, as she lies in what could only be described as the world’s comfiest bed?

Well, sharing it with Rapunzel and Eugene could be the reason. And not so much because either of them snore, or toss and turn, or murmur in their sleep; that much she can handle, after the year they spent on the road, with little to no privacy between them all. She’s shared a bed with Rapunzel a few times now and slept soundly, although the first time it happened her heart thudded away rapidly the entire night, being so close in proximity.

Maybe it’s because the sheets are too silky, the mattress too soft? Maybe it’s the quiet of the room, where every rustle of sheets feels like a roar in her ears? She’s so used to the sounds of nature, after all, or the drunken cheer of fellow travellers, or the gentle breathing of Fidella and the scratching of Owl’s talons as he watches over her dutifully. She’s a drifter now, and maybe palace life and the luxuries it brings just… doesn’t suit her anymore. It never did feel right, but now it’s more alien than ever.

Fuck, who is she trying to kid? This isn’t about the bed, or the company she keeps. It’s everything else around her that’s keeping her awake; things she can’t escape from whenever she returns.

As quietly as she can, she rises from the bed and creeps over to the large window leading out to Rapunzel’s balcony. She slips through easily enough, though not without a loud creak that causes Eugene to stir; he blinks blearily, yawns, and rolls over, his back to the window. Thankfully.

The change in temperature is stark, and she allows the cold night air to wash over her with a sigh of relief. Out of that room, back into nature again, she’s finally able to just breathe. Corona is mostly dark; a few stray lamps send the courtyard awash with a dim russet glow, but otherwise she is pleasantly plunged into darkness. Across the water, there are flickering lights from Old Corona. The sight, while a little comforting in its familiarity, brings no real catharsis to her. Instead, it just makes her think.

She shouldn’t have come back.

It’s her own fault, of course, for not writing ahead of time to let them know of her imminent return. It’s so stupid, to think that Rapunzel and Eugene will always be able to drop everything when she swings by, and she’s taken it for granted. Usually when she comes back Rapunzel will take the whole day off to catch up, hear out her latest stories, fill her head up with all that has been going on in Corona without her. They’ll spend a few days riding the horses out, swimming in the lagoon if the weather permits it, having private candlelit dinners and stargazing each night. Now that she’s more involved in royal duties, Cass visiting gives her an excuse to take a few days off and recover from the stresses of everyday life too.

This visit has been different. For a start, Cass somehow forgot that coming back this time of year meant her visit would coincide with the goodwill festival. Idiot. Rapunzel has been rushing around constantly since her arrival yesterday, just trying to keep everything ticking along smoothly in the lead up to the event. Cassandra offered to help pretty much the moment she’d left Fidella in the palace stables, but Rapunzel assured her everything was handled, leaving her to catch some down time on her own.

They’ve only managed to catch up twice since then, each day over dinner, and one of those was accompanied by the king and queen. She certainly isn’t… opposed to dining with them, as awkward as the conversation may be given they have very little common ground to talk about. But when that eats into precious little time she has to spend with the woman she loves, it pisses her off.

Eugene is busy too. Cassandra never thought she’d see the day where she grew frustrated by his improved work ethic, but he’s been so busy organising security, as well as some ridiculous new flag-wielding march for the soldiers that he’s introduced to the festivities in the last year or so, there’s been no room to tag along after him either. She watched today, for an hour or two, as they fruitlessly waved those dumb fucking flags around, but where’s the fun if she doesn’t even get to poke fun at them with Eugene’s rapport? Even Lance has been busy, preparing to run some sort of food stall with the help of Kiera and Catalina. In the end she spent the day with her father, catching up on life and riding out to a local fishing spot to drink ale and pass the time together. It’s by no means a disaster of a day, but… damn, it felt empty.

She feels empty.

It’s not like Cass didn’t notice the stares as she moved from place to place, or the whispers, just quiet enough that it’s left to her own imagination to work out the things that the people of Corona still whisper about her. Didn’t Rapunzel tell her once that things would get better over time, if she just left room for everyone to forgive and forget? And if active atonement is the way forward, how can she offer that if there’s no breathing room in Rapunzel’s rigid festival agenda for her?

Her eyes sting, and she reaches to clutch a fistful of her night shirt. The lights across the water begin to blur together, her breath comes shorter, and her throat… it aches, a cry just on the tip of her tongue.

For all that she’s convinced herself that she doesn’t need Corona anymore, that it only serves as an anchor she’s pulled back to from time to time, and solely for the purpose of visiting Rapunzel… maybe it’s Corona that’s run out of use for her. It’s… not the kindest thought she’s had today.

There’s a loud creak as the window behind her opens out. Cass can’t bring herself to turn around, even as she hears a voice call her name gently. If she tries to respond, she knows her voice will be thick with grief, so she doesn’t make a sound.

“It’s pretty cold out here,” Rapunzel continues quietly. There’s a click as the window shuts, and Rapunzel pads over to join her at the edge of the balcony. “Have you been out here long?”

Cass shakes her head and takes a few deep breaths, trying to steady her voice as best she can. “Only for a few minutes.”

