#I keep having trouble with my own prompts wtf

[mercurialrain]

Day 4: Gorgon

CW: Mentions of someone being blinded and brief suicidal thoughts

Felix woke to hearing distant shouts, the kind that usually meant arrogant heroes or angry villagers, neither of which meant good things for his peaceful existence. He sighed, the sound coming out more of a hiss as he stretched to get ready to meet whatever fate had decreed he meet today.

He left his cavern warily, listening and watching for any archers or warriors lying in wait. Seeing and sensing none, he continued on until he reached the only clearing between the village and the forest that led to his cave. He paused, trying to figure out what he was looking at. 

A girl was tied to a pole that looked like it had been hurriedly installed in the ground, her eyes bound in red fabric. She wore a thin slip that was filthy from presumably being dragged through the forest, with tiny cuts and bruises all over what skin he could see. Still, she held a proud posture, her head angled towards him as he got closer. 

“Are they giving away girlssss now?” He asked, watching as her head turned quickly in his direction. 

“Not girls in general, just me.” Her response was level. Not terrified, not pleading, just… calm. Very odd. 

“And why have you been given to me?”

“They want you to kill me.”

“Oh?” He crouched next to her and hooked a finger under her blindfold. “Were they aware that thissss may have protected you?”

She jerked her head up so the blindfold fell, revealing two milky eyes that saw nothing. “Yes, they were aware. That is why they blinded me.”

It was all he could do not to recoil. Her fellow humans had done this to her and then sacrificed her to him? Though he was considered a monster by most people, being a Gorgon, even he would not stoop to this level of cruelty. 

She seemed annoyed by his silence, turning those eyes on him as if she could see him. “Well? Are you going to kill me or not?”

“I have not decided yet, but you are not helping your case.”

“Take your time,” she said sarcastically, making Felix’s eye twitch in annoyance. 

He continued to crouch over her, thinking over his options. He couldn’t turn her to stone, obviously, but he could kill her. Quickly, with a slash to the throat and her life would be over before she knew it. It would be humane, really. 

But there was something about this girl. Here she was, faced with imminent death by the claws of one of the most feared monsters in the land and she had the nerve to sass him. She had a fight in her that told him that she would have had a long, successful life had this not happened to her. 

He was taken out of his thoughts by a hand touching the top of his head, petting some of the snakes’ scales. He jerked away from her touch, hissing out of habit. 

“What are you doing?”

She shrugged. “If I am to die anyway, then I was curious to know what your head snakes felt like. Besides, they do not seem too opposed.”

It was true, he had to admit. Instead of biting like he had expected, they leaned towards her touch, hissing in a gentle way that had no malice behind it. 

“Just- do not do that again. That is a good way to get a bite.”

“What do I care? I am about to meet Death anyway.”

“No, you will not,” he said, making his decision. With one claw, he slashed through her bindings. She tried to stand, but collapsed on unsteady legs. He rolled his eyes and helped her up, leading her back to his cave before depositing her on one of the flat rocks. 

“Why are you helping me? Why not just kill me and be done with it?”

I wish I knew. “You will inform me of humansssss’ weaknessesssss and in return, I will allow you to live.”

She scoffed. “Their weaknesses are right above their neck. For you, that means their eyes, for me that means their brains, or lack thereof.”

He sneered at her, even though he knew she wouldn’t see it. “Try not to be that obvious.”

She got up suddenly, stumbling around until she found the cavern entrance. For some reason, that panicked him and he leapt up, grabbing her before she could topple over. 

“What are you doing, you sssstupid girl!” 

The panic increased when he saw she was crying, fat tears rolling down her cheeks onto his chest as she weakly smacked at him to let her go. 

“Just let me die. Please?”

“What happened?” He was not in the habit of playing therapist to humans, but something in him told him that this was the right move. She went limp in his arms, sobbing against him while he awkwardly held her. 

He hadn’t been this close to another living creature that wasn’t trying to kill him in ages.

She finally subsided and he moved them to sit down, with her leaning against him. “My village was in the middle of a famine,” she began, her voice breaking. “I prayed to all the gods to help. I asked for anything that could help. One of the gods blessed me and I found I was able to make plants grow with a single touch.”

“That doesssss not ssssound sssso bad.”

“My village is a superstitious kind, the kind that does not believe in miracles or gifts. They’re odd, outliers in the community. One of them saw me at night wandering the fields, bringing our crops back to life. And then….” she trailed off. She didn’t need to continue, Felix already knew the rest. “I just wanted to help.”

“You cannot fix what doessss not want to be fixed.”

She sat in silence for a moment, seemingly thinking over what he’d said. “Hey, can I stay here?”

Felix instantly straightened, stunned. Stay? With him?

“Sssstay? Here? With me?”

“Yes. You seem like a good person. Or Gorgon? Whichever you would prefer, really.” He could see the hope on her face and suddenly every trace of resistance left him and he, the fearsome monster, found himself caving to a fragile human.

“Fine. You may ssstay. But what issss your name?”

“Marinette! Yours?”

“I am Felix. Welcome to the cave, Marinette.”

[rimupon]

I started writing a bit about Tanya on the Rhine, however (despite my desire to write) I cannot think of where to take it. I've established that she's generally unhappy with rations, has a small stash of coffee and chocolate with her (which she will not consume, because of the "what if I need it later?!?!" phenomenon all too familiar with people who play videogames), it is nearly Christmas, and Visha is... present. Say literally anything, I want to write about Youjo Senki I just have no idea what to do with it.

The desire to write burns very bright, so there is no hurry.

OKOKOK IDEAS! I'll do my best!!

Some sort of prompt… I can work with that. I assume this is a one-shot of some sort, so I'll keep it hopefully on the shorter side

I guess the first question is: is this the first stint on the Rhine with Visha, or is this Rhine Pt2 with the 203rd? Judging by ur description, i assume its round one.

Genuinely the first thought that came to mind is a fic that deals with the two corporals Tanya sent to the rear/pillbox? Her platoon is down two people at this point right, so it's just her and Visha…? Maybe they get replacements or something and it doesn't go well, or maybe they get reorganized into another platoon, or maybe they just dont, and those two have to work hard on their own. Something from there…

My next thought is a fluffier route… Perhaps either Visha or Tanya tries to make Christmas special somehow? I'm not sure how, but they try. Maybe Visha wants to get on Tanyas good side. Maybe Tanya wants to reward her subordinate. Maybe this is when Tanya discovers Visha can make Really Excellent Coffee?

Last thought is the angst route: Her first time on the Rhine is just after she gets the Type 95, so maybe she's having trouble adjusting to using it in live combat? Not in the "she gets seriously physically injured" way but the "she gets seriously mentally injured" way. You could tie it into Christmas again somehow, since technically its a religious holiday? Maybe Visha asks if Tanya wants to pray or something and shes like "WTF no why would u say that" and it comes to light the Type 95 has been messing with her behavior and she's really upset by this discovery.

I dunno, I hope that gets you somewhere. When u finish this fic, let me know/send a link, I'd love to read it!

[yaminerua]

I'm thinking for much of the rest of smegtober I'll have to switch to drawings because the writing part of my brain is getting fatigued lol but I managed to churn this last one out tonight ahead of the other one I have ready for tomorrow;;

As always, prompts are by @a-literal-toaster-wtf

Today's prompt was Test, which of course immediately calls forth images of Rimmer and his many examination attempts;;

Words: 4137

****

Rimmer had done it again. He had smegging gone and done it again.

Somehow, despite all the meticulous planning and obsessive timetabling, despite having carefully mapped out every hour of every day for the last few months to optimise his revision and maximise his chances of success, here he was again on the last night before the exam feeling no better prepared than he had been before he’d even started.

It always ended up like this. Every time exam season came around he would work tirelessly, relentlessly, trying to find a study pattern that worked, subdividing his free time evenly into rest periods and study periods, allocating every subject and topic its own slot to prioritise information retention. It should have been a flawless method, workshopped to the nth degree, sharpened and improved to perfection after so many attempts and yet even after all this effort, after all this time, the result was always the same; complete and utter humiliating failure.

Of course, the fact that much of this revision time was usually eaten up by preparing the timetables themselves in the first place was an important part of why he always found himself in this situation but he was loathe to do anything to change the habit, somehow convincing himself that it had only failed because he hadn’t found the perfect routine yet and that once he figured that out and constructed the timetable to end all timetables he would be golden and he could finally kiss the lowly rank of Second Technician goodbye.

The definition of madness, as they say, is trying the same thing over and over expecting a different result.

Huffing out a distressed, agitated breath, Rimmer dug the heels of his palms roughly into his eyes, rubbing vigorously until he saw stars. He had no idea what time it was anymore. The concept of time itself seemed to have faded into the background of his mind, locked away in a box he didn’t want to have to open because at this point knowing just how long he had left was likely to do nothing more than send him tipping fully over the edge of anxiety and into a full-blown panic attack and he knew from past experience that if he let that happen his shot at success would be over then and there.

He was virtually running on fumes at this point, the last few nights a desperate haze of stressed, sleep-deprived revising – if staring manically at an open textbook and taking absolutely none of it in for hours could really be called revising – and his eyes were positively burning with the effort it was taking just to keep them open.

His head ached. It was as though his very brain itself had swollen up in his skull, pressing up against the insides and throbbing profusely from the exertion of trying to cram multiple textbooks’ worth of knowledge into it in the space of a few hours. The pressure alone made him thankful for the relative silence of the bunkroom.

Lister was out. Some time ago he had disappeared off with the rest of his brainless gang of hooligan friends to drink himself to unconsciousness and dance until the early hours of the morning with whoever could stand to be around him. With any luck he might hit it off with some desperate tart who would take him off to her quarters and spare Rimmer the trouble of having to put up with a drunken Lister staggering his way back and breaking his concentration.

It was the only silver lining this whole situation had at the moment. With Lister out and suitably occupied for the night Rimmer didn’t have to battle against his textbooks while enduring the torture of listening to Lister utterly murder a halfway decent song with his toneless singing or his even more unbearable guitar playing.

Aside from the background hum of Red Dwarf all around, there wasn’t a single other disruptive sound to complain about – which also meant there wasn’t an adequate distraction to blame his imminent failure on if it came down to it later.

Removing his hands from his face, he blinked the room slowly back into focus and hunched forwards over his textbook again, feeling the tension in his neck and the ache between his shoulder blades from too long spent in this exact position.

He felt as though he had been stuck trying to read the same sentence for hours, as though his brain had stalled and he couldn’t move past it until it started up again. Oh sure, his eyes would skim the letters and recognise the shapes and the words were certainly words he knew individually but as far as the meaning of the sentence as a whole and the information it held were concerned, Rimmer had absolutely no idea what he was reading.

It was as though the part of his brain that registered new information had gone on strike. Nothing was getting through and all that he seemed to be achieving by continuing to try to force it to was making his head and eyes hurt even more.

He needed to rest but there was no time for rest anymore. Frankly he was terrified that if he even so much as allowed himself the briefest moment to nap then he would sleep right through the exam and have to go through this whole nightmare all over again. He wasn’t prepared for that. Revision was key right now and sleep could wait. He would have plenty of time (not to mention peace of mind) to be able to catch up on the rest he’d missed once the exam was over and he’d passed the stupid smegging thing.

Frowning down at the page he blinked furiously, finding it more and more difficult to keep the lettering clear and sharp in his vision. Everything was starting to smudge at the edges, to bleed into the space around it as though there was something in his eye that wasn’t budging no matter how much he tried to blink or rub it away.

He shook his head, leaning further forwards towards the textbook, squinting to see if maybe that would help sharpen things by narrowing his field of view but it was no use.

The harder he stared at it, the more desperately he attempted to take in so much as a single solitary sentence, the more the words on the page swam dizzyingly just to spite him, rippling and distorting before his very eyes until they better resembled a particularly unappetising-looking kind of alphabet soup than anything comprehensible.

He dropped his forehead down to rest between the pages of the textbook, eyelids scrunching shut as he groaned plaintively into the quiet of the room. Why was his brain conspiring against him at this hour? He only had hours left and it was betraying him. Why was he wasting time wrestling with himself like this when he only had a limited window of opportunity to make some good, solid progress before Lister came back and crashed unceremoniously through his focus with all the grace of a hippo let loose on an ice rink? He didn’t have time for this!

Just to drive home exactly how much the universe had it in for Arnold J. Rimmer, the moment that desperate thought had so much as flitted miserably across his mind his ears picked up the tell-tale distant hollers of giddy, raucous laughter emanating from somewhere outside, growing steadily louder with every drunken, staggered step.

Pass by, don’t come in. Pass by, don’t come in… Rimmer thought fervently, repeating it over and over, beseechingly, in his head like some sort of desperate mantra, praying to whatever god might exist out there to take pity on him for just once in his smegging life but as had been well-established by now, if there was a god they certainly didn’t have a heart.

The door to the sleeping quarters slid open with a harsh, piercing hiss and in staggered one extremely wasted David Lister, an open can of Leopard Lager in his hand and a lit cigarette in the other.

With great difficulty he co-ordinated a clumsy wave to the retreating backs of Petersen and the others before he finally turned his attention to Rimmer, who had by this point straightened up stiffly at his desk and was doing his level best to try to pretend that he wasn’t secretly weighing up the pros and cons of throwing Lister out an airlock and blaming it on his own drink-addled mind. Unfortunately he didn’t think the ship’s CCTV would be on his side there so he begrudgingly had to shelf that idea.

As Lister stumbled his way towards him and leaned in far too close over his shoulder, the stench of beery breath and tobacco met his nostrils and he grimaced. “Lister, go away,” he hissed through tightly gritted teeth, every muscle in his body tightly clenched to resist the urge to swat at him and push him back. “I’m trying to revise.”

“Smeg, Rimmer, you’re such a bore!” Lister said, entirely too loud and entirely too close to his ear, his words slurring pathetically together. “You need to live more!”

Rimmer sniffed indignantly and finally deigned to press the back of his hand to Lister’s front and push him firmly away. “I’ll have plenty of time to do that once I’m an officer,” he said matter-of-factly, ignoring how hollow he felt inside as he said it. “For now my priorities lie elsewhere.”

Lister snorted and he took a long swig of his can of lager. “Yeah, bein’ a bore,” he muttered, staggering back over toward his bunk, humming tuneless snippets of Lunar City Seven as he went.

Rimmer could throttle him, honestly, but he bit back the impulse, however inviting it may have been. Instead he remained as he was, staring bitterly, contemptuously down at the infuriating textbook in front of him, taking nothing in while he listened to the rustling and shuffling of Lister moving about behind him, hopefully getting ready for bed.

He heard the discordant squeak of the ladder as Lister clambered his way up it and the tell-tale creak of the top bunk as it took the full weight of Lister’s body on it and he heaved a premature sigh of relief at this inconvenient interruption hopefully being only a brief one.

Before long, just like he hoped, the movement behind him stilled and Lister grew silent – or as silent as he could be given his tendency to snore – and Rimmer finally allowed himself to release some of the tension he had been holding. Maybe the brief distraction might have helped in a way, might have cleared his head enough for him to return his attention back to what was actually important.

He was mindful, agonisingly so, about how very little time he had left now. Since Lister had come back that meant that time had progressed considerably while he hadn’t been paying attention to it and he surely only had a measly handful of hours left at the most to fill his head with enough knowledge to pass. He flexed his fingers nervously, hyper-aware of the sweat beading on his brow as he considered opting for the last resort. It was the only hope he had left.

Glancing shiftily at the door and warily back over his shoulder, he watched Lister’s sleeping form for a good long moment, trying to ascertain for sure whether he was absolutely asleep and unaware of his surroundings. The last thing he needed was Lister of all people waking up and potentially ratting him out. That would be a fate worse than death.

Seeing that, for now, the coast was clear, he swallowed thickly and reached slowly, shakily, into the right hand pocket of his trousers, procuring from it a small, nondescript packet of little white pellets. Learning pills were strictly not allowed on board Red Dwarf. Rimmer knew that well. He had on numerous occasions in the past reprimanded countless other crewmates who he had spotted with the offending little things, scoffing obnoxiously at their pathetic need to rely on something illegal to help them succeed, all the while holding onto them himself instead of turning them in in case of a rainy day. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

He opened the cap quietly and, with a trembling hand, tipped two pills out onto his palm before hurriedly stowing the container away again. He stared down at them apprehensively, heart hammering in his chest and stomach churning at the sickening, depressing realisation that it really had come to this. If he wanted any chance of passing they were his only hope.

With one last quick, anxious glance back at Lister, he popped them in his mouth before he could change his mind and washed them down hastily with what was left of his almost-forgotten glass of water.

He waited a few moments for the panicked surge of nerves to subside, giving the drugs some time to hit his stomach and begin to make their way into his system. He wasn’t entirely sure quite how good an idea it had been to take them on an empty stomach when he was as sleep-deprived and physically exhausted as he was but he had done it now and his fate rested with them.

Lowering his gaze down to the Astro-Navigation textbook again, he sucked in a shaky breath and let it out slowly, trying to channel what little mental energy he was still clinging onto into focusing on the words in front of him, praying that the learning pills would aid him in retaining the information. Even if all they managed to do was hold the knowledge in his head long enough for him to regurgitate it all out during the exam and then forget all of it immediately afterwards that would be fine. He just needed it to last for a few hours.

Evidently he had left resorting to this final option a little too late. They ought to have invented pills that helped him focus as well.

Maybe it was the tiredness, maybe it was the stress, maybe it was a combination of both but it didn’t matter how hard he tried, how much he squinted and strained his eyes to try to make sense of any of the words in front of him. His mind had clearly shuttered itself off and was simply not allowing anything more in. He could stare at this page and all of the words written on it for the rest of the day and it would simply never make it through. He was doomed.

Raking his hands raggedly through his hair, Rimmer let out a low, tortured groan, dropping his head onto the table and clenching his eyes tight shut so he didn’t have to see the textbook anymore, didn’t have to look hopelessly down at the same stupid page he had spent most of the night so far stuck unable to get past. It was going to take a miracle to get anything of use to enter his brain now, even with the aid of learning pills.

He must have looked pathetic, sitting there slumped with his head on the desk and his hands in his hair. He had made an absolute mess of himself by now, his usually neat, severe side parting completely unravelling, the forcibly tamed curls freed from the submission they were usually brushed harshly into. He looked thoroughly dishevelled, as though he had been pulling his hair out all night. In many ways, that probably wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

Breathing out roughly, he let his head roll miserably to the side, sliding his eyes open to gaze dolefully, enviously, over at Lennon and McCartney, Lister’s stupid robotic goldfish that he’d brought back from his last shore leave trip. They were swimming slowly, mesmerisingly, around their bowl in repetitive, mindless little circles without a single care in the world, without a shred of responsibility or expectation or disappointment weighing down on them and as Rimmer watched them absently, dazedly, as though he were hypnotised, he felt something hollow and mournful settle unpleasantly behind his chest.

God, he wished he was a fish…

He remained like that, utterly entranced, his mind far away, for the next four hours and although he wasn’t exactly asleep, when the intercom finally sounded and Holly’s monotonous voice droned out the important morning announcements, it was as though he was dead to the world and he didn’t hear a word of it.

“Will all entrants for the Astro-Navigation exam please make their way to the teaching room. The exam will begin soon.”

On the top bunk, Lister stirred slightly, his face scrunching up as the loud chime of the intercom pierced through the deep veil of drunken sleep he had been nestled in and rudely stabbed his hung-over brain like an arrow.

Peeling a tired eye open, he squinted groggily over at the desk where Rimmer was still sat, hunched over and seemingly asleep. “Rimmer?” he called out, his throat hoarse after the night’s antics. “You awake?”

There came no response, which was an answer in and of itself. Lister groaned, rubbing his eyes vigorously before lifting his head with great difficulty up off the pillow. “Rimmer,” he said again, a little louder this time.

When Rimmer still failed to have any reaction at all, Lister rolled his eyes and with great effort, begrudgingly heaved his heavy aching body up into a sitting position, clutching his head momentarily as it swam dizzyingly from the change in posture. He didn’t want to have to be awake yet and would rather have slept off the rest of his night out until well into the afternoon but he knew that dealing with a hung-over headache from a premature wake-up call would be far more preferable to the absolute monster migraine Rimmer would give him for failing to wake him up in time for his exam.

Stumbling over towards him, Lister reached out to shake him by the shoulder and froze when he realised that Rimmer didn’t seem to be asleep after all. In any case he certainly had his eyes open though whether he was still conscious remained to be seen. For now he was staring unblinkingly over at the fish tank, his expression completely vacant like some kind of lifeless zombie. It was more than just a little bit disconcerting.

“Hey, Rimmer, man,” Lister said uncertainly, waving a hand tentatively in front of Rimmer’s face. “You okay?”

The reaction was almost instant. The moment Lister’s hands came into view, Rimmer’s expression crumpled like a tin can subjected to tremendous pressure, his eyes snapping shut as he brought a hand up to rub at his face. “Ugh,” he groaned, pulling himself stiffly back into an upright sitting position, his neck and shoulders aching.

Lister watched him warily, an eyebrow quirked with mild concern. He’d seen Rimmer work himself up into an exhausted wreck before but never quite like this. “You alright?” he asked again.

“Of course I’m alright, you gimboid!” Rimmer snapped irritably, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose tightly, wincing at the sound of his own voice in his ears. “What do you want?”

Lister’s face creased into a frown and he crossed his arms moodily over his chest. So much for a grateful morning greeting. “Just thought I’d wake you,” he said, glancing at the clock on the sink beside the bunks. “Since it’s exam o’clock now and all.”

Rimmer looked like he had just been force fed a particularly sour and putrid lemon.

“WHAT!?” he cried, horrified, leaping to his feet suddenly and nearly knocking the chair he had been sitting on over in the process. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I wasn’t awake!” Lister said, holding his hands up innocently. “I just woke up meself!”

Rimmer wasn’t paying any attention to him anymore. He was in an absolute panicked frenzy, scrambling for his comb and attempting to carve his forgotten side parting back into existence before gathering up the rest of his things.

Lister watched him, bemused, and had to stop him at one point when he spotted that Rimmer was about to squeeze foot cream onto his toothbrush. Handing him the correct tube, he fixed him with a dubious stare. “You sure you’re alright, man?” he asked. “You were starin’ at me fish all in a trance just there.”

“That was intentional, Lister!” Rimmer stated, but the projected confidence was an unconvincing façade. “I had finished revising everything and was simply taking a break to let the information settle in my brain!”

Lister wasn’t fooled in the slightest. “Uh huh,” he said flatly.

Rimmer clicked his tongue and curled his lip, fixing Lister’s reflection with a contemptuous, dark look. “You wouldn’t understand, Listy,” he sneered, straightening up his tie and giving his hair a final firm comb through. “You’ve never put the slightest bit of effort in in your entire life. As for me, the only way is up! Up, up—”

“Yeah, yeah, Rimmer,” Lister cut him off, waving a hand dismissively before transitioning it into a mocking impersonation of Rimmer’s usual elaborate salute. “Up, up the ziggurat lickety split.” He punctuated that last word with a sharp slap to his forehead. “I know.”

