#I need more Neal always.

[wanderingandfound]

The thing with reading books vs like, fanfiction for the medium-to-huge-fandoms, is that there is a finite amount of each character's page time and an even more finite amount of character interactions. Whereas I could spend my entire life reading about (more and more bastardized and flanderized) versions of popular characters hanging out with each other.

[firebirdsdaughter]

So bc I saw a post and I’m paranoid/self conscious…

… Allow me to explain what I mean about Peter (and Neal) being out of character in s5.

A lot of it is tone—Peter just feels more dismissive and indifferent of Neal than even in the first season. It’s like their relationship went backwards a bit, or that he feels more like Kramer? I dunno exactly how to describe, but there’s scenes where just something missing and he’s too harsh and detached and it feels like it’s forced. Like he just doesn’t feel like he’s taking Neal’s feelings as seriously as he usually does. He’s not the same type of gruff fatherly as before. He’ll just suddenly start treating Neal like just an asset or something. As for the whole forged evidence/bribing thing, though… It’s not him being upset that’s out of character. Of course he’s upset, and angry, and conflicted. That first argument is beautifully painful, bc of course Neal refuses to back down, and that moment where he just holds out his hands to let Peter arrest him… Gah. Peter’s always been very by the book, and while he’s bent those rules and covered for Neal… It’s never been something like this. Never case tampering. This is serious. This could come back to bite them years down the road. So of course he’s mad, especially bc it was for him. He’s been trying to keep Neal out of crime, and now here’s the kid committing it for him. What’s ooc to me, is him telling Neal he did it bc he’s ‘just a criminal.’ That’s not my Peter Burke. My Peter would ask for space as he tries to decide how he feels/what to do. As he tries to reconcile w/ himself what has happened. ‘I know you did this for me and that’s why it’s so upsetting.’ But never that. It’s just a blatant example of Peter being forced to treat Neal worse to ‘justify’ Neal’s bratty behaviour.

Which brings me to Neal—oh my gods is he a whiny brat in s5. I hate the way he treats Peter like Peter is deliberately holding out on him and acts all righteous bc Peter… Won’t let him do whatever he wants. If Neal were distancing himself from Peter bc of his father, that’d be one thing, but every time he starts whining about Peter not magically producing the results he wants, or starts going on about how he should just be allowed to take shit ‘bc it’s there’ like an entitled brat… I just wanna smack him. I feel like he also regresses to just wanting the cheap thrill of taking things, when it feels like a more realistic progression for his character would be finding more moral, less self centred reasons to do so. Neal realising that Peter’s fighting a losing battle for him w. the FBI and risking his own job, Neal seeing how horribly tortured Peter is by his action in getting him out. After the discovery about his father, I’d believe Neal seeing the negative impacts of his presence in his loved one’s lives a whole lot more than the positives. I can see him falling into the trap of thinking he can’t change and he’s just hurting the people around him, trying to take matters into his own hands not bc he’s throwing a hissy fit that Peter can’t magically make other people do things, but bc he’s actually considering others and realises what kind of issues lobbying for him has caused Peter and El and everyone else.

There’s plenty of opportunity for drama and tension w/out forcing them both to be jerks to each other. Like I made a post about what I think a better course would have been Neal considering other people for once and how his actions effect them—Neal realising that his philosophies are actively hurting the people around him, and being in a such a bad place he doesn’t realise that they’re okay weathering it to have him around. I will go down w/ the ship that there’s a missed opportunity in killing off Warren Cole and not having Neal start to think about how easily that could have happened to Peter bc of him. There’s still good moments, absolutely, I can name several, like Peter being protective of Neal when there’s a sniper, or when Neal is shot by the sniper, but periodically, both Neal and Peter suddenly start being shallow jerks bc the writers are rushing and looking for conflict. And that’s not right to me.

[omegalomania]

the full apple music interview with zane lowe is out! we got snippets of it when love from the other side dropped, but they finally rolled out the full thing. here are some highlights that stood out to me :)

patrick describes pete's lyrics as what gets him out of bed in the morning. if pete doesn't send him lyrics, he doesn't write a song.

andy and pete used to draw fake snake tattoos on each other using magic markers as kids omg?

so evidently patrick was the one who got covid during hella mega tour. and he hated it and he was miserable and that's when he called neal avron about the new record lmao

patrick says that joe was hesitant at first and he was the one who said that for this record he wanted to make something that they could all savor and spend time on and patrick was immediately on board with that

pete says patrick's job is to interpret him because pete calls his mentality a "little bit off" but patrick is capable of understanding him and translating it

patrick describes his and pete's creative relationship as "twin speak." it's not linear and it's like living in his brain a little bit. he calls it the "weirdest thing i've ever seen" when pete can just Tell that some words that patrick adjusted weren't ones he wrote despite not remembering writing them. patrick says he's gotten better at connective tissue and knowing how pete would say things

pete: back in the day patrick was like, "what's the difference between cry and weep i will KILL YOU. THEY'RE THE SAME THING. I'M GONNA KILL YOU RIGHT NOW."

zane says patrick's vocals are next level for this album. pete agrees that he kills it on this album and said he never would've expected that voice coming from him when they first met. zane says patrick could sing a recipe and it would be good. he then passes patrick a recipe and patrick. sings it???