“Liar. Your hands are freezing.” Rapunzel reaches for one, holding it to her mouth and breathing to warm it up. The sudden rush of heat sends a violent tremble through Cassandra’s body and she pulls her hand away quickly, gripping the flat surface of the rail as her vision swims. “Hey, Cass. Talk to me? I… I know things have been busy around here and we haven’t really spoken much. But I can lend an ear now.”

“Raps, no. You’re exhausted from organising the festival, you – y-you should-”

Damn it, her words are starting to crack. She squeezes her eyes shut and takes another deep breath. The ache in her throat is back again; it’s a dam holding back her cries, and it’s frustrating as fuck. Would it kill her not to agonise over things that don’t matter? It’s like every time she comes back her brain is scrambling to find some new reason to sabotage her visit, a new thing to fixate on that eventually leads back to this tired thought pattern – that she’s a horrible person and everyone has finally given up waiting for her to get better.

Cassandra reaches to touch the base of her throat, where it hurts the most, and whispers, “You should go back to bed.”

She’s met with silence for a few moments, as Rapunzel carefully chooses her next words.

“You know, Cass, it's almost been a year already.”

“What? A year since what?”

Rapunzel leans forward, her face swimming into view, before saying gently, “Since the last time you cried with me.”

A hot blush bleeds through to her cheeks, and Cass stares hard at the floor. “I'm – I don't...”

“You don't have to justify or explain it. But I'm glad you let me near you when you're feeling like this, Cass. Instead of keeping it to yourself, I mean.”

“Raps...” Cassandra lowers her head. The tears keep coming, and she tries in vain just to plug them completely. She takes a few steps away from the edge, staring hard at the floor, and clutches at her throat a little harder. The pinching of her flesh is a welcome distraction from the pain inside. “I just – I just wonder if me coming back here was a big mistake? Maybe I should have stayed away.”

“What?” In a flash Rapunzel is on her knees before her, looking up at her with big, confused eyes. “Why? Why would you think that?”

“I... I messed up so bad, Raps. I know it's in the past, but people still talk about it. People still see me as the girl who's one meltdown away from destroying the kingdom. And they're right to, aren't they? They know the only person that can rein me in is you and – and you have more responsibilities these days, so of course you can't just drop everything for me, I would never ask you to do that. But Rapunzel, it's so much harder than I thought it would be just to exist in Corona by myself.”

The crying is starting to ebb back into her voice again and she squeezes her eyes shut tight so she won't have to see the way Rapunzel's own face crumples, as it always does when Cass finally bears the full brunt of her ugly emotions out in the open.

“Oh, Cassandra...” The softness, the care Rapunzel handles her with is beyond what Cass deserves after all this time. The road was supposed to have hardened her, but Corona unravels that process so easily it just makes her want to scream. Still, when she feels Rapunzel stand upright, scooping Cass into a hug that is steady and grounding, she gives into the grief and finally lets herself cry on Rapunzel's shoulder again, just like every other time she comes home.

…

Soon enough the crying has come and gone, as quickly as a flash flood, leaving the two of them sore-eyed and fatigued. At some point they gravitated back to the edge of the balcony, hoisting themselves to sit with their feet dangling. The night goes on, unwavering, and they talk things out as they always do when things get too heavy for them to ignore.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Raps,” Cass confesses, staring up at the moon. “I mean, it’s been years. I enjoy life on the road, but… I still don’t understand destiny, or what it feels like or how to find it. Everything I ever knew about it turned out to be wrong, and now – well. I’m back here with nothing to show.”

“Well, that’s not quite true, is it?” Rapunzel reaches over to trace a finger over a long cut that extends from the base of her wrist til midway up her arm. “You have some new scars. Each with their own terrifying story, I’m sure.”

“I slipped and cut it on a rock while I was climbing down by a waterfall,” Cass deadpans. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Raps. There’s no big picture here. No overarching point to anything I’m doing, it’s all just… stupid, small, unrelated incidents. That’s my life.”

Rapunzel huffs, offended on her behalf. “Well, I think it’s wrong to consider yourself a failure just because there’s no linear path to your life right now! Maybe there never will be, I don’t know, but thinking this way only seems to be hurting you. Not all destinies are clear-cut.”

“I just… I want you to be able to look at me and be proud of the things I’ve done,” Cassandra murmurs, shivering in the cold night air. She hugs herself for warmth, and Rapunzel scoots in a little closer and drapes an arm around her to share that precious bit of body heat. “And right now, I just feel a bit aimless and like my life is going nowhere and now I don’t feel needed here, either.”

“Cass, if you really want me to keep you busy for the next few days, I can find some odd jobs for you,” Rapunzel says, shaking her head in exasperation. “But please, don’t ever think that I don’t need you. Do you think I would worry over you like this if I didn’t?”

“Maybe not.” Cass sighs heavily and leans into Rapunzel. “...Can I be really insecure for a moment?”

Rapunzel nods.

“I know I went out into the world with so much confidence, but it’s going on three years now and lately I just – I mean. Damn it. D’you think… maybe, do you think that you can still be proud of me, even though I keep losing my direction?”