Rimmer shot him a look, cold and hard, and then turned back one last time to check his appearance over in the mirror. The intercom sound rang out hollow and daunting into the bunkroom again and Lister saw Rimmer’s entire body stiffen immediately.

“Last call for the Astro-Navigation exam. Will all entrants please make their way to the teaching room. The exam is about to begin.”

Rimmer swallowed thickly and flexed his fingers and for all the affected confidence and false bravado he put on, Lister could still see the petrified, haunted look behind his eyes that belied his true feelings on the matter.

“Listen, man,” he said gently, sincerely, feeling almost sympathetic towards the man all of a sudden, fighting the urge to reach out and give him an encouraging pat on the arm. “Good luck.”

Rimmer bristled and his expression creased into a forced, stretched smile. “Luck, Lister?” he echoed, rocking anxiously on the balls of his feet. “I don’t need luck. I’ve got everything I need to succeed right up” – he brought a hand up to tap a finger quickly to his temple – “here.”

“Yeah,” came Lister’s doubtful, sarcastic response. “Good luck.”

He raised his eyebrows, fixing Rimmer with a look that said “Trust me, you’re gonna need all the luck you can get.”

Rimmer seemed to pick up on it, the plastered smile on his face faltering slightly as his adam’s apple bobbed nervously in his throat. “Right,” he said stiffly, tensely, hands balled tightly into fists at his sides. “Well, then. Goodbye, Lister.”

There was a maddened look in his eyes, something wild and desperate and beseeching, as though he was almost begging Lister to do something to stop him from walking out there to his inevitable doom even if it meant he had to resort to knocking him unconscious.

He stood there awkwardly, frozen in fear for another uncomfortably long number of seconds, rocking back and forth on his feet before he finally accepted that no miraculous divine intervention was coming and he was going to have to just go for it.

Picking up his pens and popping them neatly in his pocket, he gave Lister one final, incredibly rigid nod of acknowledgement and strode swiftly, almost robotically out of the room with such a grave look of dread on his face he might as well have been on death row.

Lister watched him go with an almost pitying look of gentle compassion pulling on his face. He didn’t like Rimmer – no-one did – but he couldn’t help but feel just a little bit bad for the guy. He had been putting himself through these exams since long before Lister had ever even met him, driven by something he couldn’t relate to, a burning urge to make something of himself no matter how long it took even when it was probably pointless.

Maybe he didn’t deserve the power that advancement up the career ladder would give him, maybe it would turn him into even more of an insufferably unbearable smeghead, but if just so that Lister wouldn’t have to endure another night of Rimmer drowning his sorrows and cursing the universe for being out to get him, he hoped this time that something would go different.

Whatever he had been hoping, whatever he had been expecting, an exam paper scrawled with nothing but ‘I am a fish’ had absolutely not been it.

Oh well. There was always next time.

[asoulofatlantis]

"By the way" my ass! You are the daughter of a Galbadian Mayor who tried to kidnap the Galbadian president. WTF?!

(BTW... I find it easier to play this game now that we have finished the mess that is Timber and the plot of the game is finally starting to get more interesting.)

Squall leashed out at Rinoa before too, because she is just stupidly naive and never thinks things through. Her plans are vague and don't really incorporate any possible consequences. And if something changes she drops the plan without considering all the work and time that other people already put into it. Its clear as day that a well-trained SeeD can be nothing but annoyed by that. I think in Squalls case, you can also add the fact that he was also annoyed that he had to work with that Woman for an absolutely unreasonable amount of time, as their contract said "Until Timbers independence". Like, with the way Rinoa and her team did things, they would have probably been stuck with her forever. In Quistis case, however, there was something else added. Jealousy. So far, she hasn't shown it, but I think Rinoa asking for Squall immediately after entering kind of was the last straw. After all, tghis is the girl who managed to make Squall dance with her, even tho she was a total stranger and yet, when Quistis, who Squall knows for a while, wanted someone to listen to her, he refused. Its clear as day that this pissed her off and now is the moment were she couldn't hold it back any longer. You must also see that Squall, even tho annoyed by her, decided to keep the contract going, despite the fact that Rinoas father was the way out of it, which is some sign of some sort of attachment to her, that as someone who knows Squall very well Quistis could hardly have overlooked. And now they are in a rather stressful position and FINALLY, Squall understood that Quistis has some sort of valua, which is why he gave her the leading position for the second team and now it feel slike Rinoa wants to ruin it with her stupid plan.

The controller in my hand says it is one XD Jokes aside... I understand that this is frustrating for her BUT this is the second time someone said something like this to her, so MAYBE she should think about WHY someone said it to her two times in just one day? ALSO she does get herself in a lot of trouble with her careless acting, so certainly at the end of the day, Quistis was right.

I think it speaks for Quistis maturity that she understands she was a bit too harsh, even tho I am sure she also knows that she was right. But she knew she chose to be so harsh for a less professional reason and thus she now feels bad about it. Gets us in a bit of trouble... but it makes her look like the good character she actually is, instead of like a Harpy that scratches out the eyes of every woman who her man gets along with.

Fun fact: The first time I played this game I had no walkthrough or anything like that and thus I was stuck in this room for HOURS because it took me AGES before I finally by total accident found out how the hell to get out of this room through the secret door. Of course, ever since then I always remembered how it works. So no worry, we will be out here in no time XD

She wanted to prove that she can help, even tho she is no SeeD, but she actually only proved how much of a failure she is ^^'

Pun absolutely intended XD

Honestly? Even if Rinoa got out of her stupor in time for the attack, given her lack in training and all that, that monster should have long eaten her by now. It took ages for the parade to start, no way in hell did she last that long on her own.

And thus ends what once was disc one of the game. Even now you still get the prompt to save XD Anyway... there is no freaking way in hell that Squall should have survived this. And I think they never truly answered how he did survive it, because I think Squall himself questioned it.

Oh! Right! I forgot that we got the Winhill-Sequence right at the start of Disk two. Now you will be able to meet Squalls mother and his (more or less) adoptive sister in child form - as you have meet her as an adult already, just in case you didn't notice ;P

Look at the house, the holes... and that looks like old blood on the wall. You do NOT want to know how Ells parents died, that much is for sure.

Hm... now why does this name ring a bell? Hm... hm... I could have sworn I've heard it just recently... XD Jokes aside, here we have the grand reveal that Rinoa is Julias daughter. At this point tho, it really is just a sidenote that means nothing to you.

She waited roughly a year, that doesn't sound like true love to me. After all, she just got married, so she waited even less then a year to fall in love again. Also... imagine Caraway having to listen to "Eyes on me" all the time, knowing its about another man his wife once loved... ^^'

Ell just wanted to tell you what Uncle Laguna and Rain are... but apparently, he prefers to keep that a secret for now XD

She can't stand his snoring and he talks in his sleep... in case you wanted to know where Squall came from... you've got the confirmation that they do essentially spend the night together XD Ellone gets kidnapped not so long after this Laguna saves her and instead of returning to Winhil he goes to Esthar, but he did send Ell back to Winhill were she basically arrived just as Rain gave birth to Squall. So... do the math! XD

Makes total sense, right? XD

[haikyuucute]

Yo okay what about alphaTendou who meets a cute omega on campus while out on a night walk cuz hes been sexiled by alphaushi and his mate? They spend all night together just having a good time together wrecking havoc on the school grounds until the sun comes up. after that he just can't get enough of the good girl omega in the other class that he knows has a more adventurous side to her than she lets on and even though shes shy shes pretty eager to have his attention when others think he's creepy

Hello I sent the alphaTendou prompt in last night but I've been thinking about it a lot lol and what if after their late night hang, Tendou tests the waters by scenting her randomly, and people are like "wtf that creepy alpha scented you??" cuz no one really knows they're hanging out and she's just like "idk i don't smell anything" just to fucking rile him up so he keeps doing it more and she keeps denying its happening until he snaps & fucks/marks her somewhere outside during a nighttime hang (2/3)

Part 3??? For alphaTendou, the lil omega is just like "all according to keikaku" afterwards and Tendou is just all heart eyes. Apologies for spamming u btw (3/3)

Y’know, I wasn’t a simp for Tendou before, but after writing this I sure fucking am now.

This was a pretty long request so I decided to break it down into headcanons for the beginning part and write a drabble for the smut~

Ty for requesting💞~

Warning: Smut, degredation, some blood

Perfect (Tendou Satori) [Omegaverse AU]

By now Tendou was pretty used fo getting kicked out of his dorm whenever Ushijima or Ushijima’s mate had gone into heat or had a rut

Which usually had him staying in Semi’s and Reon’s dorm until he could come back

Tonight however, he decided to walk around campus before going to their dorm

The sun had already set when he went out and he hadn’t been expecting to really find anyone outside

But then he heard loud ruffling and the scent of an omega had reached his nose

Out of curiosity he went to investigate the noise

That was when he found you, kneeling in front of a vending machine with the glass door wide open, giving you access to everything inside

He watched on in amusement, staying hidden, as you shoved bags of chips and candy into your bag, with candy bar sticking out of your mouth

You suddenly stopped, eyes widening as you scented the air

You didn’t really recognize the scent but you knew it was an alpha and the last thing you needed was to run into an alpha that would rat you out

So you quickly shut and relocked the vending machine before going to head back inside, but as you were about to pass the corner he was hidden behind, he grabbed your wrist

You jumped, facing him to find him staring down at you with an unsettling smile that would make any omega run for the hills

But you laughed instead

He was slightly confused but all the more intrigued by you

”You know you can get in trouble for stealing from the vending machine” “Only if I get caught”

And just like that, this boy was hooked

You recognized him, the volleyball club was only one of the most popular clubs in the school so of course you did

You also knew his reputation for being kind of weird, but with him standing in front of you right now, you just thought he was funny

So you asked if he wanted any of your snacks, and Tendou wanting to know more about you accepted

You took him to a bench before dumping out your bag and letting him have his pick and the two of you ended up talking while eating the stollen snacks

And all it did was solidify your increasing interest in the other

So afterwards you decided you wanted to show him something

And you proceeded to break into the school’s private pool

And quite honestly, that alone was enough to make Tendou want to claim you as his omega

like he had never met an omega as daring and adventurous as you, and you were so pretty, and you weren’t creeped out by him either

you were perfect

Later that night he found his way to Semi’s and Reon’s dorm, soaking wet after he had attempted to push you into the pool, but because you dodged him, he had fallen in instead

lol Semi was not amused

The next day in class, Tendou was determined to find out more about you

He already knew your name and what class you were in, so it was only a matter of asking others about you

That was when he found something even more interesting about you

Because the reactions of his classmates weren’t ones he was expecting

”(L/N)-chan? Isn’t she that shy omega in class 2-A?”

”She’s probably one of the sweetest omegas in the school, though I heard she’s kind of a goody two shoes”

”I don’t know a lot about her, but she’s very soft spoken I heard, and a bit of a prude apparently”

He almost didn’t believe it at first, they had been describing a completely different person from the one he had met last night

But he quickly realized they really were talking about you

And nothing excited Tendou more than knowing the girl that everyone perceived as shy and innocent was the most daring omega he had ever met

You were like his little secret

Later that night he had gone searching for you and was happy to find you trying to climb up a tree

From that night on it became a nightly thing to hang out and do whatever the fuck you two wanted to do

Even if that did mean almost getting caught by teachers and other students multiple times

It wasn’t until a few nights later that he had started scenting you, in attempts to see if you were interested

You weren’t stupid but you sure did love playing stupid when it came to the whole scenting ordeal

You knew he was doing it, the extra touching was a clear indication as well as the lingering scent of alpha on you

but you acted oblivious to it, just to see what he’d do

And you took every opportunity to deny his scent on you when it arose

like when one of your classmates asked you about it when you knew he was right around the corner

”Why do you smell like that creepy alpha on the volleyball team?” “Who?” “Tendou Satori” “Oh him? Don’t be silly, I don’t smell like him”

So he did it more, his touches lingering even longer, ruffling your hair, brushing his body against yours, and so on

but when he overheard another conversation he was getting impatient

”Since when have you been hanging out with Tendou?” “Why do you ask?” “You reek of his scent” “Oh that’s funny, I can’t smell anything”

He was sure you were fucking with him now

So that night, before the two of you parted after one of your hang outs, he hugged you tightly against him, making it blatantly obvious as to what he was doing

However the next day...

“You know you should stay away from Tendou, he’s kind of weird.” “What’s bringing this up?” “You smell like him” “Y’know, people keep saying that, but I really don’t smell a thing”

If your goal was to rile up Tendou, then consider him riled

But his tipping point was when the two of you were behind the school and you said:

”You know everyone keeps saying I smell like you, isn’t that funny?”

And the glint in your eye when you looked at him, combined with your seemingly innocent smirk made his eyes darken

He realized you really were fucking with him

The next thing you knew, your front was pushed against the brick wall of the school

And his lips were against the shell of your ear

”You’re acting naughty, Omega~” “Then I guess you better put me in my place”

That was all he needed before he was pushing his pants down, lifting your skirt up, and moving your panties aside~

Tendou was unforgiving with his thrusts, and the dirty words he was muttering against your ear would have made you cry out louder if it weren’t for the two fingers that were shoved in your mouth and gagging you.

The bricks of the wall bit painfully into your cheek, but you couldn’t care less in that moment as Tendou fucked you silly.

”Messy girl~” he giggled breathlessly, watching as you drooled down the side of your mouth and on his hand.

You babbled incoherently around his fingers, making him laugh again.

”What was that little omega? I didn’t quite get that,” he teased, punctuating it by shoving his fingers further into your mouth, making you gag.

You continued to moan around his fingers as a trail of tears leaked out of your eyes. His thrusts picked up, the arm around your waist tightening further as he set an even rougher pace, each thrust pulling more and more whimpers from you.

”Do you like being treated like a dirty whore, Omega?“ he grunted, “Do you like knowing everyone thinks you’re an innocent little omega, when you’re really a little slut that knows how to take my cock?”

You moaned again, trying your best to nod.

”Ah~ that’s what I thought,” he said, with a nip to your ear.

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, all the noises you made no longer being muffled.

”You better stay quiet, you don’t want us to get caught do you?” He mocked, his hand finding it’s way into the front of your panties, his fingers drenched in your drool now playing with your clit.

”Alpha,” you cried out, making his grin widen.

”Oh? Maybe you do want us to get caught— Do you like the idea of someone finding your Alpha fucking you?” He practically growled, “You want others to know I own your pretty pussy?”

You whined, feeling yourself about to cum, “Alpha— ‘m gonna—“

The arm around your waist moved as he threaded his fingers in your hair, pulling your head to the side, and exposing your neck for him, “Fuck— cum for me my pretty Omega.”

A few more angled thrusts inside you had you cumming hard, bracing yourself on your arms against the wall.

The way you clenched around Tendou’s cock had him cumming with a groan in seconds along with you, and in that moment he had sunk his teeth into the skin of your neck. The pain along with the pleasure made you cry out, reducing you to a whimpering mess once you came down from the high.

You fell slack against Tendou, your legs not able to keep you up anymore, but he easily held you up.

He pulled out, making you whimper slightly louder.

Your head lolled back to look up at him, feeling absolutely exhausted, “Y-you marked me,” you softly stuttered.

He grinned, leaning down to lick the blood on your neck from his bite, “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was your Alpha.” He said, making you tiredly smile at him.

Tendou decided since he had just claimed you, he’d have you sleep with him in his dorm, knowing Ushijima wouldn’t mind since he always had his own mate over anyway.

Since you couldn’t walk very well now, he had carried you on his back, letting you nuzzle your nose against the scent gland in his neck.

You sighed blissfully, “You know I planned this out, right?” You mumbled.

He narrowed his eyes in thought, “You planned that I’d claim you?”

You nodded against his neck, “Yeah— you’re very easy to read.”

At that, Tendou pinched your thigh, making you yelp. But he couldn’t help the smile that curled at his lips, knowing that he had definitely found the perfect omega.

—

Omegaverse AU Taglist:

—couldn’t tag bolded—

@shiguraaa @tycrackculture @kynyta @cuddlesslut @icedhoneygreentea @yams046 @cutepet09 @kkimoka @elegant-gypsophilia @mrkoala4prsdnt @sapphy-taffy6969 @yougivemebutterfliess @melanieacademy @yeet-these-hoez @nekomasmeow @thirsthourdemon

[frogtanii]

hi! noah anon here again, um ahaha, i may have been inspired to write a part 2 to my previous atsumu hurt/comfort drabble, i hope that's okay! ive been living for protective!y/n ever since they fought meiko for suga, so i wanted to sort of portray that!

-

from the way atsumu's breathing had evened out, you assumed he'd finally fallen asleep. exhaustion from the rough night he had taking over as he laid in your bed, wrapped up in your comforting embrace. atsumu's forehead rested in the crook of your neck and his nose pressed up against your collarbone, soft breaths tickling the sensitive skin. his arm laid across your stomach, keeping you close. for the first time since he walked into your room that night, he looked peaceful.

you on the other hand, were pissed; still stewing with rage over the events of the night. the main target of your aggression being none other than miya osamu himself. how could someone be so cold to their own twin?

the more you thought about it, the more restless you got, a pit of frustration growing and twisting uncomfortably in your gut. laying still was starting to prove a difficult task. with all of this frustrated energy you just needed to move — do something, before you went insane. so as carefully as you could, you slipped out from under atsumu, gently pushing a pillow under him for support.

shutting your door as quietly as possible you padded your way into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and an aspirin for atsumu. he'd probably need it for when he woke up, and it was the perfect excuse to get up and move around. however, as you neared the kitchen, you noticed a figure searching through the snack cabinets, grey hairs poking out into your field of vision. of course now of all times you'd run into the object of your current frustration. did you universe hate you or something?

just ignore him, you thought to yourself, no sense in getting into a conflict tonight.

as quietly as possible, you pulled a glass cup from the cabinet and filled it up with water. you had asprin in your room, so there was no need to grab any from the common area. your next objective was to exit the kitchen as quick as possible before your urge to punch osamu in the face increased any more. at this moment, his mere presence was enough to up your anger levels.

however, the second you spun on your heels to leave, osamu was also making his way out of the kitchen, causing the two of you to almost collide. luckily osamu reacted quickly, stepping back and preventing anything from being spilt.

"fucking watch it!" he spit out, expression twisting into one of contempt.

you scoffed at his outburst, ready to hit him with a few choice words, but by the time your lips parted he was already storming out of the kitchen and into the living room. a high pitched voice could be heard when he entered, sending another wave of fury coursing through your veins. "thank you 'samu, you're the best!"

"of course baby," osamu responded, "now let's start our movie."

the noise of some cheesy romance movie soon filled the living room and all surrounding areas, way too loud for this late of an hour in your opinion. it only added to your irritation, and without even thinking you were marching yourself to the living room with conviction, glass of water left behind on the kitchen island.

usually you never sought out trouble, and you weren't too fond of confrontation when it could be avoided. in the beginning of your time in the hyper house, maybe, but as time passed you soon learned nothing you said would change anything. so to save some sanity you resorted to short quips and just plain ignoring your housemates, once your contract was up none of it mattered anymore anyway. but after holding atsumu for an hour while he sobbed, and osamu's entitled attitude, something in you snapped. fuck being the bigger person.

so with your shoulders back and head held high you stormed into the living room, snatching the remote from coffee table to pause the movie playing.

that certainly grabbed their attention.

"the fuck is yer problem?" osamu vetted, standing to square up to you, fists clenched at his side and jaw tense. meiko followed suit, but took her position slightly behind osamu, nimble fingers gripping his bicep.

"my problem? hmm let's see, maybe my problem is the fact that i just held your brother as he cried himself to sleep while you were out here cuddled up on the couch!"

meiko snickered from behind him, and you had to stop yourself from lunging at her. how dare she laugh at his pain?

"'tsumu's fine, he'll get over it. now leave so we can watch our movie." your eyes went wide at osamu's response. did he really not care?

"he's your brother, and you hurt him." the annoyed expression on osamu's face fell slightly at your statement, but he quickly recovered, expression morphing into one that could kill.  "don't act so innocent, you were probably in there twisting his mind with your little lies. you know everything that's happened between us has been your fault? you're the one that turned him against me!" his voice was gradually increasing him volume and malice, you obviously getting under his skin.

"oh please, you're still telling yourself that?" you inched closer to the pair, chin lifting up to meet osamu's steely glare, your attempt at intimidation working only on the small woman behind him.

"'samu, shes scaring me, please make her leave," meiko whimpered. Osamu placed a protective arm around her, pulling her into his side, "don't worry baby, i won't let her near you." you rolled your eyes at meiko, her feigned fear sending your patience over the edge.

"oh shut up, meiko," you snapped, causing her to coward further into osamu.  "hey, don't talk to her like that!" he shot back at you, eyes darkening as he towered over your form, but you refused to back down.

"i'm texting iwaizumi, he can make her leave." meiko began typing furiously on her phone.

you chose to ignore her, prioritizing getting in your final words before iwaizumi could come to their resuce. "you've got your head completely up your ass if you think anyone but yourself is to blame for your broken relationship with 'tsumu!"

"you have no right to—"

"what the hell is going on here?" iwaizumi stormed into the room, large arms crossed over his chest as he placed himself between you and your victims.

"iwa, thank god! me and 'samu were trying to watch a movie when y/n just came in here and started attacking us! it was so scary, please make her leave!"

you scoffed at meiko's fabricated story, but before you could even begin to defend yourself iwa spoke, "y/n, go back to your room before im forced to take action." despite his dagger sharp gaze, you refused to shrink. you were going to get your point in regardless of any threats iwaizumi threw your way. so shooting him a quick and dismissive glare, you turned your attention back to osamu and meiko to get in one final blow.

"look, i don't know what your problem with me is, and frankly i don't care. but leave atsumu the fuck out your sick little games." the venom in your voice was enough to strike real fear into meiko, who was now completely hiding behind osamu for protection. even osamu's intimidating demeanor faltered at your protectiveness over his brother.

iwaizumi was the first to break the tension, "y/n, go—"

"yeah yeah, i got it, im leaving." your cut him short, giving osamu one last glare before exiting the living room, stopping to grab the glass of water from the kitchen before heading back to your room.

in your frustration you'd completely forgotten atsumu was asleep, accidentally shutting your door back with a little too much force. "angel?" atsumu's sleep drenched voice pulled you from your stewing thoughts, and you felt any and all anger melt away when you locked eyes with him.