patrick: i'm not gonna belt it. (starts belting) NINE INCH PIE PLATE ROLLING PIN

patrick says that pete doesn't mean to have rhythm to his words but there's a rhythm to them all the same and patrick can find this syncopation in his words and thinks it's amazing

more talking about patrick and pete's Magical Mystical Transcendent Soul Bond. patrick says "if we were one guy, we'd be an INCREDIBLE DUDE"

patrick and pete say that interviews with all four of them are hard because it's chaos and everyone's talking at once but it all makes perfect sense to them and no one else. zane says that sounds like fun flkjdfd [i agree please do this more it's a joy]

pete says joe really stepped up and wrote a lot for this record!

patrick: "joe is kind of a conundrum because he's this really talented...he's a brilliant writer, a brilliant player, but pete and i became the "team" and it wasn't really a plan, but that's just kind of how it happened. [brief tangent about the hiatus] we come back from the thing and joe is this fully-formed writer with a very distinct - he has one of the most distinctive writing voices. when i hear his parts, when i hear his ideas, i could pick them out of a crowd. like i know the way joe writes, and it's VERY joe." part of the process with post-hiatus was integrating him into the writing process more.

discussing the hiatus and fame and pete says his life kind of "blew up" and took it pretty hard. apparently during production for folie paparazzi actually broke down the gate to neal avron's house

patrick goes on a big tangent about how bad things got during the height of pete's fame. "part of my role is to tell his story. i'm a composer. that's what i like to do. i work on movies, i work on shows, and i work on pete. pete has a story that needs music, and if he's removed from himself, if he's not even able to access himself because he's behind all of this stuff, i don't have a story! so not only did i not have my buddy, which was heartbreaking in its own way, but then i also don't have a purpose as an artist."

patrick says that andy is always ready to play but when you get him happy to play, it's another level

"and trohman, there were these moments where he...he got so excited."

patrick describes writing what a time to be alive as wanting to write the saddest, most desperate song you could hear at a wedding. pete bursts into laughter and calls it "so twisted"

talking about other endeavors outside the band - patrick talks about composing and said joe's been super busy with his book and writing for tv and because there are so many deadlines for stuff like that, it's what hammered home to him that fall out boy needs to not be that. "there's something special about this that can't be...this has to be passionate and art."

discussing how scared patrick was of his own voice while the band took off. patrick was really scared of the song saturday at first because there are some really exposed vocal moments. he describes saturday as a song where everyone in the band lets each other go for it.

zane calls fall out boy the "emo blueprint" and says they were unapologetic in being emotional. patrick immediately says, "that was pete. i don't think we could've done that without him." he and joe were basically kids and patrick was too anxious to talk on stage.

zane says, "i remember interviewing you in the early days and i felt like every time i asked you a question i was bullying you." pete IMMEDIATELY loses his shit.

"in another life where i didn't have a pete...cause saturday, i did write most of that by myself...so there's a world where that song exists without the band. there's no world where i sing it in front of people without pete."

pete says every night before they put out a new song he calls patrick up and gets really scared and wants to back out and patrick talks him down every time

they talk about how scary it was when arm's race released and performing it at the amas. patrick starts laughing rly hard as they get into how there were giant crickets on stage and the crowd was just stone-faced and utterly nonresponsive and their stage manager was utterly panicked

towards the end patrick really loosens up and starts swearing more dlkfjdfd

[dried-mushroom]

Can you do a younger sister of Neal X Lee Russel. Lee not caring being caught, always flirts with her and hits on her and Neal gets protective not knowing they’re secretly sleeping with each other. It would be funny to see how he would react at the end if he were to walk in on them.😂

Thanks, Pookie for another Lee Russell fic please keep it coming yall :)

Warnings: Neal Gamby & public sex

Goddamn it Gamby!

Lee Russell x female reader

You sometimes hated being the younger sister to one of the vice principals of North Jackson High School, Neal always got on other teacher's nerves, making your ability to befriend other teachers pretty much impossible, not to mention it resulted in attempting to keep your secret relationship with Neal's coworker and nonetheless rival, Lee Russell. Ever since your brother got you a job teaching English at the high school a year ago, you had been enamoured with Lee. He was such a sweetheart with you, not bothering to hide his attraction to you, not that you ever tell Neal that, he would be more likely to kill Lee then you.

It hadn't even been a month before he was whispering sweet nothings in your ear, not a care who was near, one instance it was your free final period on Friday and Lee had accidentally wandered into your classroom, leaning against the doorframe, a smirk pulling on his lips.

"Oh well hello miss l/n, I did not at all expect you to be here. Now why don't you bring your sweet little ass on over to me."

With that southern drawl of his, you couldn't resist and ran your way over to him, calloused hands sharply gripping your waist as you kissed him deeply, whilst he pulled you closer to him, feeling the rather large tent in his borderline ugly khakis. Your naive older brother who was coincidently walking past and caught the act, assumed you had no part in it, so he abruptly pulled Lee off of you.

"What the fuck Russell? Why the fuck are you trying to make out with MY SISTER? She does not want your weird ass."

You rolled your eyes at him, he seriously needed a reality check or a slap in the face, you can sleep with anyone you feel like and it is none of Neal's concern. Especially considering less than 4 hours prior, Lee had taken you from behind against a tree in the forest behind the school, and you loved every second of it. Lee gave him a pissy look and briskly walked out, not wanting to deal with Neal and presumably handle his frustration.

A week after this confrontation, nothing had changed, you and Lee kept the same routine, subtly flirting and groping with one another during school, he couldn't resist a hand on the small of your back or a thigh when in meetings or in the staffrooms. It was another Friday final period, and you had no classes to teach as it was your planning period and you were bored out of your mind. You fidgeted with your hands as you couldn't be bothered to write up lessons at the moment. Suddenly, you read a simple text that dinged from your phone;

"Baby, meet me in the woods in 10 ;)"

You eagerly typed away "Don't be late handsome."