“Oh, Cass.” Rapunzel leans over and presses a kiss to Cassandra’s hair, pulling her tight against her for warmth. They rock a little in the awkward embrace. “I will always, always be proud of you, no matter what you do, just by being here and being yourself. All right? But – but I’m not the one you should be asking this question to, you know. You’re more incredible than I can even put into words, but do you recognise that in yourself?”

“I do,” Cassandra promises, shutting her eyes and allowing herself to slacken in Rapunzel’s arms. “Of course I do. I just… need an off day every once in a while where I can pawn my self-worth onto you.”

Rapunzel laughs softly. “Good. Then, listen to me. For as long as the world keeps turning, I will never give up on you. I’ll never stop believing in you, or loving you. And if you want my expert advice, being as well-versed in destiny as I am, it seems to sneak up on you when you aren’t looking for it. Maybe let it sweep you up, instead of getting so stuck in your own head.”

“You make an excellent point. Or maybe I’m just getting tired, it’s hard to tell.” Cass pulls back a little and kisses Rapunzel slowly, her fingers getting a little tangled in her hair as she deepens the kiss. A few minutes pass where nothing needs saying at all; but an icy wind blows through, breaking them apart as they both shudder from the cold.

“Think maybe it’s time to go back inside?” Rapunzel asks, red-faced and starry-eyed. Cass nods breathlessly, scooping Rapunzel in her arms and setting her safely down on the other side of the balcony.

“I do. Hey, uh… Raps?”

Rapunzel, hand outstretched to pull Cass to her feet, tilts her head. “Yeah?”

“...I love you.”

A warm smile melting onto her face, Rapunzel tugs her back towards the window. “I love you too. Enough that I’ll let you be the little spoon tonight.”

“Oh, score. Hope this doesn’t make Fitzherbert too jealous.”

“He can have me any other time of year,” Rapunzel says cheerfully, leaning in to peck Cass lightly on the lips before ushering her through the window. “Now, get comfy.”

Cass drags her tired bones to the bed, sinking into the mattress like a stone through still water as Rapunzel latches the windows shut. Her eyes grow heavy, and as cold, comforting arms wrap securely around her, she drops out like a light.

[thejosh1980]

(Seems like) Years since yesterday...

Today, 1 year ago, is a special day...

One year ago today was the last time I bought myself a new guitar... I always wanted a Guild, and as I had been touring a lot with The Cashbags I figured I could now afford it. It's blonde, with P90s and as close as I could get to one of my idols, Dave G from The Paladins.

I bought it second hand via “Ebay Kleinanzeigen”, right before a show with The Cashbags. The guy came to the venue, before sound check and I tried it out. I was in love... I bought it there and then...

I played it that night at The Cashbags show too. This was the only show I played my own guitar during all my years touring with the band. Usually I would use the band gear, as it best suited the look the band wanted (and it was easy for me, I didn't have to carry my guitar and amp to and from shows)...

It's also the only show I have so far played with this guitar...

Why?

Well that's cause of that damn pandemic.

You see, that show in Langenselbold was to become the last one The Cashbags would play with me...

I knew I was leaving the band at the end of the tour, which was at the end of April, but COVID had a different plan. It's kinda hard to explain how it felt driving to the show, a good 6 hours, with 1 or 2 date cancellations happening along the way... However, by the the next morning hotel breakfast, the rest of the tour was cancelled.

We lost 6 solid weeks of shows...

But how naive I was. I thought we'd be back at it pretty soon; dates rescheduled, last minute shows would be booked... you know the deal. But in the end, I didn't share the stage with the band again, I didn't get to say goodbye to half the band members before leaving Germany either.

Alex and I had only been married 10 days when restrictions started to begin in Germany. The full lockdown was a week or two later, wasn't it? I don't know, it's all a bit of a blur.

I was lucky, at the time, I had my studio which was all mine, so I could get out of the apartment, walk the dog and play guitar, loud... The new guitar got some action, behind closed doors of course.

You know the story, we started selling up, packing up and, eventually, moved down under...

It feels surreal to think how, at the time, we had no idea how this was going to affect us. It's quite clear the pandemic has brought out the best (and worst) in people.

I think for me, during my time in Dresden's restrictions, everything felt, well, OK. It didn't feel too bad, but I had a lot to focus on. The “goodbyes” to everyone was the hardest thing. I don't remember being under the weather, depressed or sick. I may have been, but whatever negative thoughts and feelings there were, they weren't strong during that time.

I was lucky to be one of the earlier guests on the Blue Note live stream in March, which encouraged me to do my own live streams in April and May. As unprepared as I was to learn so many new songs, it was a good focus, until it got too much.

In July we had “The Josh Fest” which was too much for my emotions. Dresden, I feel the love. I'm so thankful (and lucky) so many friends could come out for one last party. Reuniting old bands, new bands and old friends on stage, it'll go down as one of the best shows in my life. One that ended with me in tears...

When we had the first cancelled flight and rescheduled flights in mid July, I don't remember feeling too bad about it all either. I didn't like it, but our delay was only a week or two. And we had a roof over our head and Alex's family there to support us.