"where'd you go off to?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes and sitting up. you snatched a bottle of asprin from your night stand and extended it to him along with the glass of water, "figured you'd want this when you woke up."

the corner of his mouth lifted up into a lopsided smile as he accepted your offer, downing a pill and half the water in one go, "yer too good to me, angel."

you offered up a soft smile as you took the glass and pill bottle back from him and set them on your nightstand. you took a seat on your bed next to atsumu, pushing back his disheveled hair back with one hand, prompting him to let out a content hum.

"i'm sorry for waking you," you whispered, letting your hand trail down the side of his face before coming to rest against his jaw, "how are you feeling?"

atsumu leaned into your touch, "much better, thanks to you. but, can we lay down again?"

you nodded, falling back to a laying position with atsumu following suit. however, this time he pulled you into his chest, holding you in his arms. you sunk further into him, finding it much easier to sleep this time as his warmth surrounded you and calmed your nerves.

-

i got a little carried away and this ended up a little longer than i intended, oops, oh well! i hope you like it!

— noah anon

hhhh,,, BESTIE OMFG UR SO SO SO TALENTED WTF???? do u have a blog cs if so sharty drop the @ ahaha (jk only if u feel comfy!!) i just mean WOW WOW WOW WOWIE

[cloveroctobers]

CRANES IN THE SKY | C. Jackson

Requested: Nope! I saw a fluff prompt that sounded great for Chris so this is what I came up with! Prompt — “Stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

WARNINGS: mentions of mental illness, sadness, depression, and “curse words”

YOU were going through it. Life was just becoming a lot for your teenage self and it seemed like this week would never end. It partly felt like everyone was out to get you but you were really just having a bad week and in the back of your mind, you hoped that the next would be better...yet you didn’t even want to think that far ahead. As of a few hours ago you were allowing your self to sit in your funk of your Crenshaw home until Chris barged in making himself at home.

Working in retail felt emotionally and mentally abusive but hey, you needed money to get by right? You were tempted to quit after a month of being there but your mother persuaded you to toughen it out and not let them get to you. ‘Or maybe it was easier for her to say so, so that you wouldn’t be coming to her as much for some cash.’ You bitterly thought.

On top of that, you were getting hours in over time since there were three situations going on with your co-workers. One: was fired due to stealing money from the safe in the stock room, since one of the assistant managers didn’t fully close it, two: got arrested for god knows what— you didn’t care for the drama but it was common knowledge Julio’s ass was gone, and third: got injured on the job and would be out for 6 months. So the work load fell on the remaining three. Only 6 employees in retail...make it make sense. Not only that the customers were more whiny and quick to point the finger than usual and it takes a lot for you to step out of character! but you did.

You had it. So you went into a screaming match, which wasn’t expected of you but it happened. The store manager did not have your back and blamed you in front of the customer since, “the customer is always right,” motto was heavily encouraged and a part of you HOPED he was just doing that for show and would apologize later but nope! He stood by wtf he said and put you on punishment when it was clear that the customer was not right.

So instead of sending you home and keeping you away from the place? He decided to give you more hours as if you’re the only one working there + kept you off the register so you could only interact with those on the floor. If he expected you to come in for five days straight while being a high school student? He was out of his damn mind. So you called out the three of the five days you were supposed to be there and didn’t care for his guilt trips. You deserved better and didn’t need to deal with this bs for only $11.11 an hour. You hoped he fired you.

Since you were working so much prior to the screaming match with that aggy customer, you were falling behind on your studies. Those pop quizzes came back as c+ to c- and your exams? Even lower. You were turning in homework half assed or not turning it in at all and normally you were a decent student with a B average. You weren’t overly thrilled about school but you did your best and did just fine at that.

You never saw yourself as someone who would go to college. Your mom or your step-dad didnt go and it was expected that you wouldn’t because of your background. Wasn’t that a shame? Crenshaw high could do a lot better at getting kids prepared for bettering their futures but they just wouldn’t put the time in to kids that wanted it or could accomplish it if they just had the right guidance.

It was really depressing and it was all starting to sink in at the end of your junior year of high school. You couldn’t just give up but you were having one of those days and wanted to be left alone. Which was partly what you had in your condominium complex with your step-sibs staying behind to attend after school activities with you having to pick them up from the bus stop by 5:15, your mother was working the night shift as a waitress, and your step-dad was away on “business.”

The quiet was interrupted by Chris making his way into your living room with you all curled up. He took one look at you and shook his head, “Nuh-uh, get up ya ass up, girl. You’ve been like this for what? Days now?”

Giving him the side eye, you rolled your body on the couch to put your back to him as you went to bury your head into the open s peace between the couch and cushion. “If you came here to start with me, you can leave the same way you came in.”

You were used to Chris getting into your house. You did lock your doors around here but Chris was surprisingly good at getting through things which related a lot to his life I guess you could say. The guy overcame a lot especially learning how to walk again after almost being paralyzed. You and Chris grew up together, and were actually friends first before Spencer, Coop, and Shawn came into the picture. Your mother’s were the best of friends and got pregnant around the same time, with Chris being only a few months older than you, which he likes to rub in to get on your nerves.

“And you can keep that stank ass attitude to yourself, get up mama this ain’t no way to be.” You could feel the weight of Chris sitting on the couch behind you.

He was now poking you, probably trying to find your ticklish spot but if you start swinging then you’re the bad guy right?

Chris knew you like the back of his hand and vice versa. He knew all about how your week was going and how you’ve been skipping class to do whatever it is that you do, since you did have one class together.

“Alright look, when I was away—

He always considered his recovery as, “away,” almost as if it pained him to say that, which you understood by all means, but Chris could just call it what it was. He was strong, he made it through but you noticed in the way he played now was more cautious. He was in his head which was common with sports injuries apparently. You noticed with Spencer he would normally react after the stress of the game or something that brought on the stress. He also probably thought you had no clue what was going on with him, but he was also one of your besties so of course you knew. You just never said anything.

Now it was you who was going through a little something and needed someone to bring you out of it, whether you said it or not. And here Chris was. As always.

“You know I was a completely different person—

“Yeah, you were a fresh asshole.” You commented, remembering those moments quite clearly since it was you and Olivia who tried to be there. He only seemed to let you be there, especially after he broke up with Olivia over text. Which you laid into his ass about.

Which made Chris breathe out a laugh pressing his elbows into his knees, “you’re not wrong. And I’m forever sorry about that but you knew I was going through some dark shit. And I can see you’re partly there but you don’t need to sit in it.”

“Okay, Iyanla. What would you like for me to do?” You asked twisting your body to the side to finally look at the mocha skinned boy.

Chris smiled with his pretty teeth, “maybe take a shower? ‘Cause this bum energy I’m getting from you right now is not cute and I know underneath all that, you’re not half bad.”

A foot went out to kick him pretty hard but he tried and failed to doge it with a laugh. “Nah. But for real though, you got to find something that’s gonna keep you sane. Find something even if it’s not permanent that’ll keep your mind active and out of the dark, cause once you completely slip into it, it’s hard to get out of. Trust me.”

You knew Chris was on anti-depressants for a little while and how he called you flipping out that his mother even agreed that it would be a good idea. In the black community it was not a common thing to speak about your mental health, it was non-existent and you were expected to “get over it,” to not think like that because we are made to be tougher than what we are and it shouldn’t be like that. We should be able to feel our emotions and admit when something is troubling us.

And Chris’ mother thought that was what was best for her son. And you saw how vile of a person Chris became when he thought everything was over for him. That was not the Chris Jackson you knew, he was headstrong, compassionate when he wanted to be, and ambitious. So to see him like that was hard.

So here he was for you even though your emotions right now probably wasn’t that deep but again, you were trying to be more in touch with your emotions. Both of the adults in your life were slightly cold so it rubbed off on you a little bit of course, until it was brought out of you. Your father was the most loving and as a kid you used to be that way, with a warm prescence and a belly full of laughter. Now you were full of small smiles and cold stares.

However your main friends: Chris, Spencer, Coop, and even Shawn know/knew who you are even if you’re different now.

You don’t know how long you sat in silence but once Chris started to annoyingly snap his fingers in front of your face, You snapped out of it and smacked his hand down; slowly you sat up on your uncomfortable couch and took a deep inhale.

Then you moved through the cramped apartment to your bedroom and bathroom grabbing a few things. When you came back Chris was also entering from the kitchen with two plastic cups, eyeing the items in your hand. “What’s going on with that?”

You plopped the large pillow in front of the couch, held your hand out for the cup which Chris handed over, and you took a large gulp to taste cran-peach. Chris moved to place his own cup on the coaster and went over to the window to crank up the A/C before he glanced back over at you still awaiting a answer.

“You’re telling me to find my peace? I’ve always wanted to be a stylist, so I’m going to perfect my craft.” You answered sitting on the couch with a crack of your neck.

Chris thought this over and blew out a raspberry. Then he moved to sit in between your legs on the floor, “Alright, y/n. I’ll be your first client. But I’m tellin’ you right now if you braid too tight where my edges look eaten, I’m out the door.”

A smile graced your lips as Chris grabbed his cup and remote to turn the tv on, “so what we watching to keep me entertained?”

Shrugging your shoulders you held the rat tail comb in your hand while using the other to run your fingers through Chris’ coarse hair that he was deciding to grow out. Chris got himself comfortable resting against your legs as you decided which side of the head you wanted to start on first before you began parting and sectioning off his hair.

You were going to give him some cornrows so you had to make sure everything was even and not look crazy. You were decent at braiding, you often did your step-sis’ hair since your mother no longer had time to do it and she sure did have a lot of hair. It gave you some sense of satisfaction, you taking on the older sibling role and gave you the time to bond.

Chris finally found something after twenty minutes and was yelling at the tv which made you mess up the grip on the fourth row. “If you don’t stop moving and let me braid your hair...hold your head right or I’m gonna pop you!” You threatened.

“This is triggering me back to my aunties, specifically aunt Henrietta’s ol’ mean ass.” Chris mumbled the last bit as he flinched making you laugh a little bit, remembering the name and the picture of the woman with the large mole on her pointy chin.

She lived in Maryland and had a beauty salon that Chris’ mom would always take a trip down there to get their hair done, if they had a special event to go to. It didn’t make sense to you or your mother since there were a few good shops here in Crenshaw or rather—girls and boys that did hair out of their homes around but Mrs. Jackson wanted to support her great aunt so by all means...

You gripped his hair again tight but not too tight to begin the braid, “I’m gonna add beads so everyone around school can call you hurricane chris.”

“...that’s real foul. You’re about to make me not support your dreams anymore, I’m dead serious.” Chris replied making you laugh, which made him smile at the sound.

You briefly glanced up to watch a scene on whatever show or film Chris was watching and raised your eyebrow not knowing what was going on or who these characters were but it was definitely engaging.

Chris nudged your knee with his shoulder after you fell silent again, “feel better?” He asked, moving AGAIN to meet your eyes.

“yeah, a little. Thanks.” You scrunched up your nose and stuck your tongue at him.

After awhile your alarm went off letting you know it was time for you to leave and get ready to get the kiddos. As you both got up, Chris went to the mirror to check out your handiwork while you snapped a few pictures before making your way to the door, taking the keys from the side table as you went.

“Y/N...you said would make me look good.”

“Uh huh?”

“Then tell me why...the hell you got me looking like ODB?” Chris’ deep set brows held a deep frown on them as he glanced at his childhood friend who innocently peered back at him.

You shrugged as you threw the door open, “i never said I’d be the best hair stylist out there, plus you wouldnt stop moving your big ass head. I told you to sit still! And did you listen? Noooooo.”

Chris licked his lips looking down as he folded his hands together before his eyes flicked up, “ok. I’m on your ass!”

You yelped as dashed out the door, laughter in your lungs as Chris chased you down the narrow hallway, hot on your trail.

[argylepiratewd]

2020 (Fanfiction) In Review

Tagged by @vegetarianvampireduck and @branwyn-says

Fics written this year: I, uh...AO3 says I somehow posted 38 fics? 160,990 words. JFC. 34 of those were for Person of Interest, 3 Forever, 2 original work

The ones over 1k words were:

Building Safer Houses - POI, Finch/Reese, 67k. Harold gets stabbed, and John stays with him as he recovers. There’s lots of pining and lots of h/c.

The first fic in the series, Resilience of Birds, is just over 1k, and features the immediate aftermath of the stabbing, where Harold collapses in John’s arms.

in a world that isn’t hers - POI, Finch/Reese/Grace, 26k. Grace gets shot during Beta, and Harold and John whisk her away to a safehouse in the middle of nowhere to heal. I somehow wrote this thing in a week.

Signs of Life - POI, Finch/Reese, 15k. John survives the finale, and lies around in a hospital bed miserably, until Harold shows up. Then he lies around in a hospital bed less miserably. I started this one in 2019 and had a hell of a time getting it to come together properly.

Satisfactory Conclusions, POI, Finch/Reese, 5.9k. A/B/O mpreg. Harold gets pregnant by an OC, and the pregnancy is a bit rocky. John loves him very much. Another fic I started back in 2019 and had trouble with.

Set the World Down, POI, Finch/Reese, 4.7k. Harold overworks himself. John gives him a nice, brain-melting back rub.

the science of touch, POI, Finch/Reese, 3.8k. NSFW. Harold is not used to being touched. John loves touching him. Harold loves John, so it works out.

Abundance, Original Work, Chubby Male Librarian/Male Book-lover Who Turns Out to be a Belly-Lover Too, 3k. NSFW-ish. Fluffy original chubby/belly kink fic.

potential energy, POI, Finch/Reese, 3k. Literal tech wizard Harold is very very sleepy. John knows the best place for him to be is a nice, comfy bed.

Just Hold on Tighter, POI, Finch/Reese, 3k. Five times John and Harold hugged, and one time they did more. We were CHEATED. They should’ve HUGGED.

heart to heart and hand in hand, POI, Finch/Reese, background Root/Shaw, 2.9k. Post-finale Christmas. Everyone is nursing wounds but is alive. Fluff.

Make a Guy Feel Special, POI, Fusco/Reese, 2.5k. John breaks into Lionel’s apartment and cooks dinner for him. (Writing Fusco is always so much fun. He’s so grumpy. It’s great.)

romance of the maybe undeserving, POI, Finch/Reese, 2k. Harold confesses his feelings. John claims he doesn’t feel the same.

A Worthy Buyer, POI/Forever, Finch/Henry, 1.7k. Harold and Henry meet and like each other immediately. Another fic I started in 2019.

A Snow Globe Life, POI, Finch/Reese, 1.5k. Over a year after Samaritan’s fall, Harold and John celebrate Christmas.

like a complicated line of code, POI, Finch/Reese, 1k. John accidentally reveals his attraction to Harold’s belly. I think this might be another I started in 2019.

and if that hacking bird won’t sing, POI, Finch/Reese, 1k. John can’t sleep. Harold hums him a tune. It’s a bit unconventional.

home for the new year, POI, Finch/Reese, 1k. Harold and John ring in a new year together. Last fic of 2020!

The rest are here!

Takeaways from reflecting on your kick-ass writing, or kick-ass lack of writing, during a year more focused on survival than perhaps any other: Biggest takeaway is that I need to take better care of my wrists. Some of that lesson was learned at work, when I had to type up a ton of subscriber information, but some of it was from unwise writing decisions. Breaks are good. I must take more of them as I write.

Another? I really like hurt/comfort. And fluff. I wrote a lot of fluff and h/c and fluffy h/c in 2020. It felt Necessary.

And fanfic is a really great place to escape to when the world is shitty in a bunch of different ways. I already knew that, but it was reemphasized again and again and again throughout the year. The fact that my escape brought some joy to other people who needed it was an excellent bonus. I really love it when my words bring people happiness. It blows my mind, but I love it.

Most surprising fic you wrote this year: Building Safer Houses. I did not expect to write a fic that long, especially during a trash fire of a year. 67k, wtf? It was not supposed to be that long! I had a lot of fun writing it, though, and I’m really happy with how it turned out.

How you’ve grown as a writer this year: I think I’ve started to figure out what it takes for me to write longfic a bit better, and I’m hoping to change that from writing an ungodly amount of words in a short amount of time to writing an ungodly amount of words in a period of time that does not cause wrist pain in the future.

I’ve also made a lot of progress in the being happy with my own writing department. I’m getting better at writing. I can tell I’m getting better at writing. And I’m getting better at enjoying my own writing. There’s still some “I’m not the right writer for that” going on, still some areas I know I need to improve in, but it’s not as bad as it once was.

What’s coming in 2021: I don’t know! More of the same? I’ve been having a blast writing POI fic. I see no reason not to keep it up. Other than that, I don’t know! I’ve got a few WIPs in my files that I’d like to finish, a few ideas I still want to explore, a prompt in my inbox that I still want to fill, a few exchanges I really want to sign up for...

I’d kind of like to experiment with more pairings, but I also really, really love writing Rinch...so many options!

Also, after rewatching Forever, I really want to revisit the WIP I call The Het Mpreg From Hell or The Het Mpreg of Doom at some point in 2021. I got 150k into that thing. It’d be ridiculous if I never finished it. Will this be the year? Even I don’t know.

And I think I need to, at the very least, seriously consider experimenting with writing using speech-to-text. I’m a really private person and hate the idea of writing my stories out loud, but I need to give it some very serious thought. Eventually.

But I have one more exchange deadline on the horizon, and then I am free to do whatever I want for a while.

Not tagging anyone--feel free to do this if you want!

[damonsbitchx]

Imprinting Pt. 1

I have no idea what to title this but my prompt for this fic is Jacob and Leah ending up together because wtf resume’s a baby???? Prompt is courtesy of @loveless-and-nameless. I hope you like it! I’m going to make a second part.

Summary: This is set after Breaking Dawn p.2 where Jacob lets Leah stay in his pack so she doesn’t have to go to Sam. In this, Leah and Jacob are only two or three years apart in age and they both imprint on each other in this. (That’s my personal touch.)

Characters: Jacob x Leah, and some waitresses 

Warnings: I think there’s one swear word, it’s fluffy and sweet

All mistakes are mine, no one proofread except me many times.

Word count: 3,069

If you want to be added to a tag list send me an ask with your @ 

Likewise, if you have any requests please send them in an ask. I might reject but ask anyway!

       After my dad died it’s no secret that I phased along with my little brother Seth. The pack was not welcoming about it, to say the least, but I didn’t really care. It was bad enough my dad had just died and I was the only girl in the history of EVER to phase, but to make matters worse, I was stuck under the rule of my ex-boyfriend who broke my heart after imprinting on my cousin. I was still bitter, to say the least, so if I had to suffer so did they.

       Jacob made his best effort to be a bit kinder to me than the rest of the pack, especially after he lost Bella to that dirty bloodsucker. He and I disappeared after making sure that they all survived the attack of the goth government. He told me he was going to the mountains of Alaska and I had planned on running as far East as I possibly could. We were definitely more than 300 miles apart but we could still hear each other clear as day when we were phased. As far as I could tell, he never phased back to his human form. Once I made it as far as Wisconsin I tried to stay human as much as possible so he and I could both be alone like the other didn’t exist. It was a very intimate thing to be tied to someone like that, even with all the miles between us physically and mentally. After being able to hear his thoughts all day every day for as long as it took me to get to Wisconsin I sort of started to miss the company when I was human, but I didn’t want to make him regret letting me stay under him instead of Sam so I didn’t out myself. I wandered around cities in Wisconsin looking for purpose, only phasing during the night so I could sleep in the woods somewhere. I’d make sure to only phase when I could barely keep my eyes open anymore and I’d always greet him to let him know I was there. Then, I’d fall fast asleep and phase back the moment I woke up. 

       I’d never tried this hard to be careful about what I thought when I was phased because I always felt like if I had to suffer in my own mind they did too, but it wasn’t just me. They thought horrible things about me from the moment I joined the pack. Sam was always tougher with me than any of the guys. Even Seth, who was smaller, younger, and weaker than all of us got treated better than I did. I didn’t want to just be the second choice anymore, mocked by the people who were supposed to be there for me. I didn’t want to be spoiled leftovers anymore. Jake would sometimes stick up for me and try to get closer to me, but I was closed off to all relationships with people after my father died. Being out here in the middle of nowhere might be making me soft or maybe I’m just realizing I don’t actually want to be alone. Without the voices of the rest of the pack in my head constantly and the faces of the people, my own people, who betrayed me I found peace. I found myself wanting to be closer to Jacob. It was a foreign feeling to me, I hadn’t experienced any need to be in anyone’s company for months. It didn’t matter either, Jacob was on a search for his gravity and I wouldn’t be a leech in his life because he was doing me a solid by just letting me leave Sam’s pack. I wouldn’t mess this one up, not this time.

       One night I slumped against a tree deep in the woods and phased, about to voice my greeting to Jake to let him know I was there but I stopped to listen because he spoke first.

“Leah, I was worried about you. You didn’t phase last night,” he growled.

“Oh, yeah um sorry Jake, I was doing other things. I found a bed to sleep in last night.” 

“With who?”

“Just some rando I met in the park, we hit it off and I figured I’d give you a break.”

I grimaced to myself, I’d forgotten last night happened. I thought it was just a bad dream.

“Oh… well, it takes like two seconds to phase and tell me, don’t let it happen again,” he snapped.

      I let out a small whine, but he didn’t say anything after that. I fell right to sleep. That next morning I woke up with the strange feeling I was being watched. There was no way there were people this far out in the forest. My ears perked up to listen intently.

“Leah?” Jake’s low voice rumbled in my head.

“Yeah?”

“What’s wrong, are you okay?”

“How would he even know if I wasn’t okay?” I wondered to myself, forgetting he could hear me.

“I just got a bad feeling out of nowhere late last night. I started running to Wisconsin to keep myself awake in case you woke up and were in trouble, plus I’d already be at least halfway there if it happened. Where are you? This forest is huge.”

“You’re here?” I growled. I didn’t expect him to be here.

“Well, yeah, I wasn’t gonna run all that way just to turn around after I knew you were okay,” he chuckled.

I heard a twig crack behind me and I leaped up with a yelp, tucking my tail and preparing to charge whatever it was.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya,” he chortled at my surprised reaction, trotting out from behind a thick tree.

“S’okay, I was already on edge. Jake, what are you doing all the way out here?” I grimaced, rising out of my defensive stance, my tail wagging a couple times. He didn’t fail to notice, twitching his ears in response.

“What, the alpha can’t come to visit his only pack member now?”

“Well, no, I just meant why would you want to be out here with me? I thought you wanted me to leave you alone.”

“Look, Leah, I’m here, okay? Don’t make me regret coming, you seemed like you could use it,” he snapped.

“Okay, I’m not, I’m sorry,” I almost whispered, looking down at my foot pawing the ground.

“Do you want me to get you some breakfast?”

“Jake, I-”

“Some human breakfast.”