You were so glad you had decided to wear a dress today, the hot summer sun being the excuse of course. You quickly ran off to the staffroom toilet to freshen up, brush your h/c hair and fix your makeup. Making sure you wouldn't get caught, you slipped out of the back of the school and rushed across the school oval, not wanting to miss one second.

You finally reached your meeting place, obscured by trees, with only an unused railroad nearby. You sat patiently on a log, waiting for Lee to show. Once you heard the crunch of dead leaves, you straightened yourself up and there he was, a grin on his face.

"Sorry baby for being a tad late, Smith was holding me up, now c'mere so I can make it to you."

You didn't waste a millisecond getting up and sauntering over to him. He roughly pushed you against the nearest tree, his lips crashed onto yours, whilst his hands were busy groping your chest through your dress. His touch sent shivers down your spine. You wrapped an arm around his neck, trying to taste more of him, whilst another went to the crotch of Lee's pants, rubbing over the painfully apparent erection hidden beneath. He moaned in your mouth but clearly, he had enough of the teasing and broke away, sitting against the log, he tapped his thigh.

"Before you make me cream my pants just by looking' at you. Come on over and ride me, cowgirl."

You could feel yourself getting wetter and your breath hitched as he started unbuckling his belt and pulled out his cock, flushed and precum beading at the tip, making your mouth water at the sight. You pulled your panties to the side and he guided you down onto his cock, his hands gripping your waist hard, you grabbed onto his broad shoulders as leverage to sink lower. Once he was fully inside you, he let out a hiss, relishing in the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing him. He moved one of his hands underneath your pretty dress to rub little circles on your clit as you started to bounce on his cock.

You loved seeing him like this, vulnerable, underneath you, his pleasure at your mercy, you got lost in pleasure as you continued riding Lee.

"Oh my fucking god, your pussy is perfect for me, squeezing me so fuckin' good. Fuck we gotta do this more baby, I ain't gonna las-"

"OH FUCK NO"

You both immediately tensed up as you recognised that voice. Lee mumbled under his breath; 'goddamn it Gamby always ruining my fun.'

"What the fuck Russell? Are you seriously fucking my sister? I saw you going to woods and I thought this was a meeting between you and me about y'know but no apparently."

Since Lee's back was to Neal, he didn't even bother turning around to look at him, annoyed at this easily preventable interruption.

"Well, Gamby what does it look like? and in what world would I just want you to creepily follow me into the woods, Jesus Christ."

You couldn't help but laugh against Lee's shoulder, hiding your embarrassed face in his neck.

"Oh hell no, you're not off the hook either y/n, get off of him and get your ass straight back to planning."

You could not believe the audacity this man has, considering he had Abbott blowing him in a supply closet not too long ago.

"Excuse me? I am a grown-ass adult and can sleep with whomever whenever wherever I want. You don't get to control me because you're my older brother. Now please leave so we can finish, or would you prefer we both come back inside so he can bend me over his desk?"

The stunned look on Neal's face made you feel proud. He just mumbled 'Whatever' and walked himself back to the school. You felt your ass being grabbed harshly and Lee roughly whispered in your ear,

"Now that's my girl, now how about we get back to what we started."

The end

I'm sorry this one is so short!

Thanks for reading, please keep sending in requests as I'm trying to answer 1-2 per day.

[dduane]

Judging books by their covers

Having spent the morning reading the notes on this post (and reading them, and reading them...), I realized I really needed to get to grips with a piece of work I'd been avoiding.

Some of you may remember me mentioning that the Young Wizards website's longtime ISP went out of business suddenly in July, necessitating the site's hasty relocation to a new home. In the process a lot of its internal URLs ceased to operate correctly, meaning that files weren't displaying. (As I was quickly reminded when looking for the original David Wiesner art for So You Want To Be A Wizard at 01:30 last night.)

Anyway, I just wound up spending the day rescanning book covers for the Young Wizards publication history page, and was reminded of some favorites while getting the work done. (And a note for the interested: if there's any particular cover from an English-language edition of the YW books that interests you, or you think the sight of one might jog your memory somehow, that page is where you'll find the images. Use the tabs under the header image to take you through the history of publishers and artists.)

Meanwhile, being reminded of what happened to the covers for So You Want To... alone is both funny and a bit sobering. Styles change, formats change, art directors change. Sometimes the covers get a lot better, and sometimes they, uh, don't. Look at the difference in styles alone among these, for example.

Most of the time the writer gets to take what they're given, and like it. Sometimes, though, they get to give advice.

Here, for example, is one time that happened.

This is for the UK hardcover of the first of the Feline Wizards books. The artist, Mick Posen, is a cat person... and he insisted on having pictures of the cats who inspired the NY worldgating team before he started painting. Just look at these three, especially Rhiow there in the foreground. Is this a hero, or what? :)

Here's one that caused a little controversy.

The question of the day: Is Nita wearing anything? And if so, what?

The art won Greg Swearingen a silver Spectrum Award for that Deep Wizardry painting. But he and my then-editor on the series, Michael Stearns, apparently got into it a little regarding a conflict between the text and the necessities of painting a YA cover. If I remember correctly, I think Greg was holding out for "She's not wearing anything in the text in this situation, she just turned human again after changing back from being a whale, she shouldn't be wearing anything here!" and Michael was saying "But the parents, what if we freak out the parents...!" ...Eventually it seems like some kind of compromise was achieved. Swirly light = magic, or something. (shrug) Not my problem. It's a lovely cover.