But once the 3rd or 4th rescheduled flight happened it started to get scary and worrying. I remember some really bad days in Meine. I had lost all hope of getting home. We were in limbo, and had little control over the situation. Our health insurances had expired, we were no longer registered in Germany and were worried constantly if the next flight would let us on. So many last minute cancellations, wears one down. I spent quite a bit of my time frustrated, depressed and helpless during those 2 months.

Once we took control, used some savings and bought ourselves new flights, we made it to Adelaide. I definitely felt better by taking action. However, another set of challenges arise, quarantine isn't fun. We were lucky with our hotel, room and food, but it's still tough... Very tough... And I sympathize with everyone who's had to go through it, especially those who are doing it under hardship.

In late September we made it mum's. We finally made it... I'd been waiting for this moment for a year (longer than originally planned of course). I made the decision to move in September/October 2019. I had achieved a lot in Europe, so many amazing adventures (good and challening) that I'll have enough memories to last a life time (if I can remember them!).

I wanted to come back and take care of my family.

When we arrived at mum's, it hit me... I was back! I didn't feel the excitement I thought I would. I felt bad for Mum. Like, shouldn't I have been crying? Shouldn't I have been screaming! “I'm baaaaaaack!!!” In the end I think it was just relief... We'd arrived almost 3 months later than expected. We needed to settle in.

I think settling in took a while. Is it still happening? Even the smell of the fresh salt air knocks you out! Lots of new things to get used to. Integration had begun. Usually I returned home for a holiday, now it was a return for good. This is a full time permanent position.

I did enjoy October through to January. Alex wasn't working, we had time to do stuff, relax... Enjoy the local scene. I don't surf every day, but definitely as often as conditions allow. I did some work, which I previously blogged about. Alex started working in December, and she loves her job... Things were pretty good...

I was, I still am, trying to get over saying goodbye to my puppy, my friends and wondering why I had little motivation to pick up the guitar...

In mid January Mijo, my little kitten, came into my life. Thanks to my wonderful wife, she knew full well I wouldn't decide to get a pet on my own, and on the responsibility to bring some fur into our lives. Damn I'm lucky.

In fact, Alex's intuition is amazing... She always seems to know know when to ask questions, when to listen, when to take action and when to bring coffee. Bless her cotton socks...

However come February I'd hit the wall. I don't know what it is, what it was.... But it's been a little while coming, and hasn't gone away. It did leave me in bed for 3 days, and don't ask me the reason, cause I can't tell you.

I've had a lot of motivation issues... I just don't feel like getting up... I have to, because I gotta drive mum to work and pick her up. Once back home, usually I drink coffee and force myself to do something, anything... I've used the excuse of “training Mijo” that I visit friends with him, but really my heart hasn't been in it. I just know I'd feel guilty if I didn't do anything...

I've had a lot of paperwork to fill out since getting home. Bank accounts and all that kind of stuff... Alex's visa (which is still on going for another 18 months or so). Also local government bureaucratic stuff I have to deal with. Taxes! I'm planning to start studying in April, but to enroll the process comes with a lot of documentation, questions and answers...

So... Lately...

I have distanced myself from everyone lately. Except for a few moments, I haven't picked up the guitar in almost 12 months. I barely do anything. Writing this blog today, has taken a lot of energy and focus to start. If it wasn't for the “anniversary” today, I wouldn't have even begun to type.

To help you understand the hole I was (and still am) in... I have been blessed with a roof over my head, food every day, a loving wife, a beautiful kitten, a loving mum (and family and friends), the beach, the sounds of birds waking me up and (mostly) great weather... But I'm still unhappy...

How could that be? Why is that?

I know I wrote a few times before, that writing has helped me process my feelings. So I figured I'd better try it. Practice what I preach!... But don't ask me how I feel, I just don't know... and it can change in a heart beat.

I got out of bed today, and I did some office work... First time in over a week... Stuff I've been putting off... I'll need to make a few calls this afternoon too... But in between I think I'll rest... Relax...

Usually, I push myself too much... I have pushed myself to the edge (again)... I've been feeling desperate, unmotivated, hopeless, helpless and, well, just plain shit... I know I gotta get out of it, but these days I'm trying a new approach: pull back, relax, rethink, rest and figure out the right balance... So far I am somewhere in the middle....

At least I think I feel better than when I was constantly powering through and not acknowledging my feelings.

I'm my worst critic, and I feel guilty if I don't “do” every day... I gotta “do” this or that... But sometimes you gotta take care of yourself... That is also a “do”... isn't it? Self care. Self love. Listening to your body.

So it's been one of the roughest years in a long time for us... hasn't it??

Damn...

Please don't do what I do and ignore the stress and pressure... What I mean is, there's been so many new things for all of us, so many new challenges, we forget how far we've come. We forget we are still here.

We have achieved so much, even if it's the fact we got out of bed today!!!

We need to be kind to each other, but more importantly to ourselves. I wouldn't treat my pet, my friends or my family as badly as I do myself, so why am I doing that?? It's gotta stop.