       I moved my gaze back up to his copper-red face, not quite meeting his eyes. I let out a small whine in sync with the rumble in my stomach. Suddenly, he took off in the opposite direction dashing behind a tree and phasing into his human form. He appeared around the other side in his regular human clothes and gestured for me to do the same. I let out a low growl to which he chuckled in response and raised both his hands level with his face in surrender, turning on his heels and crossing his arms. I rolled my eyes and darted behind a tree out of sight to phase and yank on my human clothes. When I emerged around the other side he was already a few feet away from me, grinning and looking me up and down. Then, he frowned.

“Leah, are you eating enough?” he demanded.

       For a moment his question shocked me. Maybe too much time alone was getting to him, he never paid me this much attention. He barely even talked to me this much before. My words caught in my throat and I stared at him in disbelief. Why did he care? I was glad he couldn’t hear my every thought now.

“That’s not your business,” I snapped, folding my arms across my chest. “Last I checked, I don’t answer to you.”

       He glared at me as if he were trying to crack me, but after a few moments, he shook his head and grabbed my hand. He began pulling me towards the edge of the forest and I didn’t fight him on it because I really was hungry. Besides, he was much bigger than me, I could only do so much.

“If I had known you were this bad at taking basic care of yourself I never would’ve let you go off by yourself,” he growled, glancing down at me. 

I glared at him as we strolled out of the forest and began through the city to find somewhere to eat.

“I can take care of myself just fine, thank you.”

“Clearly not,” he held my hand up and gestured to my entire arm as evidence to back up his opinion. I rolled my eyes again, there was nothing wrong with my arm. Maybe I was just delusional thinking I actually wanted his company, he was more annoying than I remembered. 

       We found a little small-town cafe type place that we went into. Jake was still holding my hand when we went in and a couple waitresses eyed me sourly. I followed their lines of sight down to our hands which were intertwined and immediately I let go, folding my arms across my chest and avoiding their gazes. He didn’t seem to notice, flashing a dazzling grin at the hostess who was now taking us to a window booth. She all but melted right there on the spot. At this point, I was unsure if Jake had any awareness of his effect on any woman besides Bella or if he just didn’t care. We took our seats across from each other while the short brunette hostess proceeded to ask our drink preference.

“We’ll have two waters, please,” he sounded like he was trying too hard to be polite, smiling at her and nodding.

         He redirected his eyes to the menu once she left and I quickly scanned the one in my hands before deciding I’d want some pancakes and eggs. I slapped the menu shut and set it on the edge of the table, taking a moment to look around the place and take in every old-fashioned, dusty element of this little cafe. The paneled walls were off white and decorated with various framed photos of old white people usually standing with a big red barn in the background or posed with their family outside in a field. It reminded me of my family’s house back in La Push. All the chairs had metal frames and black leather-looking covers. The floor had a wood grain pattern, but I couldn’t tell if it was real or not. There were a few old couples scattered around the rest of the cafe, but other than them, us, and the staff the place was a ghost town inside and out. A few moments after I decided to let my eyes wander they made their way back to Jacob only to realize he was watching me. I frowned. 

“What are you looking at, punk?” I teased but held a serious expression on my face.

“Nothing,” he chuckled. “You just look sort of like a kid in a candy store.”

“Hey, don’t make fun of me Jacob Black. I’m older than you,” I growled.

       He rolled his eyes at me. It was true, I was older than Jacob even though it didn’t look like it. I vaguely remember when he was born because I was around three years old. I watched him grow up, he and Seth played together often and Bella would join too, up until she stopped coming up to her Dad’s all together. We would all three or four run around down on the beach even though it was much too cold to be near the water. Bella liked to find cool rocks and Jacob liked to throw rocks at her. He threw them at me too, but I’d threaten to beat him up if he didn’t stop so he did. Seth and Jacob liked to collect bugs and bring ‘em back to Billy, mom, and dad. Mom would always scream at them to keep the bugs outside where they belonged and the boys got a kick out of her hysteria. They would also chase Bella around with them because it made her scream and run. Eventually, though, she started smacking them instead of running so they stopped that too. I huffed and smiled mostly to myself at the memories that came like a flood in my mind. I had forgotten a lot of my history with Jacob. 

       Suddenly, pulling me out of my daydream, Jacob cleared his throat. My drifted gaze snapped to him with a glare and he jerked his head to alert me that the waitress was almost here. My expression softened and I shifted my eyes away from him embarrassedly. The waitress approached our table, barely glancing at me, settling her eyes on Jacob. She wore a shining smile and she asked him what she could get for him. He proceeded to rattle off this long order of foods I paid no attention to while she scribbled furiously and shoved in her clarifying questions whenever she could. It was kind of funny. I snorted to myself watching her struggle to keep up with him. Finally, when he had finished she turned to me with another sour look.

“And for you?” she asked, breathlessly and with a lot less politeness than before. 

“Pancakes and scrambled eggs please,” I said, slapping the menus into her hand when she reached and watched her walk away. 

       She definitely ran to tell the other waitress what had just happened. Their fawning made me chuckle to myself. Jacob would never notice them the way they noticed him. It was a lost cause. I met Jacob’s gaze and he looked annoyed with me again. I rolled my eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I huffed, pouting out the window.

“Leah, you literally ordered two pancakes and two eggs, you can’t live off of that,” he hissed. 

“Jacob, I know how to take care of myself,” I hissed back at him. This was starting to get very annoying.

“Leah, I’m just worried about you,” he sighed, reaching for my hand across the table. I yanked it from his reach and stared at him with wild anger now burning in my face. Why was he suddenly being so nice to me? 

       I locked eyes with him and suddenly my breath was knocked from my chest. My eyes grew wide and I froze. Suddenly, every memory I’d ever made with Jacob raced through my mind like adrenaline in my veins. I felt my lungs fill and deflate with air, somehow knowing each breath now had a purpose bigger than just myself. His expression changed too, I wondered if he was feeling what I felt. I was suddenly more grounded. My hand gravitated towards his still stretched out across the table, grabbing it firmly in mine. I felt the weight of all my troubles seemingly lift off my shoulders, my mind became clear, my heart was beating with more enthusiasm. My hand buried in his began to feel hotter than the rest of my body if that was even possible with my already abnormal body temperature. His Amber eyes seemed to see into my soul, he squeezed my hand endearingly, matching my gaze. Our breathing was in sync now and both our jaws fell open ever-so-slightly as we stared into each other’s eyes. Why had I never noticed him like this before in all my years of knowing him? It was like the electricity was pulsing between him and me, connecting through our intertwined hands. He was like a cool summer breeze basking under the warm sun on the beach. He was suddenly laughter and cookouts, breakfast on the back porch overlooking the ocean, and picnics on top of a mountain. I could see in him everything I’d ever dreamed of having. Sitting here with him, our hands melting into each other becoming a uniform stream of energy and life, I knew I’d found exactly what I wanted. I could only hope he’d feel the same.

        We both snapped suddenly back into reality when we realized the waitress had returned with our food. “That was fast,” I thought to myself, wondering how long we’d been sitting like that. I yanked my hand out of the way, staring down at my hands now curled in my lap under the table and I began biting my lip nervously. What the fuck just happened? 

       I listened to Jacob talk to the waitress but paid no attention to what he was saying, I couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of his voice that seemed to command the swarm of butterflies in my stomach. He cleared his throat a minute or two after she left when I still hadn’t moved.

“Leah?” his voice was soft now, almost resembling the kid in him.

       My stomach flipped at the sound. I took a deep breath and forced my eyes up to meet his. He looked petrified with anxiety, so my hand instinctively shot out to silently ask for his again before I could even process his expression. My eyes grew wide at my actions but softened when he took it with a smile. My face dropped into a relieved smile in response and I squeezed his hand reassuringly. Whatever this was, I could get used to it. He held onto my hand all through breakfast, not letting go one time and I wasn’t about to make the first move either. I was content at that moment. By the time I’d finished my measly little two pancakes and two eggs, he had also devoured his entire three meals worth of food and the waitress had given us our ticket. I didn’t even question where he got money from, it seemed like something I didn’t want to know. Besides, I was too busy soaking up this new side of Jacob I’d been given. I didn’t even notice the waitresses anymore though I was sure they were whispering about us and exchanging dirty looks. So, we got up, paid, and left even though we didn’t know where we were going. He still had my hand firmly locked in his grip as he led me back towards the forest.

[moirai-au]

16 with Henrik and Chase :3

Timeline: beginning of Arc 5: The Orator

Warning: this is Davil (dave x cecil). there are mentions of nsfw stuff, implied self-harm, and maybe a mention of homophobia??? but other than that it’s clean.

it was supposed to be a short and fluffy thing, but it turned into this absolute monster wtf. but you already know this tabby, my partner in crime! love ya

(if anyone wants to read the longer, nsfw version of this, head right over here)

“Mars almost lit the kitchen on fire again.”

Cecil blinked and turned to look at David; the other wasn’t looking at him, eyes set on the diminishing pile of clean laundry between them. His movements were swift and precise, folding the clothes and beddings with practised care, like he’d done it a million times before.

Which he probably had, being a father and all.

“Is that so?” Cecil mumbled, eyeing the black button-up shirt in his hands. Probably Mars’, he though. He hadn’t worn one of those in a long time, verdammt. How did they fold again?

“Yeaaah. I’m really starting to consider giving him cooking lessons.” Dave chuckled, his voice echoing slightly in the small room. “I swear this kid could burn water if we left him unsupervised.”

The doctor only hummed in response, trying not to get caught on the way Chase’s hands moved with rhythmic intent, or the way theauburn bangs peeking out from under his snapback made the blue of his eyes pop, or-

Nein.

His low hum died in his throat as he swallowed, painfully aware of the strangled sound that had escaped him, trying his very best to shake it off. He was almost scared to look up and risk making eye contact with Dave, to be confronted about what he knew was such a meaningless non-problem that it shouldn’t even be crossing his mind…

He bit his tongue, setting down the shirt he’d been holding idly for seconds, a small sigh escaping his lips.

They kept going as if nothing had changed.

Had it?

“I wish you the very best of luck,” Cecil muttered, picking up another article of clothing. “You should have seen the mess he created when attempting to bake me a Father’s Day cake when he was five…”

“Oh?” Dave asked, clearly intrigued. “Was it any good?”

Despite the unwelcome warmth and tingles spreading through his veins, Cecil let out a mirth-filled huff of laughter. “After I scraped what was left of it from the ceiling, it was… adequate. Certainly not winning any awards.”

David seemed to find Cecil’s response humorous, judging by the way his eyes lit up with mirth. He chuckled lightly, and the doctor felt his breath hitch at the sound. “Well,” the father said, “it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Cecil nodded distractedly, eyes trailing back to the lump of fabric in his hands, and cringed; the folding was all wrong. Scheiße. How was he supposed to focus with the other man babbling away next to him, the space between them so thin he could almost feel his warmth through his sweater vest-

“Um, Doc? Helloooo, Earth to Cecil, you with me?”

He tensed up, jaw tightening; He felt on edge, restless, filled with confusion and annoyance and something else that made his insides twist in the most peculiar way.

Dave leaned forward, catching Cecil’s stiff expression. His brow furrowed in concern; was the doc mad at him? It wouldn’t be out of character for him, David always seemed to get on his nerves for some reason, but still…

He looked down and spotted the black button-up balled up in the doctor’s clenched fists. “Oh, are you having trouble with that shirt?” he tried, treading carefully. He reached out, his hand brushing up against the German’s as he tried to grab the fabric. “Here, l can-”

Cecil flinched at the sudden contact, a sharp intake of air resonating in the room. Dave did a double-take, worry squeezing his chest at the other’s tight expression. “Ceec? Shit, are you hurt or something?”

“I am fine.” the German hissed at him, folding the black shirt frantically and messily. “I know how to fold a shirt, David. Mars was never good at taking care of his own things.”

“That’s not- I don’t care about the damn shirt! For fuck’s sake, right now the only thing I’m worried about is you!”

The doctor clenched his jaw, not responding and stubbornly keeping his eyes on the folding table. He wasn’t in the mood for this. He didn’t want to discuss this.

Problem was, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to out himself right there, right now, with Dave hovering so close he could almost feel his breath on his cheek…

The father shook his head. “You’ve been out of it all morning- c'mon Doc, for me?”

“No.”

“For you?”

”No.”

“Will you just tell me what’s wrong?”

"No! Nothing is wrong, I am okay.”

"Oh for the love of- stop telling me you’re okay! I’m here for you if you-”

That’s when Cecil snapped.

“How do you keep doing that?” he hissed between clenched teeth, suddenly turning around to take a step closer to Dave. The younger man’s eyes widened in surprise, taking a step back as the older man advanced on him; and ended up with his back flush against the wall. His expression was the textbook definition of oh god what did I do. “C-Cecil?”

“Why do I become such a mess everytime you speak to me?” the German accused, his voice seemingly on the edge of breaking.

That must’ve been the moment his brain decided to stop working, because the next thing he knew his lips were on Dave’s, his hands squeezing the other’s shoulders for dear life. The coil of anxiety in his stomach, instead of loosening up like he’s expected it to, was only getting tighter and tighter with each passing moment. He felt lightheaded, the chills coursing through his body colliding with the growing heat in his belly, the lightest touch from the younger man lighting a fire under his skin.

He barely registered the surprised sound coming from the other man as their faces collided, nor the feeling of warm fingertips tentatively settling on the side of his face, or the fact that the other was tilting his head to deepen Cecil’s clumsy kiss.

I want this I don’t want this

I want to hold you I want to run away

His body started trembling under the onslaught of conflicting emotions, and he let out a choked sob; he had no idea what he was doing, everything was slipping out of his control and it felt like tethering at the edge of a cliff, the smallest breeze threatening to push him over.

Gott, he hadn’t realized how starved he was for human contact. When was the last time anyone had touched him so gently?

At this moment, Cecil wanted so, so much. So much to say, to feel, to run his hands through that annoyingly messy hair and pull the other man flush against him and let him in give him everything he was and ever will be please please please something anything-

“Ceec? Cecil, jesus, are you okay?”

The doctor gasped, unaware that he had been holding his breath this whole time. He blinked back into awareness and found Dave staring at him with this soft, concerned expression of his, which only made Cecil’s heart ache more intensely. “I-” he started, only to devolve into a sudden coughing fit; his throat had seized up, making his voice come up in a broken croak.

“S’okay,” Dave whispered, running his hand up and down his arm in a comforting gesture, “It’s okay Doc. Take your time.”

The cap-wearing man moved his other hand to gently brush his thumb against Cecil’s cheek; it came back wet, to the doctor’s surprise and following mortification. Surely he wasn’t that desperate!

Was he?

He groaned and rubbed at his own face, wiping the tears away as he tried to gain a semblance of decorum back. “I… apologize. I don’t know- I’m not… usually like this.”

“Like what? Human?”

Cecil blinked; David was smiling up at him, his cerulean eyes crinkled up in amusement. “I’m not gonna get offended by you showing emotion, you doof. Do you need to sit down?”

He nodded, a shiver running through his spine when Dave grasped his hand to lead him out of the room, the unfinished pile of laundry left behind and forgotten.

***

“So. You have feelings.”

An eyeroll. “Hilarious. But yes.”

“Feelings for me.”

A nod.

“Romantic ones?”

“Among… other types, yes.”

They had moved into the living room, both of them sitting across each other on the plush red couch. Dave had kept a respectful distance between them, which Cecil wasn’t sure whether he hated or found comfort in.

The dad plopped his elbows on his crossed legs, resting his head in his hands. “I like the sound of that.” he winked, making Cecil groan in irritation. Why, out of all people, did he have to fall for such an aggravating little-

“But seriously though, you looked really freaked out back there. Did I do something wrong?”

Cecil lost his trail of thought; Dave’s tone had lost that teasing edge, and he was looking at him with genuine concern. The German took a deep breath, fighting off the anxiety swelling in his chest; guess there was no point in hiding it now, was there?

“I was… overwhelmed.” he began, scanning the other’s body language. Dave only nodded, silently prompting him to keep going. So he did.

“I had never really… felt for someone that way before. Not this strongly.”

“But weren’t you married once? That’s what you told us anyway.”

He shook his head. “Irrelevant. Vanessa and I- we wed out of convenience. And because it seemed like the most logical action to take at the time.”

“Waddaya mean?”

Cecil pursed his lips; this conversation was making him re-live a part of his life best buried in his subconscious, away from the surface. He took a moment to center himself, focusing on the way the couch felt under his fingers. And when he spoke again, his words came a lot easier.

“In my teenage years, I felt… alienated.” he continued. “Other boys my age were eloping left and right, while I just didn’t see the appeal.”

He folded his arms on his lap, rubbing them absentmindedly. “When I met Vanessa, we… clicked. Intellectually anyway. We agreed on a lot of things, and she ended up confessing to me.”

He rubbed his neck, grimacing slightly. “I was young and foolish. I thought that maybe this could work. We got along well, we shared common interests, and marrying her would allow me to get a US citizenship, which I’d been wanting for a while. I thought we could be happy, even without the more… physical aspect of a relationship.”

He sighed. “But… in the end, she wanted more out of this than I did. Things I couldn’t give her. So she grew bored.”

He hadn’t realised he had started trembling until he felt Dave grasp his hand, running his fingers along the palm and back. He didn’t try to pry it away, letting the soothing motions ground him again. “And-” he breathed out, voice strained and unsteady. He cleared his throat. “And even though I never loved her, I still cared for her. So when she left, I- it hurt. A lot. I thought ‘this is it. I’m the problem. Something’s wrong with me, I’m incapable of loving someone, so it makes sense than no-one could love me either’ ”

“Ceec, I-”

“So I shut down.” Cecil kept going, words tumbling faster and faster out of his mouth. He could no longer stop them, nor did he want to. “I became cold. Bitter. Angry. Gott, I was so angry, mostly at myself. I lashed out at my colleagues, I lashed out at my patients- that’s how I lost my medical license in case you were wondering, because why not get that truth out of the way as well, right?!”

He took a shuddering breath, grabbing the side of his face. It was wet again. He could feel the looming threat of a panic attack. “Everything fell apart around me. I was a broken mess, merely a shell of my former self- that’s why I could barely stand to look at you the first few days you spent here, it was like looking into a mirror-”

“Doc!”

“I’m sorry!” he cried out, curling into himself and burying his face in his arms. I am the worst kind of person. Dave stared in shock as Cecil devolved into full-blown, nearly silent sobs, choking out half-formed apologies; this wasn’t how he expected his day to go.

It had all started to normally: wake up, take his meds, have breakfast with the doc and Mars -if the kid hadn’t stayed up all night practising his magic again- and greet Ollie as he climbed in through the window with a fond hair ruffle, laugh as Cecil chastised him for “not using the door like a normal person”, help out Mars with his plants, look up jobs and schools, get a snarky remark from Cecil here and there…

Huh. He now realized the doctor hadn’t said much at all today. Hell, he’d been borderline cordial to him since this morning, if a bit… low. Careful. Like he was treading on thin ice.

Which, in hindsight, should’ve ticked David off as to what was going on.

Eyes going soft, the dad scooted over to Cecil, hands hovering just above the doctor’s shoulders. “Ceec… I’m going to touch you now, yeah? Tell me if that’s okay.”

The older man took a trembling breath, his thin frame still wracked with sobs, and nodded. Dave let out a relieved sigh and gently set his hands on the older man’s blue sweater vest, slowly moving them up and down his arms in a soothing pattern. “Cecil? I’m not mad at you. I don’t blame you for anything. I… get it. Really, I do. So don’t beat yourself up too much about our early days, okay? Look at me.”

He delicately grabbed the older man’s face, encouraging him to raise his head back up; he gave in after a few seconds, meeting Dave’s gaze with his own. 

The dad smiled at him, his expression radiating something Cecil hadn’t seen directed at him in a really long time.

Honesty. Warmth. Kindness.

“There you are,” Dave said softly, “There you are. If it makes you feel better… I forgive you. Even if I don’t think there’s not much to forgive in the first place.”

He hummed, tucking a strand of brown and grey hair behind Cecil’s ear. “And I like you too. A lot. I just assumed you weren’t interested, so I never said anything. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable…”

Cecil’s breathing slowed as he took in the words, mind switching into autopilot. He closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of Dave’s hands against the fabric of his clothes. The faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen nearby. The lingering smell of chamomile tea David had brewed not long ago.

Breathe. Five seconds. Hold. Seven. Exhale. Eight.

When he opened his eyes again, he felt… more or less in control. He wiped his face on his sleeve with a quick swipe, eyes red and puffy, but sharp once more. “…Thank you.” he grunted, voice hoarse and thick with leftover emotion. “I’m okay.”

The father raised an eyebrow, disbelieving. “…Okay-ish.” the older man relented, rolling his eyes. “How is that?”

Dave shrugged. “Acceptable. Can I hug you?”

“You may.”

The younger man didn’t waste another second, wrapping his arms around Cecil and pulling him into a tight embrace. The doctor stiffened slightly, still unused to so much human contact in one setting, but soon relaxed into the soft, strong body enveloping him. His hands tentatively crept up Dave’s back as his eyes fluttered closed, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He basked in the feeling for a little while, his skin tingling in the spots David brushed against, while the other buried his face in his hair.

Cecil eventually let go, patting on Dave’s arm to make him release his hold. They pulled away, almost regretfully, and the dad smiled down at the doc. “How was that?”

“…Acceptable.”

Dave laughed. “Okay, I deserved that one. Sorry you had to relive all… that.”

Cecil shook his head, sighing. “It was… a long time ago. It shouldn’t affect me that much still…”

"You shut down and buried it for years, I think I can cut you some slack for not having processed it properly yet.”

"Hmm. I never thought about it that way.”

The dad waved noncommittally. “Eeeh. Been there. I know my way around trauma by now. So, you’ve never… you know…”

"No. I never desired women that way.”

"Yeah? How about guys?”

"I never thought about it. Never considered that I could be-”

"Gay?”

Cecil suppressed a wince, pushing down the unpleasant memories this word tended to bring up in him. “…Yes.”

“Well… do you have any gay cousins?” David asked, tilting his head to the side. The other just stared, failing to see how this was relevant. “No?”

The dad smirked. “And that,” he said, poking at Cecil’s chest playfully, “was your first clue. in this world, you either have a gay cousin, or you are the gay cousin.”

The doctor gaped. Then he let out an undignified snort, amazed at the nonsense Dave could spin on the fly. “That doesn’t sound very scientifically sound. Besides, I don’t know if it applies to me, considering I never felt any attraction to any man before you.”

“Aww.”

“Shut up. And stop making that face, it makes me want to punch it.”

“Kinky. But for real, there’s nothing wrong with the way you felt back then, you know that, right? You could just be ace.”

Cecil hummed. “I do know about asexuality and aromanticism. But by the time I learned of the concepts, I had stopped caring about labeling myself altogether.”

He looked up at Dave, eyes lingering on the gentle curves of his body. He gulped, lingering heat pooling in his stomach. “And… recent evidence suggests that I’m definitely not those.”