About this one I have, well, mixed feelings. At this end of time, the art looks clunky. Yet this is also my first bestseller. When the SF Book Club published this omnibus, Support Your Local Wizard quickly set records as their single most-requested item of all time for new members just signing up. Its print run ran to more than 250,000 copies, and it remained constantly in print until the Book Club itself ended.

I've always been fond of this one for Deep Wizardry, and also of the one the artist, Neal McPheeters, did for the Dell Yearling and Dell mass market paperback editions of So You Want To... . There's a solid quality to both of them, but the second one in particular, that appeals to me.

(For those in the notes on that other post who reacted immediately to Kit's antenna: This is one of the reasons why it features—along with one of Nita's wands from the rowan tree Liused—on all the covers of the revised/updated Young Wizards New Millennium Editions. I've seen a lot of memories jogged by its appearance.)

...Do I have a favorite favorite one of all these covers? As usual, it's hard to pick. But I have to admit that I smile, at the moment, when looking at this one—Greg Swearingen’s art again—since in a couple of weeks it'll be the fortieth anniversary of So You Want To Be A Wizard's publication.

We'll see what the publisher does for the fiftieth. :)

[ishoulddefbedoingotherthings]

No I can’t hold it in anymore. People who complain that Emma and Killian got boring after they got together (mainly season 5 and 6 and mainly Emma) are my biggest pet peeve.

Emma’s rough exterior was because she experienced a lifetime of trauma. She was constantly abandoned/cast aside by people she cared about. For 28 years she believed her parents gave her up, and for her entire childhood she was living in the foster system or on the streets. When she was still a literal child she was betrayed by a person she loved and was sent to prison pregnant where she sat in that trauma for eleven months without a semblance of justice. She was hardened at such a young age and as seen in the show, it manifested itself into impenetrable walls that made her closed off and snippy. Yes, she was a badass when she chopped down Regina’s apple tree and slammed that guy’s head into a steering wheel (he really deserved it). But many of her badass interactions were because of her walls that made her so closed off. She only had herself to rely on, so obviously all of the stunts she pulled looked so awesome because she only had herself and her strength that was created through years and years of trauma.

What’s cooler? A person scaling a cliff all by themself without help of any kind, or a person using ropes and a partner or many partners to achieve the same result? Many people would choose the first one. But what’s safer? The second. It may not look cooler, but there’s no doubt in my mind that the second person would feel completely safe with people to rely on. And then if you put yourself in that situation, you would choose help. Right? Well when Emma realized that she had that help (mainly in season 4/5), she damn well took that help.

“The only one who saves me is me.” That quote has Emma coolness written all over it, but her tone of voice when she says “Hook” right before just shows how surprised she was that people- that HE actually came back to save her. AGAIN, no less. In New York, she looked genuinely surprised when he said “I came back to save you” because nobody had come back for her before. Absolutely nobody.

Emma is a badass and will always be a badass, but her hesitance to trust anyone and everyone makes her appear MORE badass because she only had herself. Then, she suddenly didn’t have to rely on herself anymore when she got closer to Killian (yes, she did have her parents before, but even then the only thing on her mind was to run far away and take Henry with her because it was safer. And because it was safer, she would have less fear about being put in a situation where she had to trust other people to do something that she previously only did for herself. ‘You want something done right, you have to do it yourself’)

AND THATS NOT EVEN COUNTING THE EMOTIONAL ASPECT.

Scenes where Emma opened up in season 1-most of 3 is like finding an emotional needle in a trauma infused haystack. She only opened up because she had to, and ‘had to’ most commonly meant ‘to get her son back’. She opened up about feeling like an orphan because she needed a magical map to find her son. She told Neal she wished he was dead because she had to unlock a cage, or else her son wouldn’t have a father, not because she wanted to. She didn’t want to face all the trauma he caused her, but she had to. She opened up to Henry in season 1 about a foster family giving her up because she couldn’t deal with how he was complaining about a family that she desperately wanted. It was a necessity for her to make Henry understand that his life was not unfair. (Though that was before Regina acted like a total bitch to her).

But then when she and Killian got together, or even just got closer to each other, she was opening up to him so much and it made her both more vulnerable, but also stronger emotionally, and being able to be emotionally vulnerable IS badass and such a big step for Emma. Compared to her in season 1, season 4 Emma wouldn’t even recognize herself because look at all the people she trusts and relies on. And not just her family, this random eyeliner-wearing-hook-for-a-hand dude who thinks she’s enough purely because she’s HER. The random dude who’s first priority is HER. Emma has never had that in her entire life. She has never been put first like that, and it must’ve been so amazing for her to be put first by a person who doesn’t need to do so because they’re family, but because she’s HER and he loves HER.

Flash forward to the end of season four, she sacrificed herself to the darkness and trusts the people who love and care about her to save her. THAT IS SO BIG FOR EMMA. THAT IS SO BADASS.

And I feel like the same people who believe that Emma and Killian got boring during and after these seasons neglect to realize that it was fricking traumatic. I always imagined the darkness as something that latches on to a person’s suffering and abuses it to their own agenda: to snuff out the light. (Which is exactly what it did to Killian). Emma had that darkness inside of her for the first half of season five and we all saw the tole it took on her. I know some people don’t like how Emma’s voice changed a bit, but that’s how a person who is empty sounds. She was tired and terrified and had to rely on Killian and her family to help her, and Killian was there for her at every step of the way and he helped get rid of the voice inside of her head.