I gotta listen to myself when I don't feel up to it, and forgive myself for putting myself first... Rest... Reflection... Relaxing... Recuperation... Maybe then I can begin the next chore... Like filling out this damn paperwork just to get into college...

https://youtu.be/-rkq9ffBpWY - The Paladins - Years Since Yesterday

Thanks for reading,

Josh

[genuflectx]

Just wanna rant about my job a bit, will probably delete this later. But I think I may quit my job within the next month or so u_u’

Originally when I joined this job last year it was under originations- I helped people apply and get approved for loans, or offered general tech support when they needed help with the process online. I felt like I was helping these nice old people, they were rarely mean (save for the occasional grouchy old man after he gets rejected), and the work load was decent. Not too heavy, not too boring. 

Then the pandemic hit. My entire team, which had been hired only a few months before, were rushed in for “accelerated training” on the credit card support department. I believe it was just like 4 weeks of training for a tooootally different workflow. We worked in the servicing department for what, maybe a month? Then they furloughed a ton of people and managers and moved us AGAIN, this time to collections. So calling to collect debts on our credit card product. When I joined this company it was under the understanding I did NOT want to do collections because it makes me sad and feel shitty. But they promised us we would be transferred back to originations after a bit, so whatever.

Slowly things have gone downhill since. Just tiny things adding up. They implemented a internet speed minimum requirement, which is understandable working from home, but we lost another good chunk of people who got fired for that, some who I’d made friends with. Hell, I got THREATENED with firing due to this, forcing us to run an Ethernet cable through 2 stories of our house. And I was PISSED because I was the only one on the team making a 100% average on QA scores. Then a few people quit, leaving only 3 people from my original originations team. They hired a new manager to oversee work force management (WFM) and quality assurance (QA) around this point and I’m CONVINCED it got worse because of her changes...

They changed our outbound dialing system to a cheaper one, promising all these improvements, and who woulda guessed... the quality of work life barely improved with this piece of crap tech but hey, it cut costs. Next they dismantled the debt management company department (DMC) and trained us in it so we’re technically trained for and work in two departments. On top of the promise that in the far future that they will cross-train us with the loan department too, a totally different product. We also have to do the emails for our department as well.

Then things got bad. Non stop calls for a months. Likely related to the unfortunate weather disasters in our outsourced locations. The outbound dialer, which is an autodialer that WFM loads up with late people to auto-call, starting filling up with impossible amounts of people to call for our agent count. We started going from 5000 to call every few hours to 10,000. And it doesn’t matter if we don’t clear the queue, they will load more in at certain times of the day. So we’d get 10,000 at 1pm, we’d get it down to 3,000 by 5pm, and they’d just load it back up to 10,000 again. 

Then they added on the mandatory overtime. Everyone in our department either has to do a half shift extra on either saturday or sunday- with mine being on saturday. Another person quit (down to 2 from my original team). We’re understaffed as hell and they tell us that they’re FINALLY training a new class. And know what? They ONLY enacted the OT and got a new class because their service levels were down. Service levels are a mandatory legal level of how many agents per how many customers we have, they get in legal trouble when it drops too far for too long. They didn’t give a shit about our stress until their damn legal agreement dropped and then forced the OT on us. Wow. We feel so appreciated. 

And THEN the OT was supposed to go until Feb 14th- today. THEY EXTENDED IT ANOTHER WEEK. 

And and and a few days after they told us it was extended these dudes LAY OFF 3 managers, including our team’s manager, who I REALLY liked, and stuck us into the team of a manager who is notorious for giving out incorrect policy info! Why! >:( 

Some other small things they’ve done that have added up slowly: They sent me a “nice” alluminum mug for my high QA score. Stuck it in the washer once and the pretty gold lettering on the front melted. It also leaks. They do these “thank you” videos some time where the upper management (never faces you recognize save for 2 or 3). BUT they made us watch this 10 minute long “thank you” Christmas video BETWEEN CALLS instead of scheduling time for us to do it like usual. Due to the short staffing, they changed how our weekly meetings with our manager/team go. Instead of having the whole team go into a meeting with her twice per week, they made her split this into 3 smaller meetings once per week, so that 2 or 3 team members meet with her at a time (more people on the floor to take calls). It spread her thin- before they laid her off of course. After they enacted the OT a week or so into it one of the upper management people sent us all an email telling us we basically weren’t doing good enough because our collections numbers weren’t high enough.. KNOWING we’re under staffed, she still emailed that. Come on.

So ya know what? My fiance and friends have encouraged me to just move on. This company isn’t what it was when I started a year ago, and idk if it’s legit just due to covid or if this WFM/QA overseer that they hired near the end of 2020 is fully to blame. I hate hearing customers tell me day in day out about their family dying, about being homeless/evicted. I hate old ladies screaming at me because they can’t comprehend that WE ARE IN A PANDEMIC and the MAIL WILL BE LATE, so their damn paper checks need to be mailed out at least 2-3 weeks in advanced- OR THEY COULD JUST CALL AND PAY LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE. Tired of people insulting me and calling me names because THEY’RE late and THEY missed a payment and they can’t accept responsibility- because they think screaming at someone making a few bucks over min wage will do anyone any good or make their shitty credit score any better.