“So you got the hots for me, got it.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” Dave chuckled. “But that’s okay too, y’know? Maybe you like men, maybe it’s just me. Maybe you’ve changed, maybe it’s always been this way. Maybe you’re demi, it fits what you told me at least.” he shrugged. “But who gives a shit, right? I know labels are important to a lot of people, they can be super helpful. But if you don’t care about them, that’s fine. You don’t need them if you don’t want them.”

Cecil processed the other’s words, the gentle yet determined tone soothing more and more of his worries. He offered the younger man an appreciative smile. “I suppose so.”

“Although… do you still want this?” Dave asked softly. “D’you still want, y’know… me?”

Cecil stayed silent for a few seconds, parsing the sensation, David’s earnest voice, his expression. “…Yes,” he realized, “Very much so. You?”

“God yes,” the other man breathed out, hands looping around Cecil’s middle with surprising gentleness. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this for?”

The doctor shook his head, eyes wide. Dave smiled. “Dude, I’ve been pining after you since the day we met.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am so serious. I mean, I didn’t realize I was until we visited Liz and the kids last week, but yeah. Though to be fair,” he continued, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, “At first it was purely… y’know, physical. A ‘oh no he’s hot’ kinda thing. And I liked the banter, a lot. But I think I really, really fell for you when- I think it was a few days after Marv went all supernova on us. Right before Ollie finally came back.”

He reached out, brushing his hand against Cecil’s. He looked wistful. “T’was the first time I heard you say you were sorry. About being an asshole.”

“Hey!”

“What? You were,” Dave laughed, “still kinda are. That’s okay though, you’re our asshole now.”

He sobered up, planting his gaze in Cecil’s eyes with rare intensity. “But seriously. You looked so earnest. I looked at you, and saw you. Really saw you. The version of you that you hide under all that snark and- and ‘oh look at me, I’m a genius slash doctor slash better than everybody else here’…”

“I do not sound like that.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” the former vlogger rolled his eyes playfully. “Still. That uh, that was the moment that did me in, y’know?”

cecil was stunned- he could’ve hit himself. For a man of his genius, he was apparently blind when it came to those things. “I’m a dummkopf, aren’t I.”

David nodded, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “Yeah. But I kinda like that about you. When you drop the whole ‘cold-hearted science man’ thing and get all confused and clueless. It’s cute.”

The older man felt his ears heat up, resisting the urge to look away. “Don’t call me that.” he grumbled. “That’s not- I’m not-”

“How about you?”

Cecil stopped his muttering, focusing back on the other man. “I’m sorry?”

“You know, like… you being into me. When did that happen?”

Oh.

Cecil looked down, absentmindedly rubbing his calloused hands together as he pondered. This deserved a proper answer. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the memories wash over him. Phantom images and words passed through his mind as he tried to pinpoint that moment.

“When Ollie came back,” he finally said, “After the whole… debacle.”

Dave made an oof sound. “You mean when he and Mars had an argument, and Ollie disappeared for weeks and spiraled into repressed anger until he almost killed a guy while Mars shut himself away and made the whole house float?”

Cecil groaned; those weeks had been rough on everyone, but he still remembered running himself ragged trying to keep everyone in the mansion from falling apart at the seams. “Yes, that. I wasn’t… present when the situation was sorted out, but Marvin told me how you successfully calmed him down.”

Dave nodded. “Yeah, the whole thing was insane. I still can’t believe you trusted me to go to him at that moment. Then again,” he smirked, “you were pretty concussed. Mars’ a great kid, but he’s got issues.”

“I know.”

“He needs therapy. AND better parents.”

“I know. That’s… kind of related to what I’m trying to tell you here.”

The younger man blinked. “What? Oh, oh, are you finally gonna adopt him?”

Cecil gaped, cheeks flushing in surprised embarrassment. “Was?!”

“I mean,” the other continued, seemingly oblivious to Cecil’s state of unrest, “I already heard him slip up and call you dad once, so I figured-”

“NEIN! Nein, Gott, that’s not what I mean!” the doctor sputtered, hands gesticulating wildly. “Can you just- let me explain? Please?”

David laughed, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just teasing ya. That was way too good to pass up. But okay, I’ll shut up now, go ahead.”

Cecil spat out something in his native tongue that Dave didn’t quite catch, then cleared his throat. “Anyway. After all… that, when Oliver eventually came back, and I found him, you and Mars together in the living room…”

Dave’s eyes widened, leaning forward to show he was back to taking Cecil’s words seriously; he knew where he was going with this. He remembered holding the two in his arms, their exhausted sobs still resonating in his ears. Their quivering, trembling hands grabbing his clothes with desperate strength, his shirt growing damp from all the tears they shed.

“When they were at their lowest, when I proved unable to help… you were there for them.” Cecil continued. “They relied on you. Trusted you. And you told them it was alright, that they didn’t have to go through their struggles alone anymore.”

He chuckled, the sound jarring and unfamiliar coming from him. “I can only guess that’s when I started to… feel for you, one might say.”

“Wow.”

“Yes. I admitted it earlier, but before this moment, my opinion of you was somewhat different.”

Dave raised an eyebrow. “You thought I was an alcoholic bum, a neglectful father and a bad influence on Mars.”

Cecil cringed at that. “… Not the words I would’ve used, but I guess that is accurate.”

“It’s fine,” the younger man shrugged, “not like it was that far from the truth.”

The German shook his head, the heat progressing down his cheeks. “That’s irrelevant. I’m still sorry I thought so little of you, and hurt your feelings. A few times.”

Dave gasped in pretend shock, his face splitting into a huge grin. “Oh my! Three apologies in the same week? Who are you and what have you done with Dr. Edelheim?”

“Ha-ha,” Cecil rolled his eyes, “very funny. I am being serious.”

“And so am I when I tell you I forgive you. Hell, I wasn’t even mad at you in the first place.”

The doctor opened his mouth, ready to protest once more, but Dave beat him to it with a much more inviting prospect.

“Can I kiss you?”

Cecil’s words died on his tongue, the man taken aback by Dave’s sudden query. “Sorry,” the dad continued, “you just have that look on your face and- I think I’ll go insane if I don’t smother you in affection. Right now.”

The doctor observed David’s face, taking in his words; the man’s eyes were blown wide, shiny with something akin to desire. He was biting on his bottom lip idly, waiting expectantly for Cecil’s response, but searching for any sign of fear or discomfort in the older man.

“…Bedroom.” he blurted out.

“What?”

He flushed; that came out wrong. “I mean- What I meant to say is-” he sputtered, pausing to gain some composure back. “We shouldn’t- do this here. Talking. About things. Feelings. In the middle of the living room, where someone could walk in.”

He grimaced. “Like Aster.”

Dave’s face twisted, nearly perfectly mirroring the other’s expression. “Yeaaah, we def’ don’t want that happening. We’d never hear the end of it.”

He got up, reaching a hand out to Cecil with a small smile. “We can go to my room if you want to, like… talk. Or make out, or whatever.”

Cecil’s heart skipped a beat, anticipation -for what, he wasn’t sure- making him feel lightheaded. He took Dave’s hand and let him pull him to his feet. “Yes.” he said quietly, squeezing the warm hand in his grasp. Steady. “Let’s talk.”

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

Dear Hannah,

Pairing: technically Destiel, but that’s not what this is about Word Count: 4.9k (wow wtf) Warnings: mentions of self-harm, cancer, shitty father John (as per usual), angst and angst and father-daughter love and angst. Summary: When Dean, strapped to a bed, coughing up a storm, catches sight of his newly-adopted baby girl, he decides that, if he is to leave this world, he has to leave something behind for his favorite person. So he writes a booklet, trying to tell her all the things he would’ve if he was alive. Author’s note: This was originally done for @welldonebeca​ ‘s 2019 Song Challenge but I fucked up thinking the deadline was the 31st of October instead of the 15th. Whatever the case, my prompt was movement, by Hozier, which I interpreted as Dean being fascinated by his daughter enough that he’s inspired to write a letter book to her. Of course this wouldn’t be the entire thing, but I had to keep it under wraps.

Feedback is always welcome! No beta, all mistakes are my own.

~~~~

Hannah,

Christ, it’s the third time I’m starting this. The truth is, I’m coming up with blanks as to how to actually start. This has got to be the best I’ve got.

I’ll tell you the moral of this story, my story,  from the get-go. Life’s a fucking bitch, okay? I want you to know that from now. I’d try to hold back on my swearing, but I want you to know me as the person I am, the person I’ve always been. I know what having an absent, terrible father’s like, as you’ll soon see, and I don’t want that for you. I wish I could tell you all this up close, give you advice, tell you all my crazy-ass stories as the dumbass of the teenager I was, and all the shenanigans your uncle (wow, Sam really is a friggin’ uncle!), by a campfire, while you drink your first beer.

Sadly, my odds aren’t looking so great, honey. So this is all I got. I know it’ll never be enough but something is better than nothing.

Enough with the chick flick introduction, though. Let’s start.

The pen’s heavy in his hand, and it’s equal parts the mental heaviness, the weight of the task, as it is his fatigue. Dean’s really just started this. He can’t believe it. The heaviness of uncertainty, of whether or not he’ll get enough time to finish it settles on his chest like an anvil. There’s a solid chance he doesn’t make it before his time comes.

Hannah’s sitting right there, carelessly looking at the plastic, grinning stars above her crib. She’s so innocent, skin creamy, chocolaty and bright, a young, fearsome woman that’s gonna turn out to be so incredible, he’s certain. A small baby who’s soon to walk.

Dean already knows, this kid is destined for great things.

She’s gonna grow up, past the tutus and the miniature racing-car collections, she’s gonna have a movie she’ll play on repeat for ever and ever, with a song that he’ll learn by heart after having heard it so many times. She’s gonna go to high school and she’ll be bullied but she’ll learn to kick some serious ass. She’ll develop interests, she’ll have mediocre grades but a fiery passion and a love for anything alive.

She’ll, then, go to college. She’ll fall in love, with people and life itself. She’ll do what she loves most and she’ll be so damn good at it, she’ll excel.

And Dean… Dean will be nowhere near her to see all of it.

The bitterness… it makes his eyebrows stitch together, his lip curl in clear frustration and sadness. After everything he’s been through, finally finding the person he loves most and creating a full-ass apple pie life, and it’s all gonna be gone as soon as it started. Because, as he told his favorite Hannah, life’s a fucking bitch, and there’s no denying it.

As he lays there in his bed, pale as a sheet, watching her giggle for a while, reaching for the stars, soon yawning, small eyelids shutting softly and rocking just slightly, he… he falls in love with her. This tiny, tiny happy-beyond-words creature that could ask anything of him, and he’d do it, god damn it. He really would.

A giant bubble grows in his chest, a bubble that makes him feel like he’ll protect her at absolute all costs. He’ll grab the moon and fucking move it if that’s what she needs. And all she has to do is yawn and fall asleep.

A tear appears in the corner of his eye, lingering and falling down his ashy cheek. He can’t believe he brought this bright ray of sunshine to this world, and he’s about to make her live with an absent father. That he won’t get any memories with her at all. It’s torture. All of it.

He doesn’t know what else to do, so he grabs his pen with more determination. If he’s to leave her with something, it’ll be a part of him and that is that.

~~~~~

I was born on January 24th, 1979, the first son of a, dare I say, colossally unlucky family. Your uncle, Sam, my brother, is four years younger and will ALWAYS be a wimp, don’t let the height fool you. He always had terrible, shaggy hair and was always the sharpest tool in the box. Hell, the boy went to freaking LAW SCHOOL of all places! That’s kinda crazy!

My parents, your grandparents, were Mary and John.

Mary was a sweet, incredible, fearsome blonde woman, kindest of them all. She’d cut the crusts off my toast, sing Hey, Jude to me before bed and tell me angels were watching over me. (While we’re on the topic of the Beatles, make a note to listen to them. “Hey, Jude” must be your first song, but beyond the classics [Let it Be, Hard Day’s Night, I Saw Her Standing There, I Wanna Hold your hand etc] I hope “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds” will hold a special spot in your heart, much like me.)

So, Mary. Sweet Mary. She was a real badass, you know. This one time, Sammy was hungry, so I decided to make, get this, French fries. I think I was seven. She caught me getting ready to pour oil in a very hot pan. When I say she swooped in, I mean it, quite literally. I think she saved me a hand that day.

Now, about John…You’ll have to forgive the mess that I’m about to make with this, but John was a fucking sorry excuse of a father, alright? He got piss-drunk every night after Mom died, and naturally, Sam and I were the punching bags, sometimes literally. The best nights were the ones he wasn’t home.

For years, the house was silent. Sam and I tried to keep everything clean, stock up on canned food, because at times we would only have ten bucks to hold us for over two weeks. I took him to school, fed him, made sure he studied –not that I really had to- and kept John of his hair. At sixteen I picked up a shift at Bobby Singer’s garage, a man that, at this point, deserves the Dad title significantly more than John.

Whenever Sammy was sick, it was my fault. Was anyone loud? Dean’s fault. House dirty? Dean’s fault. Did we wake him up? …Let’s just say we learned not to do that.

I tried to put myself before Sam, did anything I could to protect him. There were times when that wasn’t even enough.

I dropped out of high school at seventeen. The second I saved up enough money, I rented a hole of an apartment at the other side of town, in an attempt to help Sam have a normal life, and we hauled ass out of there.

Before I tell you about our shitty apartment, let me tell you about the highlights of my high school career. Starting off with me “unintentionally” kicking a ball at my least favorite teacher’s face (and hitting him) ((Don’t take your father’s example, kid, violence isn’t the answer.)) (Did feel pretty good at the time though), making out with Jenny in the Janitor’s closet and with Arthur at the locker rooms afterhours (I don’t know what age you’re reading this at, but I sure hope it’s over 16). Also, that one time I pulled a prank at my friend, Cole. I spray painted his entire locker. He didn’t like me very much, to be honest…

~~~~~

An important story I feel inclined to share with you, would be the fact that I was once a bully.

Kids are just mean, but also, I couldn’t understand that troubles at home, traumatic pasts and anger are not to be taken out on other people who are not at fault. Instead of finding a healthy way to deal with everything that was happening at home, I decided that every happy person that was weak enough to meddle with, didn’t deserve any happiness.

I picked on a couple of people, but I think the one I will always regret will be Kevin Tran.

Kevin was a freshman when I was in junior year. He was in the Math club, the Science club and the Robotics club. He had maybe two friends, he was skinny, short, shy as hell, he drowned himself in oversized clothes and always carried a neon green book bag around, that worked on me like red cloth to a bull.

Every time I spotted the bag in the hallway, the drill would start. Shoving the poor kid against the locker, calling him names and laughing at his face for no apparent reason. I’d steal his calculators when I found out he had chemistry tests, spray paint the door of his locker and cause rib bruises from my shoving him against walls and furniture.

I soon find out Kevin was severely depressed. In fact, I saw him in the back of the school, where I’d usually go out to smoke because I thought it was cool (it’s not, it makes you light headed, unfocused and struggle to breathe. Just an all-around terrible experience, but this is just a side-note.)

It was a Friday after school. I didn’t wanna go straight home and Sam still had one more period, so I decided to go smoke and listen to some music in the back of the school building. And that’s where I found him.

I don’t know into how much detail I should go here, but Kevin was harming himself. With a small pocket knife, he sat on an old basket and made incisions on his arms, tears running down his face like a faucet. My God, Hannah, I’ve never felt like a bigger piece of shit in my life, because I knew, and I knew very well, that at least part of those incisions were caused by me.

I called out to him, and the look on his face, as he scrambled away from me, made me feel so much worse. I was the scum of the earth at that moment. I was the biggest asshole on the planet.

My initial reaction, I’ll admit, was pretty harsh. I grabbed the pocket knife out of his hands and threw it as far as possible in the grass. I grabbed a small first aid kit I had in my bag (in case anything happens to Sam), made him sit down by force and bandaged him up. He’d been reduced to sniffles by the time I was done.

Somewhere in between, I remember, he asked me why I was doing this. I didn’t answer.

Eventually, when I was done, I sat on the ground in front of him, ripping blades of grass from the ground. I apologized. Something along the lines of “I didn’t know, not that that’s an excuse. What I’m going through is not an excuse, but I hope it makes you understand that it was nothing to do with you. I’ll stop. I’m sorry. Don’t do this to yourself, man.”

That evening, Kevin was one of the very first people who found out about John. His own dad had passed away, and things at home were rough with his mom. That, along with the whole depression thing… it wasn’t a good combo.

After a solid two hours of talking with him, making amends, apologizing profusely and getting my apology accepted (which I absolutely didn’t deserve by the way,) we made it back out front.

From then on, I stopped picking on anyone. Kevin and I actually became really good friends, though we drifted apart eventually. I think he works in Google now.

This is really important. I want you to pay attention and take heed of my words. There are a couple lessons in this story.

One, be kind. Always  be kind. To everyone. It doesn’t matter if they’re going through a rough time or not, the same way it didn’t matter that Kevin’s father was dead. You don’t know the other person. There’s never a reason to not be kind, if the person has done nothing to you. A smile can make somebody’s day, a compliment can go a long way, and being open and honest and kind will make people who are looking for help find you, it will make other’s lives better, and if you’ve helped even a single person, your life has been successful.

Two, never, and I mean never take your emotional pain out on yourself, or others. There are healthy ways to deal with ugly emotions. There are people who can help. Find a new hobby, as silly as it sounds. Start doing something creative, something that draws your attention elsewhere, like art of any kind, or, in my case, fixing cars. Something to keep you busy. If you’re in trouble, emotional or otherwise, there are people who love and support you, who will do their mightiest to be by your side, and if those aren’t your friends, they’re definitely your family.

Bottling up emotions, or dealing with them in horrible, unhealthy ways has been my go-to. Don’t be like me. Express yourself in different ways, and don’t keep your feelings shoved under the carpet, because it will, absolutely, unceremoniously explode, and you’ll take people down with you. And that’s when you’ll feel like the worst person in the world. The guilt, the residue of said ugly feelings isn’t worth it. Trust me.

If you make mistakes, if you hurt people who don’t deserve it, learn from it, grow, be better. Do not sink into yourself , don’t hate yourself. Apologize, make amends and move on, try to never do the same thing. It’s okay. We’re all human. The only thing that matters is that you try to be better.

No matter what, remember that I will always love you.              

~~~~

So. Our apartment back in Kansas was, as I told you, a real dump. It had a tiny-ass kitchen with a miniature stove, two mattresses that were creaky and lumpy and were left there by the previous owners, as well as the TINIEST bathroom you’ve ever seen. It didn’t have shower walls, it had a shower head and a drain on the floor and was not in any way separated from the toilet. The walls of the place were peeling, the floor was tiled and cracked in a bunch of places and the humidity must’ve been over 80%.

I fucking loved that place.

On our third day there, I borrowed some spray paints from Cole, carried them in a cardboard box up the claustrophobic, green stairs, and opened the door in absolute triumph. That day, Sam and I opened the two windows, scratched the paint off the walls with two spatulas and went WILD. It must’ve been the only day Sam didn’t study.

Actually, no, now that I think about it, there was another time, when little ol’ ten-year-old Sam fell off a ledge and freakin’ broke his arm. I dumped him on Cole’s bike and pedaled to the hospital like a maniac. That was the first day he didn’t study.

Anyways, that apartment wall made our crappy little living situation a home. Our own sanctuary. We finally got agency over our lives, from staying up late, to choosing which type of dish soap we’d use because it smelled better and didn’t remind us of the terror chores once were. Eventually, we got soft blankets, books, board games, decorations… Finally, after 18 years, we’d started our lives.

I think one of my favorite memories would be coming home from my first date with a guy. I was just 18 and Benny, the dude, kissed me before I left, his fists clutching at my flannel. I was driving home with a giant, dopey-ass smile, stretching from one ear straight to the other. That same night, with new-found confidence, I told Sammy to drop his book, bought ourselves some beers and snacks, and drove to my favorite clearing.

There, right under the stars, with Sammy trying out his first beer, I told him I’m bisexual, and the cute bastard hugged me and told me he loved me no matter what. That same night, he thanked me for everything I did for him while living with John. We talked until the sun was rising.

I’ll tell you this right now, kid, in case you haven’t gotten it yet. I love Sam. Love him to bits. I raised that kid all on my own and will do anything to protect him. I know he cares for me, I know it kills him to see me like this, in a bed, pale, miserable and coughing every three seconds. I just want you to know, honey, that whatever you need, anything at all that, for some reason, you don’t want to tell Dad, you go to Sam, okay? You can trust him to be supportive, loyal, to be there for you when no one else is and to love you like you’re his own daughter and best friend. I promise you, he will always, always be there when I’m not.

That night made us grow so much closer. The lesson here, I’d say, is be bold and confident in what you believe in and who you are. Be your own, unique self, be brave, and love whoever you choose to fully and with your whole heart, without shame, ever. If you are yourself, I promise, you’ll find the people that love you for you, not the person you’re pretending to be. You’ll inspire other to be themselves.

A good example of this would be my best friend, Charlie. When I came out, I was armed to the teeth to deal with whoever wanted to bully me for that part of me. To tell you the truth, my school coming out was a mishap. It takes nothing but a risky make-out session in the janitor’s closet and nosey students that rip doors open far too violently. Nevertheless, I was literally out of the closet, fists up. And that’s exactly when I met Charlie.

With her comic book stories and her books, her bubbly personality and bright smile, she wiggled her way into our lives and permanently stayed there. She was a freshman when I was a senior, but she seemed to find sanctuary by my side, as I did by hers. She was just one of those people who clicked, you know? Far too mature and interesting for her age, with an obsession with computers, even back when they were barely even a thing.

She now lives with her long-term girlfriend, Gilda, who owns the best bakery in the state. Ask for the apple pie, you will not be disappointed.

Charlie demanded of me to tell you, first off, to watch Marvel and screw DC right to hell (with which I have to agree, though Batman still remains one of the coolest Superheroes of my childhood (and Joker, the coolest villain)). She also told me that, if you read this, go ask her for her comics, She’d love to let you borrow them and she’s certain you’ll love them. Second off, she asked of me to tell you the Impala story…

It’s not as grand as she makes it out to be, honestly. However this is the part where you’ll learn all about the one and only Bobby Singer.

Bobby was my boss, an old friend of dad’s John’s and the first person who ever saw the bruises under my sleeves. He gave me a job, a family, and later on… a car.

Bobby owns a scrapyard. He taught me everything I know about cars, including driving, and for my seventeenth birthday, he brought a dusty, beat-up car in my workspace. The hood was bent, the seats were torn, and the engine needed immediate replacing. The customer never paid the price for the compartments the garage had paid, so under store policy, the car was ours.

Hannah, I can’t exactly describe to you how long it took me to repair that car. Buying the spare parts and assembling them would’ve probably taken less time. I built her from the ground up, it took me almost a month and a half of daily, eight-to-six work, but I made it. I fixed her up. She was in prime condition, and I had completely fallen in love with her.