Yes, Henry has always been a rock in her life, but in that season Killian was a fortress that she could lock herself away in and feel safe and loved during a time where she was constantly reliving her suffering.

And then she loses that fortress. One minute he was standing there with the utmost support and the next he was on the floor dying and she was so terrified of losing him that she turned him into the one thing he was desperate to destroy. And then she has to live with this internal conflict of lying to him to preserve the man she loves because she knows he would hate her for doing that to him. But of course she doesn’t want to lie to him, but she doesn’t want to lose him either because she won’t know how to go on.

That changes a person, and I think because OUAT is a magical show, there’s a tendency to downplay the trauma characters go through because it’s magical and it couldn’t happen in real life. It’s difficult to put yourself in the character’s shoes because it requires a lot of imagination to do so. Emma has spent months creating a relationship with Killian. She’s opened herself up in ways that she has never done before and suddenly he’s ripped away from her emotionally because the darkness took control over him, but she was so terrified of losing him that she settled for his physical presence.

That is so fucking traumatic. And because Emma is starting to completely open up, it hurts so much more because she doesn’t have walls to protect her.

And then she has to kill him, and he dies in her arms. The person she’s grown to love and care about dies in her arms and the amount of guilt and sorrow she felt clearly crushed her as seen in the scene of her lying on the couch, holding the ring he gave her, in what was supposed to be the place where she and Killian would live together- the life she wanted so much that she turned him into a dark one to keep him with her. And dark one Killian said a lot of messed up stuff to her (let’s be honest he was self-projecting) that definitely affected her.

Then she finds out that Killian’s entire death was for nothing so she goes back to save him. And she sees the torture and pain he endured because she made him a dark one and that guilt is probably so crushing, and amplified by the fact that she dragged her entire family down here including her son to save him because she was so desperate to see him again.

But when she finally has him back, it’s realized that he can’t go back to the living. She will never get to have that life with him that she wanted and it crushed her.

Yes, at the end of it all, she gets him back in the graveyard, but all of that trauma doesn’t go away.

In no way shape or form should Emma be the same exact person she was after living through that. In no way shape or form should she be EXPECTED to be the same snappy-comeback-armor wearing-badass she used to be because of that emotional and physical trauma she went through.

She is not boring because she relies on other people, and she’s not boring because she’s showing exhaustion or being less ‘badass’ than she used to be. The girl needs a break. She needs a break from the constant bombardment of villains and curses and trauma and in those little moments when she’s alone with Killian, she gets that break and it’s seen every time she smiled and her eyes soften at him. That’s her being happy, not boring. I would so much rather have Captainswan be happy and ‘boring’ than ‘badass’ and severely traumatized because haven’t those guys been through enough?

I didn’t even get to Killian who could fill the ocean with his trauma , but honestly most of the boring comments I’ve seen are directed towards Emma and it makes me so mad because she needs to REST. So what if Killian isn’t as flirty as he was in early seasons. it’s a mask, it’s clearly been a mask since the beginning and he finally has a person who loves him because he’s him (Emma) and a family and basically a brother (David). I for one think that pirate deserves to rest after living in darkness for hundreds of years. And I think he’s been plenty flirting. Uh, pancakes???????? Let the man have a break.

But does this make anyone else mad? Is it just me? I hope it’s not me.

THEYRE LIKE MY BABIES LET THEM BE HAPPY WITHOUT COMMENTING ON THEIR LACK OF BADASSERY PLEASE

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[southernmermaidsgrotto]

Hoodoo, Rootwork and Conjure sources by Black Authors

Because you should only ever be learning your ancestral ways from kinfolk. Here's a compilation of some books, videos and podcast episodes I recommend reading and listening to, on customs, traditions, folk tales, songs, spirits and history. As always, use your own critical thinking and spiritual discernment when approaching these sources as with any others.

Hoodoo in America by Zora Neale Hurston (1931)

Mules and Men by Zora Neale Hurston (1936)

Tell my horse by Zora Neale Hurston (1938)

Let Nobody Turn Us Around: An African American Anthology by Manning Marable and Leith Mullings, editors (2003)

Black Magic: Religion and the African American Conjuring Tradition by Yvonne P. Chireau (2006)

African American Folk Healing by Stephanie Mitchem (2007)

Hoodoo Medicine: Gullah Herbal Remedies by Faith Mitchell (2011)

Mojo Workin': The Old African American Hoodoo System by Katrina Hazzard-Donald (2012)

Rootwork: Using the Folk Magick of Black America for Love, Money and Success by Tayannah Lee McQuillar (2012)

Talking to the Dead: Religion, Music, and Lived Memory among Gullah/Geechee Women by LeRhonda S. Manigault-Bryant (2014)

Working the Roots: Over 400 Years Of Traditional African American Healing by Michele Elizabeth Lee (2017)

Barracoon: The Story of the Last "Black Cargo" by Zora Neale Hurston (2018)

Jambalaya: The Natural Woman's Book of Personal Charms and Practical Rituals by Luisa Teish (2021)

African American Herbalism: A Practical Guide to Healing Plants and Folk Traditions by Lucretia VanDyke (2022)

These are just some suggestions but there's many many more!! This is by no means a complete list.