All this mandatory OT and my nice manager being fired has put a lot of stress on me, if the other crap wasn’t enough. We’re really financially stable in this household even if I did quit, even if I’d feel guilty af. And it could be months before I found another job as safe and well-paying as this one, but at least my mental health would recover.

So I have about a day of sick time and 80 hours of PTO. My plan is to hopefully schedule out all 80 hours, or at least 85% of my PTO if I can, then when I come back to put in a 1 week notice. By then the new agents will be in full swing. I can get the money from the PTO I earned at this shit collections job and then try and move on to bigger and better things. And in the mean time while looking, I can work on art/writing and I can also possibly get a new car with all the money we’ve saved up. My mama and granny might end up disapproving and judge me but 2020 was such a shit year and I’m tired of this. I feel like this job is taking advantage of us and legit just doesn’t give a crap about their employees.

Okay! Well that’s outta my system! Bleck

[unpopular-bishop]

protective team and injury

Win is very tired. He’s been very tired for about four days now, which is how many nights its been since he and Team got into that stupid argument. They’ve since made up, but Team hasn’t been coming to his room and Win knows that it takes time, that Team got spooked and is just working the nerve up to start coming to him again. He knows that. He knows that.

Still, Win is very tired. He can’t sleep now, knowing that Team is probably sleeping as badly as he is, if not worse, and is just - staying in his room, probably staring at the ceiling, which is his floor, so it’s almost like Team is staring up at him, just daring him to rush him in this. Win won’t rush him; Win’s working on his part of this relationship the same as Team is and he’s trying not to be pushy or demand more than Team is able to give. That means that he needs to give Team space and time. He can’t just demand Team come back and be comfortable in bed with him. It wasn’t a knockdown, drag-out fight but it was definitely their most serious argument and it hadn’t lasted more than a night, but it was enough to shake them both, just a little. Team will come back to bed soon; he’s already sitting next to Win at lunch again. Yesterday, they held hands under the table. At the beginning of practice today, Team kissed him outside the locker room while the rest of the team was getting changed. Win just has to be patient and in the next few nights, he’s sure his boy will be back in bed and they can both get a good night’s sleep without a worry.

But that’s in a few nights. Right now, Win is very tired.

Very tired and not willing to put up much of a fight when he gets cornered after practice by four nongs who are supposed to be cleaning up the pool and locker room this week.

“Please, Phi?” Book drops dramatically to his knees while Key and Mew clasp their hands together and shake them wildly, “We’re so behind on class and there’s a project due tomorrow!”

“Why didn’t you finish your project earlier?” Win can’t help but ask, smile tugging at his lips despite the drag of exhaustion behind his eyelids. He’d wanted to go home and take a nap, maybe hold Team’s hand and conveniently forget to let go until they were already in front of Win’s door and it would only make sense for Team to come in with him and maybe nap too.

“We didn’t realize we’d need to spend so much time in the library,” Dew pokes at the squeegee broom he’s leaning against, looking put out and stressed, “I’m sorry, Phi. It’s really rude of us to ask so suddenly. You probably have other stuff you need to do that isn’t covering for your idiot nongs.”

“You aren’t idiots.” Win pats Dew’s shoulder firmly, trying to come off as a reassuring vice president and not an exhausted senior. He regrets not ducking out as soon as practice ended like Dean had. Where was Pruk when Win needed him? Probably off with Manaow and Del, the traitor. Win glances around and doesn’t see Team, which does not make his heart sink just a little, not even a bit.

“Well…” he starts to say slowly, reluctantly, “It wouldn’t do for you guys to get a bad grade, especially so close to meet season. We need everyone on top of their grades and their game. This can’t happen again, okay?”

“Yes, Phi.” All four of them chorus at once and it makes Win laugh despite the little jabs of annoyance in his stomach.

“I guess I can do -” he gives in, already reaching for the squeegee broom - and then there’s a loud crash from inside the locker room and a familiar squawk of pain and surprise.

Win doesn’t actually remember moving or even recognizing the voice that had just yelped like an angry bird. It’s more that...one moment he’s standing by the poolside, talking to his nongs, and the next he is inside the locker room and taking in the site of Team clutching his leg close while he sits on the locker room floor in a pile of cleaning supplies.

“Team!” He kneels at Team’s side, hands hovering awkwardly over Team’s skin and then busying themselves with shoving aside the buckets and mop handle still laying on top of Team, “Are you okay? What happened!?”

Team doesn’t answer for a few seconds, just curled over his leg with his head bowed too low for Win to see his face, but when he finally looks up, it feels like Win’s brain has shortcircuited.

Team has tears in his eyes.

“I just tripped.” Team sniffles, slowly rubbing circles into his knee. He’s wearing his street clothes already, sweats and one of Win’s shirts, though he’d never admit that he picked it up from Win’s floor one day and just refused to give it back. His back is damp from the floor, still wet from after practice, and Win feels it when he carefully rubs a comforting hand along Team’s spine.

“What happened to your leg? Did you sprain your ankle? Pull a muscle?”

“I dunno,” Team wipes his face quickly as more footsteps echo from the hall. Win had forgotten his nongs were still there. “It just - hurts. I think I hit it when I fell down.”