I finished working on her early January, dreading the moment I would see her drive away. Bobby had seen all the effort, by then I’d worked at his place for over a year. So, on the day of my birthday, I opened my locker to put on my jumpsuit, when I saw a box placed on my neatly folded clothes. I’m sure you’ve guessed it by now. Yes. It was the keys to my dream car. A beautiful, sleek, black 1967 Chevrolet Impala, the one I had brought back to life. And it was all mine.

I don’t think I’ve hugged Bobby any tighter since then. Hell, I don’t think I’ve hugged him period.

That car… That car is probably the most stable thing in my life, apart from Sam, obviously. I’ve cried in that car, I’ve escaped from my terrible past, I’ve laughed, I’ve had my first time, I’ve been through breakups and I’ve spent my best days with it. I cherish it more than any other item I know. It’s not even an item, it’s my baby. I love it almost as much as I love you.

I met your dad, and kissed him for the first time in that car.

It’s actually a pretty fucking hilarious story. Cas was on a date with this guy who was completely disgusting and creepy as hell, so in true  movie fashion he decided to, get this, jump out the bathroom window and escape.

Yeah.

So just as he was running out of the bar, the guy must’ve caught wind of him or something, because he stepped outside in order to find Cas. What did your dad decide to do, I hear you ask? He ducked behind a car in the parking lot, opened the first unlocked door he found, and jumped in.

Spoiler alert. It was my car.

I was sitting in the front seat, fighting with Sam through text when the door opened. It was highly comical, watching this guy duck behind the bench seat, mumbling “oh God, oh God, oh God, please don’t see me, oh God.” I cleared my throat.

“Oh, I see you, buddy.” That’s the first thing I told him. The look on his face and the genuine yelp, made me laugh a full belly laugh, and completely forget about my fight with Sam. He apologized profusely, explained panicked what had happened and begged me to stay in my car just for a couple minutes so the guy can lose him.

Long story short, we ended up going out ourselves. I don’t know how to explain it… we just clicked immediately. Like, there was a connection. Him and his big words, his baby blue eyes, his steady, deep and rough voice… I knew right away that all I wanted was to spend time with him, learn everything he was willing to share with me.

I’m so glad to have met your Dad. He was, is and always will be one of the best, kindest, most humble and genuine people on the planet. He sees the world from such a beautiful point of view that contradicts my eternal realism (he enjoys calling me pessimistic.) He’s a genuinely great person, and I can’t wait for you to figure so out yourself, if you haven’t already.

Of course, it wasn’t all fine and dandy. Meeting his parents was hellish. Let’s just say, Chuck and Naomi aren’t… the best people. They tried really, really hard to stop us from seeing each other, and eventually, they completely disowned Cas. He doesn’t like to talk about them much. His brother, Gabriel is an asshole, but a loveable one, while his other brother, Michael, you probably don’t know about. And you shouldn’t. Let’s just leave it at that. If Cas wants to share that story with you, he’ll do it at his own time.

I’m sure there’s a lesson to be learned here. Something about, when finding your person, to keep them, fight for them, don’t stop loving them because everyone else is telling you (unless of course that person is toxic). But I don’t think I can give you solid love advice through a dumb book. Every relationship is different, and your Dad’s better at this than me anyways.

--

I don’t know exactly how long this thing is, by this point, but I’ve almost finished the pages of this booklet. I was really, really worried I wouldn’t finish it in time, but here we are. However many thousand words later, and I’m clueless as to how to wrap this up.

My life isn’t over yet, however it looks like it soon will be. I will confess to you, I’m scared, but most of all I’m angry. I’m angry at the world, at life and fate, if that’s even a thing, at God even. I’ve fought my whole life for peace and quiet, and right when I have found it, it’s being ripped from under my feet. Cancer fucking sucks.

No matter, my chin is up, and so are my fists. Winchesters don’t give up easy. I will fight this until my last breath, even if the chance of watching you grow up and being able to tell you everything I’ve written face-to-face, is nothing but a sliver. After all, impossible odds were always my favorite.

Sweetheart… I don’t know what to say. This might be the only thing you have left of me for the rest of your life, and it tears me up inside. Of course, I will not be able to write thirty five years of experience in a small book such as this, but this is a part of me, memories you can keep all to yourself. Ask Dad or Sam about any of it, I’m sure they’ll fill some gaps, tell you things I haven’t written.

I don’t want you to cry much, even though I’m not sure you will at all, given the fact that you’ve never met me. Either way, whether you feel or think anything of me or not, I want you to know that I love you so much. I’ve only known you for a couple of months, and, already, you’re the brightest ray of sunshine in my life.

I promise I will be by your side no matter what happens, through every milestone and hardship, I will love you from wherever I am.

Honey, please stay true to yourself. Never give up, no matter what curveballs life throws at you. There’s always reason to keep going, even if you can’t see it. Always keep fighting, ‘till your last breath, ‘cause you’re a Winchester and you’ve absolutely got this.

If there is something I want you to remember from the scribbly mess I’ve made, it’s this:

I love you. I’m proud of you. I believe in you.

Go get ‘em, tiger.

 Bonus:

Tears streaming down velvety soft cheeks, dainty fingers gripping the book tightly, like her life depends on it, Hannah stares at the ceiling and groans at the mess she is. It’s the second time she read that last bit, and just as she thought she’d gotten over it, here she is, crying just as hard as the first.

She gets off her bed, pulling on her sweater sleeves. Feet in slippers, she makes her way down the corridor, knocking on the door, and opening when she gets an answer. Her fingers grip the doorknob, the other clutching the book, and she stares at the bed, watching as green eyes look up from his laptop.

“Why did you give this to me, you ass, you’re not dead,” she sobs, and Dean pushes his laptop to the side, arms opening wide to invite her in them.

“Aw honey,” he coos, a gentle, loving smile on his face. Hannah climbs on the bed and slides to his side, curling up in his arms. “It’s okay.” Fingers stroking her hair gently, as sobs wrack through the poor girl’s body. Dean almost feels bad.

Just then, Cas appears in the doorway, having heard Hannah’s cries. He sees the booklet clutched in her arms, her face buried in Dean’s neck, hidden behind her spring-curly hair. He makes eye contact with his husband, a knowing half-smile on his lips, as he leans on the doorway.

“I love you,” Hannah says, nose stuffed and running. “Thank you for not giving up on a relationship with me, even when you didn’t think you’ll survive.” Tears wet Dean’s eyes, as he presses a kiss on the crown of her head.

“I love you too.”

[ponyregrets]

for the friends-to-lovers prompts, i found this in a text post i once reblogged: "we drunk-kissed but you forgot about it and i don’t know how to act around you anymore wtf". hope you have a nice day !!!

I combined this with another prompt (a tweet about a teacher with a birthday message on his forehead) from @allstandsilver

AO3!

Bellamy's first mistake is assuming that he's safe because his twenty-eighth birthday is on a Monday.

He doesn't make any plans, obviously. Celebrating the weekend before always feels kind of like cheating, but he invited people out for drinks on Friday, which he assumed was sufficient. It wasn't like he was ignoring his birthday.

When he gets home from work, Clarke isn't there, which isn't particularly surprising, but she has left a cupcake with a single candle on the kitchen counter, and a card that says, Happy birthday! See you in a couple hours, I hope. It's a fairly typical Clarke message, one that would have pissed him off, once upon a time. He moved in with her because the rent was cheap and the apartment was nice, and Clarke was friends with Monty, who is his friend who is least likely to tell him to move in with someone who is secretly awful as a joke.

And Clarke really isn't awful. The biggest issue was that she's rich and her parents own her very nice condo, and Bellamy was surly and vaguely resentful about the way she didn't have to work like a normal person and could still take care of herself. He might have been benefiting from her wealth, but that didn't make him like her.

Luckily, Clarke could do that all on her own. Within about a month, their bickering had moved from barbed to affectionate, and as he got to know her, he started to realize how hard Clarke did work, albeit with weird hours and less compensation than most people would need to survive. She wasn't an idle rich person, she was a rich person who took advantage of being well off to do what she wanted. It sucked that he couldn't do the same, but that's not really Clarke's fault. She works part-time for Planned Parenthood and volunteers at various museums and goes to parties her mother has just to argue with rich assholes, and on the side, she does art.

Now that he likes her, he's glad she's got the life she wants. She deserves it.

Right now, she's probably in her studio, so he texts Do you want me to make dinner for you or are you good? and goes to find a beer. He's going to have a couple drinks, not do any grading, and play video games, and when Clarke gets home, she'll probably hang out with him. It's a pretty good birthday plan, as far as he's concerned.

When the door opens half an hour into this plan, he calls, "Hey, welcome back!" and doesn't think anything of Clarke's not responding until the blindfold goes on.

"Happy birthday, dickweed," says Murphy, and shoves at shot into his hand.

"We love you," Miller adds.

"If you really loved me, you'd let me stay home and play Stardew Valley."

Miller takes one of his arms and Murphy takes the other and they pull him up and out of the apartment. He doesn't resist that much--they're probably not going to kill him on purpose, and if they got into the apartment, Clarke is at least involved, and she won't let them kill him by accident--but he makes sure there's enough resistance that they know he's not thrilled about this turn of events.

When he gets into the car, he gets another shot, and then Clarke says, "Your safe word is banana cream pie."

"Really?" he asks, downing the shot. It does actually taste like banana cream pie, which is kind of terrifying. "Is my safe word supposed to be dirty? That seems counter-productive."

"Is banana cream pie dirty?"

"It sounds like a euphemism for something. Come on, that's some sexual imagery."

"It might have been too long since you've gotten laid. Are you planning to figure out what sex act banana cream pie could refer to and then ask me to do it?"

"I'm definitely planning to do the first part." The second's not unappealing either, but he knows better than to fuck his roommate, especially his roommate he has a crush on. That's a recipe for disaster.

"Me too," Clarke admits. "But if you need to get out of this at any time, tell me banana cream pie and I'll bail you out."

"And you'll be a pathetic asshole," says Murphy. Then he squeaks, so Bellamy assumes Clarke kicked him.

"She'd only agree to this if we gave you an out," says Miller.

"This is why she's my favorite."

"Uh huh."

She's also his favorite because she ignores Miller. "So, do you need to get out?" she asks.

If he was a little better at letting friends down and/or self-preservation, he'd just say the safe word, and he and Clarke would get out of the car and have the low-key evening he'd been planning. That would definitely be the right choice. But they went to so much trouble, and he's kind of curious, and he's going to get to hang out with Clarke either way, so--

"I need another shot," he says, and everyone cheers.

*

Bellamy's alarm is set to go off every weekday at five-thirty, which is good because he wouldn't have remembered to set it and bad because his fucking phone is going off and he's definitely going to die. His mouth tastes like old leather, his whole body aches, and he thinks he banged his elbow on something, but he has no idea what or when or how.

"Happy birthday to me," he mutters, and staggers into the shower.

He stays in there for longer than usual, letting the hot water ease the various aches and pains in his muscles, but despite that, when he gets out of the shower, he still sees that BIRTHDAY BOY is written on his forehead in bright red sharpie, apparently unaffected by the steady stream of water trying to wash it off.

The calculations happen as quickly as they can, given how slowly his brain is moving. He spent a long time in the shower, and he's been dragging his feet every step of the way on top of that, so he doesn't have a lot of time to spare. He could try to scrub the marker off and be late, or he could just let it slide. His first-period class is APUSH, and while they're obviously assholes, they're the kind of assholes who will have fun with the teacher coming in with something weird written on his forehead. And then he's got second period free and he can deal with the problem then. That should be enough time.

It's not the best solution. But it's the best one he's got.

He gets dressed, gets packed, and makes sure he's completely ready to go before he pushes Clarke's door open and shakes her awake.

"What?" she asks, muzzy.

She's good at falling back to sleep, so he doesn't feel that bad for saying, "Hey, quick question."

She sits up, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. "Yeah."

"Is there writing anywhere else on my body?"

It doesn't seem to be the question she was expecting. "What?"

"I've got this," he says, pointing to his forehead. "Anywhere else? I don't want to find out from a student."

"Yeah, I guess you wouldn't." She finds her glasses on the bedside table and examines him, with a small frown. "I think you're good, as long as you keep wearing exactly that amount of clothing."

"Cool. Sorry I woke you up."

"I probably deserved it." She wets her lips. "That's it?"

"Yeah. Have a good day, get more sleep, I hate you."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

*

In Bellamy's experience, high-school kids think they're much slicker than they are. Which, to be fair, is true of a lot of people. But it's clear even to his alcohol-fogged brain that his APUSH class is laughing at him and they think he hasn't noticed, which is kind of pathetic. That is a level of failure to deceive that is truly epic.

"Okay," he says, once he's done with his lecture. No one has said a single word about the message on his forehead, and that is impressive. They're passing notes about it, but the class collectively understands that this is a rare and beautiful moment that must be protected at all costs. "Before we break into groups, any questions?"

Fox's hand shoots up, and he points at her. "How old are you, Mr. Blake?"

There's some giggling, and someone hisses, be cool in what they clearly think is a whisper. He can't tell who it is, though, so that's something.

"Uh, I just turned twenty-eight."

Apparently it wasn't the answer they were expecting; the news sets off another round of frantic whispering.

"I'm going to regret asking this, but did you guys think I was younger or older?"

"I thought you were, like, twenty-four, tops," says Sterling. "Maybe just out of college."

"Thanks, I think. Is any of this relevant to the exercise we're doing?"

"You asked," Sterling shoots back, which is true.

"I did, thanks for letting me know. Any relevant questions?"

"Did you do anything fun last night?" asks Jordan, and he makes a show of rolling his eyes. He's Monty's little brother, and Miller has a huge crush on Monty, so Jordan might actually have insider information on Bellamy's private life. It's something he tries not to think about.

"I don't know, did you? Get to work, Green."

The period ends with none of the students having told him about the writing on his forehead, which is the kind of thing that feels like it deserves a reward. He had expected someone to tell him, and the fact that no one did is genuinely impressive. They did a really good job.

Me: Do you think I can leave this message on my forehead until a student tells me it's there?

Clarke: I think you can do whatever you wantThat's your question?

Me: My first period class didn't say anything about itI want to see how long they can go

Clarke: They're going to counter-bet how long it'll be before you notice

Me: So everyone will have an exciting dayHow's your hangover?

Clarke: I don't get hangovers, I'm not an amateurDid you have fun?

Me: I think soMy memories are basically a fight scene filmed by Peter Jackson with a strobe light, so it's hard to be sure

Clarke: Ouch

Me: Did I ever use my safe word?

Clarke: NoIt seemed like you were having fun

Me: I'm pretty sure I wasThanks for helping to set it up

Clarke: [thumb's up emoji]

By fourth period, his day has completely turned around. His students have all entered into some kind of blood pact about not telling him that he has something written on his forehead, and three of his coworkers have come over to tell him privately, which means he can get them in on the whole thing. The students are convinced he just hasn't looked in the mirror since whenever the message was left, and there's some sort of pool to see who can find out who wrote it, which is doomed to failure. Unless someone confesses, the mystery of who wrote on his forehead will probably remain unsolved.

Still, it's nice to see the students banding together to keep a secret from him. Anything that gets the kids united is good in his book.

Madi Taylor from his sixth-period freshmen is the one who finally tells him, quiet and a little hesitant, after a homework question, when no one is around. She's clearly aware it's a betrayal, but she is one of his favorite students. He can't be mad she's on his side.

"You've got something on your forehead," is her way of putting it, which is pretty cute.

"Yeah, I know."

Her eyes widen. "Who told you?"

"Madi, how many mornings do you not look in the mirror before you go to school?"

"I heard you came right from the party."

"I don't know how anyone would know that, but I didn't." He smiles. "Don't tell them, I know you guys are having fun."

She looks dubious. "Aren't you going to get in trouble? Like, with the principal or something?"

"Not if everyone's cool."

Once she's gone, he texts Clarke someone finally cracked and then tries very hard to not think about when she'll respond, but that's an uphill battle. Because he always texts Clarke throughout the day, and she's been weird today. Off. Her replies feel terse, irritated and she could be distracted, but it feels like he fucked up something he doesn't even know about.

It's not even his fault, she was the one giving him endless shots. And she's the one who remembers what happened. He can't fix issues he doesn't know about.

Me: Did I do something to Clarke last night?

Miller: Dude, I'm not setting you up for this

Me: Setting me up for what?

Miller: Some shitty dad joke about how laid you got

He drops the phone and it clatters across the floor, startling his last-period class as they work on their quiz. It doesn't get close enough for anyone to pick it up, but Ethan does ask, "Did you finally see your reflection?"

"Eyes on your papers, it's just a phone," he says, grabbing it. "Two more minutes."

Me: Your shots got me blackout drunk and Clarke is mad at meTalk

Miller doesn't respond before the quiz ends, so Bellamy has to actually be a teacher instead of checking his phone, which is a fucking nightmare. Teaching is his passion, but finding out what happened last night and if he ruined his entire life hitting on Clarke or something would be nice too. That's the kind of data it's important to have.

"And yes, I have known about the writing on my face for the whole day," he tells them, wrapping up his lecture a minute before the bell. "But I'm proud of you guys for not telling me and assuming I don't know what mirrors are. Read the next chapter for tomorrow and be ready to talk about what you want to do for your projects."

He makes himself wait until all the kids are gone before he finally checks his phone, makes himself go to the top of the texts before he starts reading.

Miller: ShitUmOkI wasn't paying a ton of attentionFlirting with Monty etcBut I know you and Clarke were joined at the hipWhich is pretty standardBut you were drunk and touchy-feelyAnd later on I saw you guys full-on making outAnd then you told me you were leaving with this huge shit eating grin on your faceI figured you guys had sloppy drunk sex and I'd never hear the end of it

Me: Fuck I hope we didn'tIf I had sex with Clarke and FORGOTFuckThanks

Miller: Just remember, it takes twoYou weren't the only one grinning and slobberingJust talk to her

Me: I'm tryingThanks for the update

Miller: Let me know how it goesThe G-rated version

It's hard for Bellamy to believe there's going to be any version aside from the G-rated one, but he honestly understand why Miller thinks it's a good sign. If he was Clarke and he'd spent last night making out with her, only for her to spend the whole day texting him about some stupid shit, he'd probably be pretty upset. And if he thought that making out was a mistake, he probably wouldn't be snippy about it. He'd be relieved that she didn't know it had happened.

Or maybe he wouldn't. Even if he made out with someone he hated, he'd probably be annoyed if they just forgot. No matter how he felt about the person, he'd like to be memorable.

But really, there's only one way to find out why she's mad at him; there was only ever one way. They're just going to have to talk.

Me: Do you need dinner?

Clarke: At the studioBut thanks

Clarke's studio is a few blocks from their apartment, so he stops by on his way home from work all the time. If she'd said that on an ordinary night, he would probably stop by, so he can do it tonight too. It's not weird. Or at least, it shouldn't be. Everything is covered with a thin film of weirdness right now, but he'll break through it. He has to.

He's still mildly hungover and doesn't feel like cooking anyway, so he picks up some Chinese on his way. He can hear Clarke's angry playlist blaring as soon as he gets off the elevator, which isn't the best sign, but it's not like waiting will make it better. Not with unspoken grudges festering between them.

Not with his lips tingling with the knowledge that he kissed her and no fucking idea what it felt like.

"Clarke!" he calls, rapping on the door. "Open up, you need to eat!"

The music cuts off and the door swings open. Clarke is paint-splattered and wild, and he wants to kiss her now, fucking wants to kiss her all the time. It's not new, but it does seem more urgent.

"Did we make out last night?" he blurts out, and Clarke slumps against the wall.

"You remembered?"

"No," he admits. "I asked Miller why you were pissed at me and he said the last time he saw us, we were making out."

She wets her lips, not meeting his eyes. "I didn't think you were that drunk. I didn't know you--I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have--"

It makes sense all at once, even if it kind of breaks his heart. She thinks she took advantage of him and she's annoyed with herself for doing it. It's perfectly, totally understandable.

"Clarke, you didn't do anything wrong."

Her eyes flash. "How do you know? You don't know what happened."

"Did we kiss?"

"Yeah."

"Did we do anything else? After we got home."

"No. Just at the party. But you were way too drunk to--"

"You were pretty drunk too." He swallows, steps closer. "What happened? Why did we?"

"Because I wanted to!" she snaps. "Because I've been wanting to kiss you since you moved in and I thought you wanted to too and I--"

Interrupting someone with a kiss is, in Bellamy's experience, easier said than done. It happens all the time in movies and books, but it's hard to coordinate in real life, not nearly as fluid or smooth as he wants it to be. It should be a cool moment, but it takes a second to slot into place, Clarke's jaw under his fingers, her lips under his mouth.

But then she whimpers, tugs him close, kisses back, and it is familiar. They've done this before. They're good at this.

"I can't believe I forgot about this," he says. "Jesus, I didn't think it was possible for me to be so drunk I'd lose this."

Her smile is sheepish. "I did give you a lot of shots."

"Probably not just you. I'm pretty sure I drank my weight in birthday shots." He swallows. "So, uh--are we good?"

"Are we going to do that again?"

"I'm in love with you," he says. "So--yeah. As much as possible."

She laughs, winds her arms around his neck and kisses him again. "Wash your forehead off," she says. "Then we're good."

He had actually completely forgotten about the writing on his forehead; he hadn't had time to wash it off, with everything else happening, but it also didn't seem very important. "Do you know who wrote it?"

"No. But that's why I kissed you."

"Seriously?"

"I was just looking for an excuse."

"I'm glad you got one. Maybe I should keep it."

She pushes him away gently, still smiling. "Nope. Get cleaned up and we can have dinner."

He grins back. "It's a date."

[yoondoze]

playground escapades | n.jm

“it’s two in the morning, what are you doing here?” + “can i kiss you?” + jaemin 

pairing: na jaemin x reader

genre: pure unadulterated fluff uwu

word count: 1.7k

warnings: none

a/n: i got carried away so this is now a one-shot

You almost didn’t notice the way your phone on the nightstand lit up as you were too busy sulking in your bed.  However, instead of ignoring the glow, you made the decision to pick it up.

nana, 6:34 pm

we still on for tonight?