I recommend to avoid authors who downplay the importance of black history or straight out deny how blackness is central to hoodoo. The magic, power and ashé is in the culture and bloodline. You can't separate it from the people. I also recommend avoiding or at the very least taking with a huge grain of salt authors with ties to known appropriators and marketeers, and anyone who propagates revisionist history or rather denies historical facts and spreads harmful conspiracy theories. Sadly, that includes some black authors, particularly those who learnt from, and even praise, white appropriators undermining hoodoo and other african and african diasporic traditions. Be careful who you get your information from. Keeping things traditional means honoring real history and truth.

Let me also give you a last but very important reminder: the best teachings you'll ever get are going to come from the mouths of your own blood. Not a book or anything on the internet. They may choose to put certain people and things in your path to help you or point you in the right direction, but each lineage is different and you have to honor your own. Talk to your family members, to the Elders in your community, learn your genealogy, divine before moving forwards, talk to your dead, acknowledge your people and they'll acknowledge you and guide you to where you need to be.

May this be of service and may your ancestors and spirits bless you and yours 🕯️💀

[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 27

Part 27: Taking Care of Business

Series Masterlist

Words: 3.6k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mob crime families, strong language, physical violence. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

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

Steve found everyone he’d called to the meeting in the kitchen with Luca and the conversation died the minute he walked through the door. Luca was stirring something on the stove, Scott and Clint sat at the small table with Dyson and Belova. Just beyond the kitchen door, he spotted Neal outside smoking.

“We meeting here, boss?” Luca asked, wiping his hands on his apron.

All eyes were on him now including Belova’s. And he needed to deal with that first.

But they couldn’t meet in the kitchen. All he could see was his wife tipsy in her pink pajamas playing poker with his loyal men. Meeting here would mess with his head.

It felt like a betrayal.

Pushing down that anger and hurt, he steeled himself for the rest of his plan. Steve had made his decisions where his wife was concerned, and his men would have to accept it. So would his sister.

Oh, it wouldn’t be that easy he knew.

“We’re meeting in my office,” Steve told them. “Scott, if you and Clint would set up extra chairs, that would be great.”

The two nodded, rising to go do as he asked just as Neal came through the door. He followed them out of the kitchen. Luca eyed Steve speculatively, looking like he had something to say. But he just took off the apron he wore and headed for Steve’s office leaving him with Dyson and Belova.

Belova looked at him like she was facing the gallows. Dyson calmly regarded him, waiting. Steve knew Dyson wouldn’t like his decision, but it was obvious he already knew it was coming.

The young woman had impressed him while she was there. Physically, she was a force to be reckoned with and she was small. He didn’t take issue with her attitude either. She had a good demeanor for a soldier.

He just couldn’t overlook the fact that her very presence put ideas in his wife’s head. She’d taught her to use firearms without his approval. For all he knew, she arranged the fucking nurse visit herself to protect his wife. While he appreciated her loyalty, it was misplaced. A good soldier always understood the true chain of command.

“Belova,” Steve said, “your services are no longer needed. I’m sure you understand that if you talk about anything that’s happened during your employment here to anyone else, I’ll put a target on you so big you won’t last a week.”

Belova nodded rising from her chair. Her gaze met Dyson’s, some silent communication passed between them as she stopped in front of Steve, her held high.

“I understand. Thank you for the opportunity to work for you,” she said calmly. And just like that, she walked around him and headed for the stairs, presumably to pack her things.

Dyson rose from the table, his intent gaze staying on Steve.

“You have something you want to say?” Steve asked him.

Shaking his head, Dyson walked around him heading for his office.

Steve blew out a sigh as he followed him. Dyson had been his mentor, his most loyal soldier since his father died. And he was opinionated. Had no trouble making those opinions known. Usually. His silence left Steve with an ill, hollow feeling.

As he reached his office where the lot of them were gathering, Steve reminded himself that he led this family now. He led all the families. Even Dyson needed to respect that and him. Steve shouldn’t be concerned at whether he’d disappointed the man or not.

Closing the door behind him, Steve walked around the half circle of chairs placed in front of his desk. He took a seat in his chair, not used to the complete silence in the room. Normally, they were talking, laughing as they waited. Today, things were grave, tense.

“Let’s just get it out of the way,” Steve said slowly. “Because of her own actions, my wife will be confined to our room for the next four weeks. I’m counting on all of you to respect my wishes here. You’ll make sure she gets her meals along with any supplies she needs, fresh towels and linens. But no visits. I want conversation kept to a minimum. I have her phone and laptop. She has some thinking to do.”

As his gaze crept across the room, Steve took in their reactions. All of them were stone-faced except Clint who looked like he had something to say and Neal.

Was Neal smirking?

“Do you have her gun, boss?” Neal asked, earning him a sold glare from Dyson and Luca.

Steve had been so upset with the entire confrontation that he hadn’t considered that. Fuck.

“I’ll take care of it,” Steve told Neal.

“What about Nat?” Clint said. “She allowed in to see her?”

Steve shook his head. “Not right now. Once Nat’s had time to recover, maybe.”

He knew better than to tell Clint or Nat that he had no intention of letting his sister in to see his wife. Nat had led her astray too with her little stunt at the hospital. Better to let them think Nat would see her at some point. Otherwise, he knew Nat would create drama and it was the last thing he needed right now.

Clint nodded but he knew Steve well enough not to completely buy that answer. Clint was also smart enough to know that if he or Nat disobeyed him, they risked their newly allowed relationship.

“Belova is no longer working with us.” Steve wanted to get that out of the way too. “I gave her a trial period. It didn’t work out.”

Scott’s gaze and shoulders dropped. Now Neal really was smirking.