“We need to take you to health services.”

“I think so too.”

“I’m taking you to health services. You could have really hurt yourself.” Win narrows his eyes at Team, and then has to stop and process because he was fully expecting Team to argue with him, not agree.

“P’Team?” Key says from the doorway, sounding worried, “What happened? Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” Team says at the same time that Win says, “Team fell. I’m taking him to health services.”

“Hia,” Team starts to complain but Win doesn’t give him the chance, just stands up and pulls him up, too.

“You guys can just clean up around the pool and then make sure the floor in here is dry today,” Win says to the four other team members in between forcibly pushing at Team until he acquiescence to letting Win piggyback him. “And make sure these supplies are put away. Come back tomorrow after class but before practice and finish cleaning up.”

“Yes, phi.” Book says and Win would take a few seconds to apologize for leaving them after just promising to clean up but Team needs him now and is a heavy, solid weight on his back. It’s the closest they’ve been in four days and it is already driving Win crazy.

Team doesn’t struggle too much, just slings both of their bags over his shoulders so Win has more free movement with his arms and Win is out of the locker room and then the gym and then the main street in a matter of minutes.

It isn’t until they’re well away from the pool and the club that Team finally taps at Win’s shoulder and huffs into his ear, breath warm and gentle where he’s so close.

“You can put me down now.”

“I don’t think I will.” Win decides as he continues down the sidewalk. It’s late enough in the day that most people are either already left campus or found their camping spots for the next few hours.

“Hia, I’m really okay.”

“I’ll put you down when there’s a doctor to look at your leg.”

Win feels Team press his face to the skin of his shoulder exposed by his tank, more warm breath and warmer lips as Team brushes against him. “Hia, I didn’t hurt my leg. I don’t need a doctor. Can we just go home?”

Win stops, processing that with a brain that doesn’t really want to process anything right now. “You didn’t hurt your leg? Then what happened back there?”

“Can you put me down first?”

“No.”

“Hia!”

Win tightens his arms around Team’s legs, bracing for a struggle, but Team just sighs explosively and shifts his weight to force Win into turning toward the parking lot where his bike is parked. Win staggers but gets his feet under him again and reluctantly turns away from health services in exchange for parking.

“Happy? Now explain.”

Team doesn’t explain. Win has long given into the fact that Team will never speak when he doesn’t want to, that Team’s preferred method of torture is the silent treatment and that Team’s go-to response when he’s unsure is the same thing. It can make figuring out if Team is upset with him or just processing a little harder than Win is used to working to make sense of people, but Team has always been worth the extra work.

He’s confused and now he’s curious, but he lets Team have his time. He’s been so stressed the last few days, so tired, and guilty for his part in the argument even after apologizing. He’s missed Team. Now he has Team, a warm weight on his back with his arms draped over Win’s shoulders and his thighs strong and firm under Win’s hands. When Team’s forehead thunks against the back of his neck, Win has to breathe in slowly and tilt his head back so he’s resting it on Team’s. Just for a few seconds. Just for a few seconds.

They’re both quiet. The campus is nearly empty, the weather is nice, the air smells fresh. Win has a beautiful boy in his arms and is heading home with him. He feels relaxed for the first time in days, even with the confusion.

They still have a few minutes before they reach the parking lot when Team finally speaks up. When he does, it’s muffled against Win’s skin.

“You’re too nice, hia. People take advantage of you.”

Win smiles, looking straight ahead even though all he wants to do is figure out how to keep holding Team like this while also staring at him.

“I’m not too nice.”

“You are.” Team asserts, “You were gonna stay and clean up everything on your own, weren’t you? Even though it was their turn and you’re supposed to have a partner, anyway.”

“It’s my job as a responsible phi -”

“Too nice.” Team interrupts and tugs at his hair to make a point, “You’re getting taken advantage of. Why do you think they asked you and not anyone else, huh?”

Win doesn’t have an answer for that.

“So what happened with your leg?” he decides to change the subject but Team just sighs again, like Win’s being excessively thick about things.

“I really did fall.” Team admits, “But I didn’t actually get hurt. I just wanted you to take me home.”

“You could have just asked!” Win can’t help but ask, “I would have!”

“You would have felt bad for Mew and the others.” Team shrugs, “It was a risk I couldn’t take, hia.”

Win nearly drops him he’s laughing soo hard. He finally has to relinquish his hold so he can bend over, hands on his knees. It shouldn’t be this funny, but the delivery of the line was so serious and straightforward like Team really meant it, despite the ridiculousness of it. He’s so stupidly fond of this kid.

Team stands with his arms crossed, not quite pouting but looking close to it, brows crumpled above his eyes in annoyance. “Stop laughing, hia, I’m serious.”

That just sends Win off again, but he manages to chortle standing up this time and doesn’t hesitate to grab Team’s hand and squeeze it as he starts to walk.

“Thank you for saving me, then, Team.” he says and hopes Team can hear the sincerity. It’s really, really funny, but he can see that Team just faked an injury to get him out of cleaning the locker room for what it is, and he appreciates it. In ten years, he wants to tell the story to their kids.