Upon reading the message, a shock of panic ran through your body. You had totally forgotten! Too caught up in drama with your family, your plans with Jaemin had completely slipped your mind.

you, 6:35pm

omfg i’m so sorry

i got grounded earlier because i failed my math test :( i can’t go out

nana, 6:37pm

what??

they GROUNDED you for a bad grade? wtf

you, 6:40pm

yeah, i know :(

nana, 6:42pm

when are you grounded til?

you, 6:43pm

for the next couple days, idk. when they do this i’ll usually wait four days before asking to go somewhere sooo

nana, 6:45pm

that’s absolutely unbelievable

is that even legal? that can’t be legal

that’s so unfair

You laughed to yourself at the texts he was sending through. You thought it was unfair, too, but there wasn’t much you could do about it besides face reality and put up with the punishment. He made it a bit better, though - it brought up one of your first smiles of the day.

you, 6:47pm

yeah, it is. but i’ll see you at school, at least. sorry i can’t go with you

nana, 6:48pm

not your fault. i’ll figure out something we can do, just wait ;)

The winky face had you tilting your head upon reading it. Wait? Wait for what?

you, 6:50pm

what does that mean?

nana, 6:50pm

just wait!! love u and see u soon <3

you, 6:50pm

...see you? love u too

Though you had no idea what the boy meant, you carried on with your night, setting down your phone before your parents could see you and take it away.

Clank.

You blinked at the sound of a small puttering sound echoing out in your room and turned over, tangling yourself in the warmth of your bedsheets.

Clank.

You buried yourself deeper in your covers to try to mask the noise.

Clank.

Frustrated, you reached for your pillow and folded around your head to shield your ears.

Clank.

You huffed, angrily climbing out of bed and treading over to your window. Ripping back the curtains, your heart nearly stopped when your eyes landed on the figure standing outside. You stumbled back in alarm, a gasp slipping from your mouth.

Then the figure waved. In the moonlight, you could make out a beaming smile - one awfully familiar to you. You sighed to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose before flinging open the window, revealing your boyfriend with a cheeky simper laying comfortably on his face.

“Jaemin, it’s two in the fucking morning, what are you doing here?”

He chuckled. “I told you I’d see you soon, didn’t I?”

“I mean- yeah,” you sputtered, trying to keep your voice down, “but I didn’t think you’d be knocking on my window in the middle of the night!”

He shrugged in response. “My spontaneity is a surprising trait to most.”

You deadpanned, looking at him with a tired but deathly stare, but he only smiled. “Again, why are you here?”

“Well you see,” he started, “I think it’s unfair that your parents grounded you, so I’m here to give you the dose of fun you need!”

“...And how will you do that?”

“I’m sneaking you out, obviously!”

You felt your face scrunch up. “What? No - Jaemin, I can’t leave. They’ll kill me if they find out.”

“So we just have to make sure they don’t find out,” he replied with a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

“C’mon, it’ll only be for a little bit. You’ll be back before the sun rises, I promise.”

To top it off, he brought out his puppy eyes and pushed out his bottom lip in a plump pout. It was something he knew you couldn’t resist - while Jaemin was one of the most push and shove kind of characters you knew, you were absolutely weak for his tactics.

“Alright. Where are we going?”

“I’ll tell you when you get out here. It’s kind of cold out so you should probably put on a jacket, and maybe some pants, too, unless you’re feeling frisky,” he teased, making your face flush hot.

You crept around your room carefully and slipped on some joggers and grabbed a sweatshirt hanging from the back of your door. You pulled it over your head and made your way back to the window and widened it open as far as it could go.

You were in good fortune that your bedroom was on the first floor - there was no way you’d be able to sneak out by trying to walk out of the back door due to the horrible squeakiness of the floorboards.

Carefully, you popped out the screen and laid it on the floor, then gently hooking your legs over the sill. Jaemin aided your maneuver with his hands on your sides, lowering you out slowly. Then, you plopped onto the ground behind the shrubs.

You wiped your hands on your thighs. “Okay, so now where are we going?”

“You’ll see when we get there,” he said simply.

“Na Jaemin,” you sighed, shaking your head, “you’ll be the death of me.”

He smirked. “But for now, I’m the life of you.”

He clasped his hand with yours and pulled you off, crouching down slightly behind the cover of foliage even though you were almost certain that there would be no one awake to spot you.

The walk wasn’t far, but there wasn’t much conversation between the two of you - only small giggles and shy smiles. It felt odd, but there wasn’t a sick feeling in your stomach like always when you were doing something like this. You hated not following the rules, you hated getting in trouble, and you certainly never snuck out... That is, until you met Jaemin.

At the same time, there was a rush of excitement that went against your desire to turn around and run home, to tuck yourself into bed before anyone found out. 

Soon, he stopped walking and spread his arms out, motioning to the land before him.

“...the park?” You asked.

“No, silly - the playground!”

You shook your head but followed after him when he took off toward the large structure in the center of the wood chips.

He skipped up the stairs happily, and you thought that the playground was the perfect place for a boy like Jaemin. Of course he’d want to take you to a place full of good memories and the purity of childhood youth, wouldn’t he? It was exactly what he embodied as a person.

You slid your hands along the colorful handrails as you climbed up, spinning some of the wheels and flipping the blocks along the way.

At the top of the slide was where Jaemin was perched, sitting crisscrossed in its dark green plastic mouth.

You sat down across from him and reached over for his hand, pulling it into your lap as you laced your fingers with his.

His head turned out to look over the open fields surrounding the small area of woodchips. Multiple overgrown baseball fields sat between the playground and the treeline, everything empty and bare. 

“Isn’t it amazing?” He asked, “you know, being here all alone.”

You nodded in agreement, looking through the slits of the slide out across the other equipment. This was the highest point of the park, and you could even see a few twinkling lights from town far away.

“I don’t know about you, but whenever I’m here at night, time doesn’t feel… real. It’s like we don’t even exist because no one’s here to see. It’s just us.”

“Yeah, I think I know what you mean,” you said, “It feels nice. It feels good. Like I belong in this place, where there’s no reality to return to... like I’m a kid again.”

The corners of his mouth tugged up. “Exactly.”

So close up, you could see how the soft moonlight shone on his face, putting a certain glow in his eyes that made you feel like you were falling in love all over again. When he drew you in with his gaze, you thought that maybe you were buried deep in those thoughts, like how he was in yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

The direct question had you hanging your head down in embarrassment. Jaemin was bold, you knew, but it never failed to catch you off guard. You bit your lip, trying to fight back a grin before coming back up with a small “yes.”

With your response, he immediately leaned in. His hand rushed up to its place on the side of your face, lips gently pushing against your own.

A delicate kiss to fit the delicacy of childhood memories, you supposed.

If you focused hard enough, let yourself go in the moment, you could be there again; Back to a time so pure and without worry. You could get lost in that place of innocence.

But then Jaemin was there again, bringing you back to reality. He was a reminder that the real world, the now world, was still good - your memories stayed with you always, both in a playground and out. You could grow up without leaving it behind. If Jaemin wasn’t living proof of that, then you didn’t know what was.

Giggles escaped his mouth when he pulled back, neck craning up to look at the stars above. You knew he was trying to hide a blush, but you wouldn’t tease him for it.

After letting out a large exhale, he prompted, “It’s getting late. Why don’t we get you home?”

You hummed quietly in thought. “I think…” you said, watching as his signature smirk began to rise on his face, knowing just what you were about to say, “that we should stay a little longer.”

[whyareyoulikethis1d]

What do you think about Zigi situation and the talks going on about it from the media as well as online?

Oh anon why are you making me do this… Well I have time today.

When it comes to online/ fandom let me go by categories.

1- The Ziams & anti-zigis:

These people from the start have been atrocious. Not only have they harassed Gigi & her family but same with Zayn & his family. They have been intrusive and have spread lies online (those so called “exposing accounts”) Whether it’s on IG or Twitter. In my opinion they are tinthats and just mad weird. They keep on saying everything is fake, is a stunt, TPTB, etc… 

It’s repetitive, predictable, pathetic & boring.

 Guess what tinhats ZAYN & LIAM WILL NEVER BE TOGETHER ROMANTICALLY!!! 

For someone that they claim to love & stan they sure have a low opinion of Zayn and what he is willing to do for his status. Not only that but their false rumors and stuff is at times picked up by tabloids. So kudos to you for helping your fave dummies…

So when it comes to them I am just like:

2- Zigis:

I never really liked real couple shipping or should I say being a “stan” of a couple. I find it cringy and they also do go overboard and cross boundaries. Just because one is supportive doesn’t mean that they are not just as invasive or annoying as tinhats. (You can check my blog and how I was annoyed with the “Freddies”). 

So when it come to Zigis they were to me just like that. Anything that either Zayn and or Gigi did they were linking it together. Any like, comment, follow is or was being reported online. They even had/have update accounts. 

The ugly side of it is when the couple breaks up and they can’t let go or accept it. Think the Jelena (Justin & Selena), the Robsten (Rob & Kristen Stewart) or even the Zerrie (Zayn & Perrie) shippers/stan. Look at how ugly they got towards one or the other person especially when one of their OTP has moved on to a new partner (ex: Justin with Hailey, Rob with FKA Twigs & Zayn with Gigi). They actually become conspiracy theorists because they cannot accept that their OTP is over.  

Now when it comes to Zigis, they have actually turned into the Zerries that they were complaining and making fun of back in the day. LET IT GO!! Stop making connections and thinking that any follow, like or comment means something more. Don’t go harassing their possible new partners. Stop sending family DMs to find out the status of Zayn & Gigi’s relationship because you want some type of reassurance that your OTP are still together. BUTT OUT…. Last year during their first break up, the Zigis went on to attack Sofia & Iskra Lawrence because they thought something was maybe going on between them and Zayn. They said some pretty misogynistic things (feminist/girl power 101 my ass). They also went after (although to a lesser degree) they were being nasty and shady towards Lewis Hamilton when rumors were going around that him & Gigi were maybe going out. They are cringy…….

So when it comes to them, I am like:

3- Zstans & Gigi stans:

Both side have shown their true colors or their true feelings once it has been said that they are no longer together. 

On the Zstans side, some were sad others were happy (that is excluding the ziams & antis), others were relieved but for the most part at least from what I saw they were chill up until the first US weekly article. Then the ugliness started. Some even sided with conspiracy theorists out of all people.. Like eww… I get wanting to defend your fave (and at times you were damn right to defend him) but come on now do better…. 

You gleefully were rejoicing when you assumed that Zayn was shading Gigi with his tweets and thought that he was proving you right when you were calling her manipulative, disgusting and all that jazz. Nevertheless, Zayn himself went off on all of you and set you guys straight pretty quickly.

You doing all of that, made things worst for the person that you claim to stan & love because guess what tabloids picked up on it and it created negative press towards Zayn. So kudos to you for helping your fave dummies…  

As for the Gigi stans I don’t follow many of them to be quite honest but the impression that I always got is that while Zayn & Gigi were together they kept quiet but there were some indirects here and there and then they just let loose when the break up happened. They 100% believed what tabloids were saying and were now overtly being nasty towards Zayn online. I get wanting to defend your fave (and at times you were damn right to defend her against the nastiness said about her) but come on now do better…. 

They always seemed to think that Zayn was the one preventing Gigi from going out, partying  and being seen or being super active & interactive on social media like back in the day when she was besties with Kendall. They don’t think big bad Zayn is good enough for their queen Gigi.. Well guess what Gigi stans to my knowledge she’s still not yet doing the stuff you expected her to do. So sucks to be you….

You don’t know Zayn or Gigi personnaly. You are not part of their inner circle. You don’t know what their relationship is or was like except from what they have chosen to share or from what the media/tabloids have decided to spin for clicks. It’s their life, their relationship and their choices. PERIOD!!!!!!! 

So when it comes to them, I am like:

4- The media/tabloids + Zayn + Gigi

The media has been atrocious but more so towards Zayn than Gigi. Not surprised. Tabloids have rarely ever been on Zayn’s side. Most likely because he doesn’t curate his image as much as Gigi does. Zayn definitely hasn’t helped himself with some of the things he has said, done or tweeted online. I have said so in my tags. I don’t know what has prompted him to remember Twitter but it wasn’t a good idea at all. As a celebrity, social media is not a place to vent especially the cesspool that is Twitter. Also the vague tweets are open to interpretation and people will run with it and assume the worst automatically. I get it Zayn is still a human being like any of us but still…Be smart about how you use your platform you are not just anybody.

The media, loves to kick someone when they are down or bring up stuff. That’s what they do. They gossip, they speculate, they look for drama, they make up stuff. Anything to drive traffic on their site. Most of the articles have been basically about how Zayn is a deeply troubled young man (his anxiety issues, he is seen as a recluse, his tweets or some of his IG posts that would be 2018, his weed smoking..)  who is at an all time low (his management has allegedly dumped him, his second album did not do well commercially, still not touring, his gf has left him..) and was holding the super successful supermodel Gigi back from her full potential because she was always trying to help him. Basically that Zayn was dead weight. Then they brought in what Louis said about Zayn… You know all around just gross stuff.

It’s an easy narrative to paint for tabloids and quickly believed based on the bias people already have of Zayn that has been solidified by his reputation and the years of bad press that he hasn’t deemed worthy enough to respond to. 

That to me has always been a mistake but then again even when he does try to correct stuff or tell his side of the story, his words are ignored or not believed. He’s fucked either way. Even when he’s silent minding his own business there are still articles popping up. If my memory is correct, Zayn was pretty much silent online other than selfies up until March when he tweeted the Love You Gigi and yet since January Zayn was being mentioned in articles that were either about Gigi or about the status of their relationship (ex: the first US Weekly article).

 Nonetheless, I do think he needs an image overall and should hire a publicist to change that narrative. Zayn call Scooter Braun and ask him to give you the name of the pr people that were involved in cleaning up JB’s image just before his Purpose album…

I don’t know Zayn nor do I know what is going on in his personal life. I hope that he is doing well. If he is going through something, I hope that whatever is going on bts that he is dealing with it properly, that he has a strong & supportive system and will come on top of it. Whenever he is ready, if he wants to, he can open up about that time period in his life. (LOL who am I kidding my noisy self would love for him to write another book or do an in depth filmed interview where he talks about the Z2 era and what has been going on up until now.)

As for Gigi, she cares about her image and reputation. Gigi is smart and savvy. She’s very mindful of how she is seen and perceived in the media. She knows the game and plays along. That’s smart because she is in an industry where it does matter. Zayn should have learned that from her. Her IG is curated to showcase happiness & serenity as well as her achievements & projects. She’s photographed/papped with her friends or family, attending events, on a photoshoot or going to the gym. Break up, what break up? what heartbreak? She doesn’t need a man. She’s a strong independent woman. Girl power! Her career is going extremely well and keeps on going stronger and stronger. Kudos to her. You can’t hate her or criticize her for that. She has every right to do so.

However, what I will say is at times there are things that she has done that I was like girl wtf are you doing. For example responding to things that are not even necessary to respond to which then creates press that puts her in a good light and by default directly or indirectly throws Zayn under the bus. That tweet calling out the media about linking her to a guy..Sweetie there were no articles. Nothing had been written. No outlets had picked up the pap pics of her and her friends. It was her own fans at first that had shared the pictures on their update accounts. Or that time she responded/clapped back at a Zayn stan that hadn’t mentioned her name or tagged her but shared what was deemed an unflattering  picture of her and people in the comments were making fun of her… I was like girl how did you even find this???? Are you lurking???? Anyway both times, it made the press and Zayn was dragged into it. 

Or back in January when she was papped 2 days in a row at Zayn’s apartment. For that though, I won’t blame her in the sense of she called the paps on herself like tinhats or antis would. Being seen at his apartment, led to articles..

Gigi is still a human being like any of us and has her moments but still…

I would also like to remind people that Gigi is not in any way obligated to come to Zayn’s defense when it comes to what has been said about him by the media or online from her stans or anyone else. However, in my opinion, I do think if she has the time to tweet/call out the media about articles that hadn’t yet been written, she could tweet about some disturbing articles that have been written about someone with whom she had an on/off relationship for 3 years or so. Same thing for Zayn. Zayn has come to her defense when he tweeted for people to leave her alone. Just saying….

Finally, as for the 2 US Weekly articles, in light to what Zayn has tweeted recently, I choose to think that Gigi and her camp had no part in it. 

I know that many including mutuals of mine have entertained the theory that these articles were Gigi’s doing because of Yolanda’s connection to US Weekly. 

So for arguments sake:

As I’ve said in previous conversations, prior to even Zayn tweeting, I hope that she had no part in it. If she did, then yep I would side-eye her and call this tactic sneaky & cowardly. Why go that route? Own up to it. Why use a tabloid with “sources” instead of making a proper statement via your social media or at least via your “rep” so that it’s clear that it comes from you? 

That first US Weekly article was written after she was papped at his appartement twice. Zayn had not been seen out, he hadn’t tweeted or done anything. That article went up and was picked up by many outlets. In it, they said Zayn had issues that Gigi couldn’t help him with. She tried everything, she was no longer hanging out with her friends, etc.. etc… 

The timing of the 2nd US Weekly article was mid-March two weeks or more after Zayn tweeted the “Love you” tweet to which Gigi had not responded to (she wasn’t obligated to do it either). In that article, it mainly said that Gigi has love for Zayn but he has MAJOR ISSUES (yep this time around they added major. last time it was just issues) and it’s over for good because they are not compatible. Again it was “sources”.. I was like why wait two weeks or more to write this? Why not write that article immediately after Zayn had tweeted it. The story had died down. That article was again picked up by many other news outlet.

But like I said anon, I choose to believe or at least hope that Gigi & her camp had no part in it. I would think she’s better than that to go that low and from my knowledge, it wasn’t/ or isn’t her MO. If she doesn’t address things directly usually it’s via a rep.

So when it comes to the media, I am like:

As for my thoughts on the status of Zayn & Gigi’s relationship:

Zayn and Gigi are two young good looking rich adults. Aesthetically/visually, Zigi was a stunning couple. Bottom line, It’s their lives, their choices. Whatever happens, happens. They are two celebrities that I don’t know personally. At the end of the day it doesn’t affect my life or livelihood.

So those are all my thoughts. Have fun reading anon!!! 

[cefstickles]

The Assuring of Insecurities

Hehee! Hey everyone! This is a collab with the amazing @royal-sanders on tumblr of sorts (You'll see later why), but this is by far the longest tickle fic I've ever written! I just kept writing and writing until finally I got to a stopping point! It's almost 4,000 words! WTF!? Anyways. <3 you guys and hope you enjoy!

The Assuring of Insecurities

(Ships): Pre-romantic Logince, hinted Moxiety

Words ~ 3,919 ~

Warnings!: Insecurities about physical appearance, slight angst, light crying. Lotsa Crofter's and teasing galore, and yes...tickling.

(I’m gonna tag @apologieslogan because I kind of used their prompt in this tickle fic! I hope you like it friendos!)

Six Jars of Crofter's. Roman had six jars of Crofter's and had only bought Logan one. The logical aspect sighed incredulously as he tapped the door of the jelly cupboard in annoyance. Of course the prince would want the delicious treat all to himself. Then again Roman was salty for not getting his own jam, so could Logan really blame him? Welp, he did anyway regardless if the prince had an excuse or not. But, Logan couldn't help but wonder if the prince had another reason for giving him only one jar.

Now that Logan was out of his only jar of Crofter's, he had quickly grabbed one of Roman's and leaned on the counter to spoon it into his mouth, hoping the prince wouldn't notice. Unfortunately, not a minute later the royal waltzed into the room, but thankfully his back was turned to Logan. He seemed too preoccupied with singing a disney song and fighting imaginary beasts on top of the furniture to notice Logan had already eaten a fourth of one of his Crofter's jars.

Logan continued to spoon out the treat, keeping a close eye on Roman and continuously moving out of his range of vision. His little trick worked, until he wasn't watching where he had shoved the spoon, only for it to make a loud clinking sound as it hit the edge of the glass jar. Roman stopped his tracks as soon as he heard it, and whipped around to find a petrified Logan, rooted to the floor with the stolen jar in his right hand.

Roman could tell that the jar wasn't one of his, as he saw Logan finish the one he had gotten for him yesterday. "You just couldn't stay away from it, huh Logan?"

Logan sank immediately. Those words that the prince said struck a nerve within Logan's cold heart. It was almost like Roman was shaming his addiction of Crofter's or that's what it felt like. Logan took a quick glance at his own stomach before replying. He had tried to hide what amount of weight he had gained since Thomas had found Crofter's, but he wasn't sure if he was successful. And the fact Roman had only given him one jar, raised his suspicions that the prince had found out. "For your information Roman, if you had given me more than one jar, then I wouldn't have to steal from your own collection." Logan replied coolly.

Logan heard Roman scoff, as he jumped off of the couch and begin to stride towards him. "But even you know I have my limits in conjuring objects. You should be grateful you even got one!" Roman yawned into his hand before he reached the logical aspect in front of him.

"The only limits you have is your respect for others." Logan sneered at the side in front of him. It was morning and he was not having any of Princey's crap, especially with this new found sense of insecurity that had been creeping up on him for weeks now.

Roman stopped his gait a yard from Logan and frowned. "I do too have respect for others! If there's anyone who doesn't have respect, it's you for my stuff!" Roman pointed accusingly at the held Crofter's jar that still had the logical aspect's saliva covered spoon it. "Speaking of stuff, hand it over!"

Logan, without breaking eye contact with Roman, dipped his spoon into the jar, scooped out a heaping mound, and shoved it into his mouth, practically taunting Roman with his physical answer.

"Why you...! Give it here!" Roman rushed a hand to grab it from Logan, but the logical aspect was quick to maneuver out of the prince's way, and quickly shoved another spoonful in his mouth.

"I am eating right out of this Roman. Are you sure you want to share germs?" Roman gaped as he regained his footing.

"Excuse me Mr. We-are-the-same-person! I want my damn Crofter's jar back!" He lunged at Logan only to miss again and crash into the refrigerator, causing a couple magnets to fall off.

"You have five others in your cupboard specifically made for Crofter's! Get one of those!" Logan made his way over to said Crofter's jar cabinet and motioned to all five of them. "Are you having trouble counting my dear prince?" Logan began to tease lightly.

Roman growled and whined at the same time, backing Logan into a corner of the kitchen. "But I don't want to open one that's already opened! You gotta share with meeee!"

"Well did you share with me? I believe it's only fair when the rich share with the poor." Logan began holding the jar out of Roman's reach, chuckling slightly at Roman's antics.

"What are you Patton now?!" Roman yelled frustratingly, trying and failing to grab the jar from Logan's hands. But, he gradually stopped trying when his gaze had switched to Logan's unprotected armpit. The logical aspect could practically see the wheels turning in Roman's head as he was coming up with a plan.

"Logan? Are you ticklish?" The word widened Logan's eyes as he quickly yanked his arm down and made a jump to the left shoving, Roman out of the way.

"Absolutely not!" Logan took another step backward, panicking that Roman was actually thinking about resorting to that to get the oh so precious half gone Crofter's jar back.

"I think your reaction begs to differ." It was Roman's turn to chuckle as he ran at Logan who, quickly ran behind the other end of the island counter in the middle of the kitchen. It was then the two sides began to play chicken around it.

"Give me the Crofter's Logan! And I promise I won't tickle you!" Roman and Logan were stalemating on either side of the counter, waiting for the other to make a move first.