Neal had been the one who told him the truth about his wife’s visitor to begin with. The man was a hell of a soldier and missed nothing. He’d saved Steve’s life a couple of times in the last few years.

He didn’t have a lot of social niceties, granted. But he didn’t need to be nice. He needed to be effective. Steve had never known the man to have a girlfriend or a wife. Maybe his gruff manner was the reason for that.

Still, the man had never seemed to have a lot of patience for his boss’s wife. Maybe he would have if she’d ever remembered her place and, like Neal, did her duty.

Her words were still running through his head.

...he wasn’t so quick to protect me when Banner stormed in this house. Scott pulled me away. Yelena saved me.

Everyone in the household adored his wife. Everyone but Neal…

“Want me to take care of Belova?” Neal asked. “Eliminate any liability?”

Dyson’s glare at Neal was hostile. “Take care of Belova?”

Neal glared back. “With everything she knows? It would be unwise to just let her fall into the wrong hands.”

“She won’t fall into the wrong hands,” Dyson said, color darkening his face in a way Steve hadn’t seen in an age. “Belova isn’t your problem.”

“Give it a rest, Dad,” Neal shot back.

“Hey,” Steve spoke loudly to get their attention. “That’s enough. Belova has been warned. She disregards that warning we’ll deal with her then.”

Neal wasn’t happy with that answer and Dyson kept glaring at him.

Steve needed to get the meeting back on course.

“Now, why you’re all here,” Steve said. “We need to take back control of Boston. We need to deal with Barnes, and we need to send a strong message to the other families while we’re at it.”

“It’s about fucking time, boss,” Luca said.

It was. Steve had given a lot of thought to what they needed to do as head family. Not easy to do in his study with visions of his wife on his desk lingering in the back of his mind along with the hurt he’d read in her expression when he’d taken her phone and presented her punishment.

Focus.

From Steve’s point of view, Clint had been shot, a store on their family’s turf had been hit and its employees brutalized. A girl from a donut shop on their turf was still missing, and Lloyd Hansen brought a goon squad to his house, trying to get to his wife.

Natasha? He didn’t think Barnes had anything to do with that, but he wanted to be thorough. They would take a closer look at Banner.

The tension from the discussion about his wife never completely dissipated. But as he explained the plan and listened to the feedback of his men as he went over each component, what they came up with was even better than what he originally plotted. If they did it right, it settled all accounts. It dealt with Banner, Hansen, and Barnes himself.

“What about the house, boss?” Clint finally said as they began to wrap up the meeting. They’d been in there for three hours. “Your wife and sister?”

Steve met his gaze. “I’ll be here,” he assured him. “I’ve got Luca and I’ll have an army of soldiers covering this place. No one touches them.”

Clint nodded, the hint of doubt in his gaze making Steve realize that maybe it wasn’t the best time to deal with his wife as he had. He risked dividing their loyalties at a crucial time.

Pushing down those doubts, Steve told himself with so many things about to happen and what was sure to be a tense crime landscape across Boston for the next several weeks, his wife was safest where she was. She wouldn’t do anything unexpected. She wouldn’t get hurt.

And no one would take her away from him. He’d personally kill anyone who tried again.

Steve adjourned the meeting, watching as Clint and Scott followed Luca out. Neal remained after the door closed, looking like he had something he wanted to talk about.

Dyson didn’t move from his chair either, his jaw tight. He was pissed.

Neal didn’t look at him. His chuckle was a dry, humorless sound. “Problem, Dyson?”

“Yeah,” Dyson said with deceptive calm. “I’ve got a big fucking problem.”

Neal cut him an angry glance. “Maybe you should retire already.”

Fuck. Steve needed to cut this off before it got going.

“Whatever business you two have needs to wait until our family business is done,” Steve said firmly. “Is that in any way unclear?”

“No, boss,” Neal said tersely.

Dyson stood up, focused on Neal. “This business can’t wait.”

“Dyson—”

“You so much as look at Belova wrong,” Dyson warned Neal, his face darkened in anger, “and I’ll fuck you up, son.”

“I mean you no disrespect, boss,” Neal said to Steve, “but I think leaving Belova out there is a risk we can’t take. You cast her out. If she doesn’t run off to one of the other families and sell us out to save her own ass, someone will find her and make her sing. If Barnes gets to her, we’re fucked.”

Steve couldn’t deny any of those scenarios was a possibility. He didn’t know her well, but she’d earned the respect of everyone else in his household, most especially his wife. Neal had been the only exception. He didn’t seem to have paid her much attention until now.

If he put a hit on Belova, he could kiss any chance of a happy marriage goodbye. And Dyson? Something told him that his mentor would never forgive him either. Dyson didn’t go to bat for just anyone.

“She’s not going to the other families, and no one is going to get to her,” Dyson spoke to Steve now. “You have my word.”

Neal shook his head. “The word of an old man. What’s that worth?”

Neal watched Dyson approach him, smirking. The older man stopped in front of him and landed a powerful kick to the center of Neal’s chest, the blow forcing the air out of his chest. The kick sent him and the heavy wooden chair tumbling backwards, hitting the floor with a loud crash. Neal was stunned and breathless, scrambling to get out of the chair, to stand. Dyson was on him the minute he rolled out of the chair onto all fours, taking a knee and grabbing his hair at the back of his head, Dyson slammed Neal’s face into the floor. Once. Twice.

“Stop!” Steve yelled after the third slam left Neal’s nose bleeding, his face deep red in color.