Team just huffs, but he holds Win’s hand back. In fact, he tangles their fingers together and steps closer.

In the end, Win doesn’t even need to pretend to forget to let go of his hand. Team follows him to his room without complaint and they take a nap.

[timeclonemike]

Write Who You Know

Inclement weather forced me offline earlier today, and while that made it impossible to write (among other things) it did allow for some reflection on my many, many writing projects. Specifically, why some of them are proceeding while others are stuck fast. The result was enlightening, though perhaps not encouraging:

The stories that are making no progress are all stories where I don’t actually understand the characters I’m trying to write, in any way. Because my writing style is so character driven, this is a GINORMOUS PROBLEM.

Birthright was intended to be a deconstruction / reconstruction of Harry Potter. It takes the idea of a secret society / civilization of magical people living isolated from industrialized non-magical humanity and shows how that would actually work, and how it would fall apart. I had high hopes for it, but I just could not get into the headspace of the protagonist that I had created for the setting; he’s gay, he’s adopted, his parents are loving and supportive... the only thing he and I have in common are a love of books, and that’s not enough for me to work with.

Mirror, Mirror was already collapsing under its lack of effective characterization, so much that I wanted to totally revamp it into a reverse isekai with a fantasy adventurer transported to our world to fight its monsters (cops and capitalism). The original character was a college drop out working at Dollar General thrust into the adventure of a lifetime; all outside my frame of reference. Flipping the script leaves me with a fantasy character in our modern world, and while a sorcerer / rogue multiclass burning cops alive is cathartic to write, there’s no narrative meat to sink my teeth into, so it didn’t go anywhere either.

The Bad Guys is the same problem multiplied by five. Each of the newly minted supervillains comes from a walk of life I only have a limited understanding of; Dr. Axiom and Hazmat are Physics / Engineering Majors (I majored in Mass Communications), Digital Chameleon is an actor and social engineer (I can’t even get Dollar General to hire me let alone talk my way inside a huge company to steal important documents), Gentleman Caller is a proper gentleman concerned with dress and decorum and honor (nobody could accuse me of that with a straight face) and Memento Morrie is from the Big Apple (I’m from the middle of nowhere, for better or worse) so taken all together I put together a team of characters I have NO IDEA HOW TO PORTRAY.

Consequently, these three projects are being put on indefinite hiatus, until such time as I can re-engineer the characters to something easier for me to work with. There’s a few ideas that come to mind but for now, I think it’s better that I focus my attention and effort on the stories that aren’t fighting me:

Like Clockwork is basically, after a few plot rewrites and adjustments, a novelization of an RPG campaign in a bespoke fantasy steampunk setting. The characters draw heavily from fantasy conventions, but the motivations and key personality traits of each member of the party are essentially mine: Alice’s love of steam powered technology, Dr. Spatchcock’s disgust at the medical establishment’s treatment of mental illness, Sylvia’s rebellion against her family’s restrictions, and Edgar’s desire to connect with the memory of his late grandfather. Even the antagonist’s motivation, outrage at being betrayed by people he thought he could trust, is mine. The only problems are those of narrative clarity and pacing, which will be solved in the fullness of time.

The Last Machine is a post apocalyptic story, and that already gives me considerable leeway in depicting the apocalypse; all post-apocalyptic fiction is a commentary on existing society at the time it was written anyway. More importantly, the protagonist is dealing with the same “who am I and why am I here and what the hell am I doing” existential fuckery that hounds my every waking hour, so that’s a solid foundation right there. The protagonist’s friends were already loosely based on some impulse or emotion I found relatable; kind of wish I’d been able to do that with The Bad Guys, honestly.

The Gamble is also a post apocalyptic story, one that allows me to explore a different flavor of the apocalypse. The two main characters, Eric and Lyla, are written based on my floundering for purpose after graduating from college and not being able to find a regular job, and my sense of I-can’t-believe-I-have-to-babysit-this-grown-ass-man that comes from working for my dad on the farm, respectively. The Gamble is the second part of a trilogy, and the final part, The Signal, is a “humans through alien eyes” perspective shift, which gives me more leeway in narration. Both of those stories are proceeding, if slower than I like.

After some reflection, I have deduced that my fanfic is still ongoing, it’s just that the stress and strain from the pre- and post-election politics has fucked up my focus. Frisk is one of those characters that is very easy to project on (arguably by design) and that by itself makes the characters easy to write. The small town setting is also very familiar. The Frostpunk and Deltarune fics not so much, although they are not abandoned, just stagnant. We’ll see if I can get some updates out before 2021.

My non fiction work doesn’t fall into this same characterization bottleneck, so any delays are a result of research into the appropriate topics. The Post Apocalyptic Civilization Kit is currently waiting on some detailed analyses of disaster relief / response efforts and how well they worked, and after that there will be other blanks I need to fill in, but that’s all part of the process. Same with So They Called You Mad, my facetious how-to guide on becoming a Mad Scientist, and The Super Villain’s Starter Guide, which is the same thing as applied to becoming a criminal mastermind. (The overlap between the two means progress or delays with one book also carries over to the other.)