"That's a worse lie than any of Deceit's!" Logan quickly looked for a way past the prince quickly spotting the entrance of the corridor to the common's off to the left. He ran towards it, only looking back to check if Roman was following him, which to his confusion he wasn't. It gave Logan a false sense of security, because just as he was about to run into the Commons, a certain shadowy figure of a prince rose up catching the logical aspect by surprise and by his arms.

"Aaaah!" Logan's voice cracked as he yelped when he smashed his nose directly into Roman's chest. His fear was only confirmed by the deep chuckle emanating from Roman's throat.

"R-Roman. Don't..." But his plea was dismissed by the creative aspect hoisting Logic up onto his shoulders with a hefty scoop. "R-Roman no! I-PUT ME DOWN! Fine! Ill put it down. See?! See? I put the jar down! Now release me!" Logan set the Crofter's jar on the closest table that Roman passed by on his way to the Commons. He continued to squirm, hoping Roman would take pity on him, but to no avail.

"Ah wonderful. Im glad I can finish it later. But for now, I'm more interested in this ticklish theory that you seem so insistent to decline, nerd." Roman smirked as he felt Logan's fists beat helplessly against his back as he carried him through the violent squirms, all the way to one of the couches in the commons. Upon arriving, the prince quickly dropped the nerd onto said couch and quickly sat on him, preventing escape.

Logan struggled underneath the prince's weight, but at this point he knew he was done for. His gaze wandered up to Roman's eyes which sparkled with mischief, as the prince was quick to pin his hands under his knees. "Comfortable?"

"Absolutely not." Logan gritted out. "You knew...You knew I was gaining weight and this is how you decide to 'help' me?!" Roman looked quite taken aback at this outburst.

"Help you...what?"

"Don't play dumb Roman. You gave yourself all the Crofter's because you saw how addicted I was. Well you certainly aren't helping me now, by holding me down and...tickling me against my will. I'll just face the facts because I can't win against you. Not with Thomas's Chemical Engineering degree, and certainly not with any of this!" Logan spat.

Roman quickly let go of his hands, seeing Logan had reached his breaking point. "What...what on earth are you talking about? I didn't notice you had gained weight! And if I did this is hardly the way I'd reveal that sort of information to you, Logan." The prince did take a quick glance at the logical aspect's belly, he hadn't noticed until just now that it was slightly pudgier than what he remembered.

"Is that so?" Roman could see small tears forming behind the dark rims of Logan's glasses. "Well the history of your actions say otherwise." Roman scratched his head, unknowing of what to do in the situation. At this point it looked as if Logic could be shattered with so much of a wrong word on the Prince's part. And it only reminded Roman of his own negative thinking and what he's been doing to himself. It was no wonder why Logan took something without asking. He wanted to prove a point.

"Well. What are you going to say? That I'm a hypocrite for not following my own health plan? You might as well because it's a fact."

"It's not a fact, Logan." Roman finally said. "It's actually a falsehood. Weaknesses are common in everyone. In every human and in every aspect of every human. I know because I have many of these weaknesses myself and they are hard to accept. One of them is how I look and I knew if I was in your shoes I would be just as distraught. But do believe me when I say I wouldn't go that far to shame you. Especially if it was about something that we both love. We are a part of the same person Logan. Despite how much we fight, I still care enough not to do that to you. Because you do have some feelings, whether you want to admit it or not."

Logan groaned at the thought of feelings, but shoved the thought off as he searched Roman's face for sincerity. "So...you...do not think any less of me?"

"How could I Logan? You are still my equal. Although we continue to one-up each other it's not for reputations sake. Well...maybe it's partially for reputations sake, but it's also because we have differing opinions and we want those opinions to be heard no matter what. Nothing's changed between us. I am honest to god sure of that."

Roman watched Logan as relief filled his body. "I...apologize for jumping to a conclusion. I was mostly peeved because I thought you had noticed."

"Not at all Logan. I promise that's not why I didn't get you more than one jar. I was honestly..." Roman noticeably gulped as he did his best to swallow is pride. "...honestly just being a jerk." And wanting your attention. Roman wanted to add that last part, but he kept it to himself knowing Logan would absolutely refuse any attempts at courting if he was in this state of mind.

Logan chuckled and wiped away the small tears that had almost formed in his eyes. "At least we can both agree on that."

"Hey! I still have you captured, I'll have you know!" Roman growled, this time a little more playfully.

"Yes about that, can you let me go now?" Logan struggled once again in the prince's grasp.

Roman rubbed his chin. "Hmmm...now that I think about it I'm not sure I want to. You have gotten a bit of meat on your stomach, yes?"

"Yes...?"

"And you are quite insecure about it..."

"......yes..."

"But what if I told you, you didn't have to be?"

"What?" Logan's eyes went wide as Roman began peeling up his shirt. "Wait! Wait what are you doing?" Roman caught Logan's hands as they tried to push his shirt back down, and he began admiring his stomach.

"Oh that's adorable. See here Logan, there are tons of college professors and scientists that have this sort of tum and even more. And are they treated any different by their students and peers?" Roman began to soothingly rub Logan's tummy in circles, feeling the slightly loose skin move underneath his hands.

"Ye-well...um...I suppose not...but...I don't want to be compared to Patton. I'm not cute like him, I'm supposed to be seheherious. Don't tickle." Roman stopped rubbing to look Logan dead in the eyes.

"Aha! So you are ticklish!" Roman began to pick up the speed on his stomach.

"N-no! That's not what I said." Logan tried again to protect himself, but this time it was a half-hearted attempt, and Roman could tell.

"But it's what you meant. People only ask to 'not tickle' if they are ticklish themselves! Isn't that right my dearest professor?" Roman was now drawing soft circles on his sides causing Logan to arch his back and guffaw out a strained chuckle.

"Nngh fine! I am. I'd better be getting a second Crofter's jar after this." Roman chuckled at Logan's attempts at hiding his giggles that were threatening to spring forth.

"It depends on how much tickling you want to withstand. How about this. You let me tell you all the great things about having a belly like yours, and I will give you two more Crofter's jars." Roman's hands slowed, giving Logan enough brain power to think.

"This doesn't include the one I've already eaten out of does it?" Roman groaned and rolled his eyes. "Fiiiinnneee. No it doesn't." Logan gave just a bit more thought.

"Alright. Make it quick though." Roman smirked as he leaned closer to his now accepting captive.

"Why would I make it quick? Tickles like these are meant to be enjoyed." Roman pressed in a little, now rubbing the sides of his stomach with his thumbs.

"Ehehenjoyed!?" Logan tried to stop his hands from going to protect his belly from Roman's onslaught.

"Well yes. Especially when I'm showing you, that a serious teacher like you doesn't need to be embarrassed about something as cute as this." Roman gave his tummy a gentle poke allowing a small giggle to escape Logan's lips.

"See? That's the first thing! Adorable giggles from adorable tickles. Sometimes pudge like this can make you even more ticklish than you already are." Roman began softly rapid poking his belly, sides, and ribs all over.

"Thahahats nohot a peheherk!" Logan was now squirming, finding Roman's actions both ridiculous and intriguing at the same time.

"It is if someone were to enjoy that sweet sweet laughter of yours! Like I do. And yes I do intend to hear more of it. Now, another great thing about having a belly is the amount of warmth you give off!! And all that warmth is just great for hugs." Roman pressed his hands against Logan's tummy and squeezed lightly, sending a jolt through Logan's body.

"Noho! I'm nohot Patton! Patton's the ohohohonly one that gihiHIVES HUHUGS! STAHAP!" Roman thought, continuing to squeeze the entrapped sides up and down relishing in the small squeaks he was getting from him in each pinch.

"Well Virgil would say otherwise. He's told me the hugs you give are grounded in reality and to him that is very comforting. And isn't Logic supposed to ground the rest of the aspects in reality?" Logan was smiling too much to pout, otherwise he would have.

"I hahate whehehehen youhho are rihihihght."

"No you don't!" Roman teased in a sing song voice as his fingers moved to pluck Logan's ribs lightly. "You just might maybe, possibly, slightly dislike it. But you also don't like being wrong, which is one of those weaknesses that we talked about earlier. But lately, you've done good at accepting that we are all part of a human who has faults himself. And for that I am proud of you Logan." Had Logan not been laughing so much, he would have made a sarcastic Disney reference that would have offended Roman more than anything else.

Roman continued smirking through his onslaught on Logan's stomach. "Ah! Another thing a tum is good for is more room for Crofter's!" He paused when Logan gave a slight glare through his laughter. "Alright alright! I won't do that again! I promise! I swear an oath on my sword. I'll move on to the next piece of evidence. It's good for a pillow!" Roman stopped his tickling to lay his head right on Logan's stomach, dramatically humming in content. "Ah so warm..."

"Youho ahare ridiculous..." Logan gave a small gasp as Roman cupped his love handles and continued using him as a pillow. "Are we quite finished?" Roman giggled.

"Hee hee nope!" The fingers on his sides quickly shot up into Logan's unprotected underarms and began wiggling in his armpits. "My you are just ticklish all over! More giggles for me!"

"Thihihis isshihint evehehehn pahahahart of Myhihihi abdohomehehen!!!"

"True! But, your laughter is so addicting I cannot get enough of it!" Roman took a glance at where his head was laying on Logan's stomach. "Hmmm...say Logan? Do you happen to know what a raspberry is?" Logan's eyes went wide with fear.

"Thahahahat ihihis a tahahactic used in CHILdren. NOT ohon serious adults!" Roman hummed again and took his hand out of one Logan's armpits and began swirling around the rim of his belly button with the pointer finger.

"Hmm...I think you want one." Roman teased grinning up at him from his chin's resting place on his stomach.

"DOOHOHO NOHOHOT!" Logan pushed at Roman's face, but it was too late. The prince had already blown a couple raspberries all around the logical aspects tummy. He was about to deliver one to Logan's navel, when he thought better of it.

"Say Logan is your bellybutton ticklish?" Logan shook his head violently, too overcome with giggles to accurately respond.

"Hee hee. You sure, because I'ma touch it!"

"Noho! Do not!" Logan fought against Roman's tickle attempts half-heartedly.

"I'm gonna press the button!" Roman lowered his finger teasingly to Logan's dip.

"Nahaha! Stahahahap!!" Roman slid his other hand to Logan's side to distract him from pushing his finger out of the way.

"I'm going to boop it!" Roman lowered his finger more, grinning as Logan was quite literally flailing with anticipation. The prince decided to end it quick.

(Credited to @royal-sanders beautiful artistry)

"Boop!" He shot his finger the rest of the way into Logan's navel and began to wiggle gently. Logan quickly snorted and dissolved into higher pitched giggles than normal.

"Ahh!! So it is ticklish!! Tickle tickle tickle!" Roman picked up the pace on his swirling finger noticing how pink Logan's cheeks were getting as he tried to cover up his own blushing face. "Daww...none of that Logi Bear. You can't be that embarrassed about this tickle spot that much can you?"

"Stahap teahahahsing youho MOHOHOROHN!" Roman gasped at the name.

"Moron! Though I am proud of you for learning the correct terminology and using it at the right time, but I am no moron! I oughta punish you for that! And what will it be? Oh I know!" Roman lowered his face again and held his lips right above Logan's belly button. The logical aspect quickly shook his head, the eyes sparkling with laughter were betraying his actual movement.

All too soon, Roman blew the biggest and fattest raspberry on his belly button, once again throwing Logan into giggly hysterics. It was then Roman decided that Logan had enough and began to rub the tickly feelings away, continuing to admire the pudge in the process.

"And a final thing that's good about pudge?" Logan rested his head against sofa arm, panting as he watched Roman's final movements. "There's more of you to kiss for a future romantic partner." Roman bent down and kissed his stomach once causing the breathless Logan to raise an eyebrow.

"Fuhuhuture romantic partner? Roman, Virgil and Patton are already dating. I have no chance with anyone else." Roman made a strangled sound with his throat.

"Excuse me!? What am I? Chopped liver!? I am sitting directly on you!" Logan onced Roman over.

"I am aware, but your actions especially today have shown me you are more annoyed with me than...the other thing..."

"Its called "Trying to get someone's attention" Nerd! Never heard of it? Yes I was being a jerk, but I also...wanted your eyes on me." Roman muttered out the last part quietly as if he was the one embarrassed about his actions now.

"Roman, if you want my attention depriving me of Crofter's just so I can steal it and have a cognitive distortion of my own is not the best way to do it." Logan folded his arms across his chest giving Roman a 'Look-who's-right-now?' sort of glare.

"I know! I know." Roman hung his head. "But I redeemed myself didn't I?" He looked up to Logan who seemed like he was in deep thought.

"Perhaps...I havent decided yet."

"What do you mean perhaps?! I just don't want to lose this chance I have with you." Roman pouted and reluctantly moved off Logan to sit on the couch next to him, for which Logan was eternally grateful.

"You haven't Roman. At least not yet. But, now that I know you hold certain romantic feelings for me, I need to figure out what I myself...ugh...feel."

"So you don't dislike me? Even after all that?" The Prince winced waiting for Logan's answer.

"I am more annoyed than anything. But despite all that, there might be something there...I just need time Roman." Roman nodded hopefully.

"Then time is something I can give you!"

"Wonderful." Logan deadpanned. "I do want to thank you for helping me see past what I had originally thought about myself, and also for...I guess making me laugh." Logan reluctantly shared the last part of his confession with the prince. "It doesn't happen as often as it should. Just don't do it every day, or in front of the others."

Roman chuckled happily. "Alright alright. I'll have mercy on you."

"Thanks." Logan replied sarcastically, the small smile on his face betraying the tone of his voice. "Now that that's all out of the way, may I have my reward no-?" Roman put a finger to his lips, shushing him.

"Soon. Soon my dear Logan. I don't want to get up right now."

"That's alright. I can get myself." The logical aspect made a move to get off the couch but was pulled back down by Roman.

"Nuuuuu! Stay with me!!! I'm lonely and want to cuddle. If you leave with the Crofter's jars I won't see you again until lunch! And maybe not even then because your belly will be full!" Logan rolled his eyes but sat back down and let the Fanciful aspect engulf him in a hug from behind. They were soon laying down across the couch with Roman spooning Logan and planting kisses along his neck.

It's not that Logan didn't like the shower of affection, it just felt odd that the mightier of the aspects would choose him as a romantic partner. Ever since Logan found Crofter's, the logical aspect had been slightly worried about his appearance as he continued to eat more. But if he had someone to share that love of Crofter's and the small insecurities he had with, managing his loves and fixations might become a little easier.

Taglist: @violetmcl @shadowkittycat97 @chituri (Let me know if you want to be on or off my taglist!)

[ais-n]

So...how do you know a therapist is for you? I went to my first therapy session and maybe it’s because i hate talking about my feelings but i couldn’t open up. Any tips from you or anyone please and thanks

Everyone else, please respond on this if you have any thoughts or feedback!

I’ve talked to a friend about this topic before. This friend said to give it one or two sessions just to have them talk to you, but if anything they say makes you uncomfortable, find someone else. Not every therapist will be a good fit. This friend gave an example of how they had gone to multiple therapists but there was really only one person who seriously pissed them off and they decided to not continue with this person. My friend said to trust yourself, and if what the therapist says is something you feel is wrong and does not fit with you, then you don’t need to stay with this therapist. They may simply not be right for you.

A real therapist will listen to you, try to understand you, and not make you conform to something preconceived.

I agree with my friend, who says a lot of the same things I would have. I have a lot more to say but I put it behind a cut for length. See below or click this link to be brought to the post if that doesn’t work.

For me, I’ve really technically only seen two therapists - I definitely need to find another one. The first person was my only option because it was during college and there was like, one therapist. I liked her, but the interesting thing is that what she helped me with the most wasn’t even anything verbal; it was more like, one of the times I was talking to her about things I thought were super casual and normal, the expression on her face (though she quickly hid it) made me realize what I’d said was actually super fucked up. Not fucked up toward other people, fucked up toward myself. I didn’t continue to see her super long because of various reasons but she helped. 

The other therapist I saw was years later, and I was recommended by a friend who was already seeing her. I felt like this therapist was instantly better for me than the first one simply by point of fact that this was out of her home, and she had this huge shaggy dog who came into the office with her, and laid on my feet while I talked. Being that I’m a HUGE dog lover, this was a massive bonus for me, but of course if I hadn’t liked dogs she would have kept the dog outside. Eventually I stopped seeing her mostly for financial reasons, and because I didn’t want to follow through with her recommendations at the time (ironically, I realize in retrospect that she gave me super good advice that was proven to be true earlier this year). I continued to like her, though. 

Now, I need to find someone else but have been putting it off (mostly for financial and time commitments) and I’m sure when I finally go, I will run into the same question as you.

I think there are a couple of factors to consider. 

First, are you uncomfortable with this specific therapist, or are you uncomfortable with therapy itself? 

If talking about yourself is what is making you unsure if the therapist is the right fit, then I would say give it a few more times. I’m chatty af and will tell all sorts of people all sorts of shit about myself, but even I get awkward the first few times in therapy, and suddenly have no idea wtf to say, or what’s interesting or important, or more. I start telling myself I’m wasting this therapist’s time, taking time away from more important people, that I’m doing a disservice to the world by being here, etc etc etc. Which makes it harder to know what to say. So if you aren’t naturally talkative like I am, I can totally see how it would feel even stronger for you at first. But in that case, no matter who you are with, you will first feel that reluctance. That’s totally okay. I suspect absolutely everyone feels that. Give it a couple of sessions to get more of a feel for the therapist. They should be able to give you some sort of guidance if needed… my experience is the first session or two, I feel like the therapist is pretty quiet to sort of feel you out, and see if it’s something where they should be asking you questions to prompt your thoughts, or if you’ll provide information on your own. This therapist you’re seeing may be doing that and you may find by the third session that you start to feel a little bit more aware of the dynamic, and from there can see what you think.

On the other hand, if it’s this therapist themselves who are making you uncomfortable or feel awkward or unwelcome or anything else, it may simply be this isn’t the right therapist for you. If they are making you feel like there’s something wrong with you, or that you aren’t saying the “right” things, then their approach may not be the sort of approach you would want or need. In that scenario, I would recommend checking if there’s another option.

If that ends up happening, another thing I think you should do is make sure that if you do have any special circumstances, this therapist is someone who ideally might be more versed in that. For example, a reason I’ve been putting off finding a new therapist is because I specifically would like to find someone who is LGBT-friendly, ideally also asexual-friendly, and who understands eating disorders and can help me with those issues. I’ve mostly managed to figure shit out with my mostly-former anorexia issues on my own, but I can recognize that some of my behaviors are still tied into that, and I think I need help. But finding a lesbian-friendly ED-versed licensed therapist who’s in my area, has office hours and a location I’m fine with and may be covered by my insurance is a bitch, let alone throwing ace factors into the equation.

What I’ve been doing is going on websites that let me search for those sorts of criteria, getting the names of potential therapists, looking them up on review sites, looking at the place they work and determining if it feels okay to me, and then whatever other research or review searching I can think of. By the way, if you didn’t already (I’m sure this was already covered but just being thorough), make sure the therapist is legit and licensed.

The biggest thing is don’t feel like there’s a right or wrong way to be in therapy. If you have trouble opening up, that’s extremely natural IMO for the first session or even first few sessions. It takes some time to get a feel for the person, and to determine internally if you feel like you can trust them with your vulnerability. There’s definitely going to be some inherent hesitation, in my experience, in the beginning. But the therapist also needs to not make you feel unworthy or unwanted or uninteresting. If you are coming away feeling negative about everything because of difficult topics arising and recommendations you don’t want to follow (not because you think they’re wrong but rather because you just don’t want to do it right now) then it could mean the therapy is working for you and it’s just going through the topics which are the reason you’re attending in the first place. But if, instead, the negativity is tied into you feeling judged by the therapist, then that is not the therapy you should probably be in and you may need to find someone who fits your needs better. 

You, of course, will know that better than me… because it’s possible you do want a little bit of judgment, if there’s a scenario where that’s healthy for you. Example being when my first therapist had a visible reaction that I could have interpreted as her judging me, but it was the fact that a therapist responded that way after otherwise having been neutral and open, that made me really stop and dissect what I had said to get her to react like that. So in that example, a moment of possible-judgment was very helpful for me. But if she had been judging me the entire time, it would have been very bad for me because I was already feeling like I was really pushing myself to go in the first place. I might have come away with a bad connotation for therapy if my first experience had been different. I may never have sought therapy again.

The other thing I want to say is if you continue with this therapist and it seems fine enough but you don’t feel like you’re having any breakthroughs, you may still want to consider whether it makes the most sense to continue with this therapist or try someone new. I have gone my entire life thinking general practitioner doctors are fine enough, not hating my experiences but never really feeling that connected. I thought that was how it always was with doctors so I never switched. But this year, I went to a new specialized doctor and instantly, I realized there’s actually the capability to click with a doctor and have them clearly care about you, and even work hard to understand the things going on with you even if you have my personality of trying to downplay everything. I love her so much that I’m switching my entire network on my insurance as soon as I can for her network instead, because she’s made a massive fucking difference in how I view my health and feeling like I have someone who has my back. I don’t know if the same thing could happen with therapists, but just in case it can I wanted to mention that. 

Ultimately, the therapist is there to help you get through the things that brought you in in the first place. If you end up there for many, many sessions and you don’t feel like you’re making progress, try reassessing. Are you actually making progress but it feels like you aren’t because you want things to go faster, but in fact you’re laying really good foundation slowly for the future? Or did you never fully click with the therapist and you’re both in sort of a holding pattern that can’t properly move forward for whatever reason?

For that reason, my personal view is that unless the therapist is someone who makes you feel judged and like there’s something inherently wrong with you because of whatever of your circumstances or responses, then keep going to the same therapist until you have been able to give both the therapist and yourself the chance and time to try to adjust to each other. That will give you not only a better view for if you want to stay with this therapist, but also what to look for if you decide to switch. You will now have more criteria you can search for in your next therapist, to try to get the right fit for you.

Regardless, you are super awesome for going to therapy in the first place! Really good job on that! Especially if it’s your first time! It’s scary to do it, and it takes a lot of courage, and you are absolutely a badass for going to that first session. You are a badass even more for then following it up with not immediately saying “this isn’t working for me, I’m done” and instead trying to ask others what their experience is, so you can figure out your way forward. For someone who finds it difficult to talk about your feelings or open up, you are doing a frickin fantastic job and whether or not this sounds dorky af, I just want you to know I’m proud of you :) 

There definitely is the right therapist out there for you. Whether it turns out to be this therapist, or whether you find a few sessions from now it’s not, the person is out there who can help you. My sincere hope for you is that you don’t give up before you find that out or find them, because that would be akin to giving up on yourself. And I never want anyone to do that. We all deserve to fight our best for ourselves, to be heard and seen, and most importantly: to be understood.