Dyson paused, still clutching Neal’s head. Holding it in place, he punched the younger man in the face viciously with his free hand before shoving him away roughly. Deciding he still wasn’t done, Dyson kicked Neal in the ribs hard. The younger man’s body contracted in pain, and he collapsed to the floor.

Glaring at Steve, Dyson looked livid as he rose, his hands clenched into fists. “Leave Belova alone.”

Stalking to the door of Steve’s office, Dyson paused. His hand was on the doorknob, his knuckles red.

Steve had heard stories about Dyson’s brutality when he’d been a younger man. In their world, the stories got taller as the years went on. But the man commanded respect and just now he could see why. If Dyson could do that now, what had he been like when he was Steve’s age?

“I will take care of Mrs. Rogers in her confinement,” Dyson said meaningfully. "You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve your wife. You should know that."

Then Dyson pointed to Neal who still lay on the floor. “If that motherfucker comes within 500 feet of her door? I’ll fuck him up worse.”

With that, Dyson opened the door and marched out.

***

You lay on the bed that your husband was abandoning for the next month, curled on your side in the dark. You were resigned to your fate, isolated and cut off from most everything. For what you did to Yelena, you deserved that at the very least.

Yelena had been your friend, your confidant. When you’d whined to her about not wanting to get pregnant, and that was your problem not hers, she found a way to help you. To protect you.

You knew her awful backstory with Hansen. Because of you, she’d been tossed out. She was in danger. Very real danger. And if something happened to her, you’d never forgive yourself.

Tears threatened to return, and you stubbornly fought them.

At the sound of the knock at the door, you didn’t move. You waited.

The lock clicked and the light from beyond the bedroom outlined Dyson’s frame as he walked in, closing the door behind him. His voice was low when he called your name, his eyes adjusting to the darkness as he gazed around the room.

His gaze found you and he carefully approached the bed, turning on the lamp on your bedside table. You blinked in the yellow light through your tears.

Dyson sat on the bed next to you, the concern on his face breaking you open. “Come here.”

Your body just moved. You wanted that comfort. His heavy arms closed around you, and he just let you cry. No questions. No judgment. You realized over the last couple of years, Dyson was your father in your heart. The father you never really had.

When you finally felt like you could talk, you eased back. Dyson still looked concerned as he reached for the box of tissues on the table and handed them to you. Pulling one, you dabbed at your eyes.

But you were still miserable.

“Dyson,” you said. “I’m s-so sorry.”

Dyson shook his head. “You didn't do anything that bad.”

“I did,” you told him tearfully. “I d-didn’t tell him about the appointment. Don’t you see? If I hadn’t b-been so selfish, Yelena wouldn’t… I mean, I wouldn’t have put her up to… Oh, God. Yelena…” You sobbed. “She’s never going to forgive me. She trusted me and she’s out there and…”

Dyson carefully took your shoulders in his hands, getting on eye level with you as you cried.

“Listen to me,” he said firmly. “Can you do that? Can you listen for a minute?”

You nodded, swiping at your tears with your fingers.

“Yelena doesn’t hate you,” Dyson said quietly. “She’s worried sick about you. And I know it was her idea to bring that nurse here. Not yours. She told me.”

“I betrayed her,” you whined.

“You did not,” Dyson explained. “But the two of you were betrayed.”

“Neal?”

“Yeah, Neal,” Dyson said tightly.

“Is she alright?” You had to know. “I know what happened to her before… Hansen. Dyson, if he gets her…”

The older man shook his head. “I ain’t going to let anything happen to Yelena anymore than I’m going to let anything happen to you.”

That brought on a fresh bout of tears. “Please keep her safe. I’ll do anything. Please.”

“Hush,” he told you. “No one is getting Yelena. I’ve got her stashed away. She’s safe with trusted friends.”

“You promise?”

Dyson nodded. “Feel better now?”

You did. You were so grateful.

“Do me a favor,” Dyson said. “Go get me your .22.”

Your gun? Of course. Why wouldn’t Steve ask for that too? Was he afraid you’d take a shot at him?

"H-he asked for it?" you asked.

“Nah,” Dyson said. “It wasn’t Steve who thought of it. It was fucking Neal.”

You shook your head, anger flaring beneath the surface. “Neal really hates me, huh?”

“I’m not sure what his deal is yet, but I’ll find out,” he said.

“He just always gets away with it,” you said.

You didn’t know what to do with the little smirk that earned you. “Not necessarily. Now, go get me that gun.”

Swallowing hard, you rose from the bed and went to your closet. You pulled the bundle from its hiding place. Why you kept It hidden still, you couldn’t have said after Steve joined you that evening for target practice.

But there were two guns in there. The .22 and the 9mm Yelena gave you that day. You were in enough trouble as it was, so you brought them both out to Dyson, setting them on the bed between you.

Dyson eyed both guns, their clips, and two boxes of ammo. Nodding, he took the .22, its clips and ammo, but left the other handgun and all that went with it. You watched his expression as he tucked the items away in his coat pocket.

“Steve know where you kept these?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“Then put this back where you’ve been keeping it,” he told you, pointing at the 9mm. “He doesn’t realize you still have this one.”

The surprise must have shown on your face. “Why?”

Dyson sighed. “Look, the next several days? Steve is taking care of business in a big way. And I’m not going to lie. Things are going to be dangerous for a while, yeah?”

Oh, God. Steve was going to deal with Barnes?

“I’m sorry that he found out about what you girls got up to and reacted the way he did. I don’t agree with it. Yeah, you shouldn’t have kept that from him, and you know that. But he’s hurt. And when he gets hurt, he gets pissed. He’s drastic. I’m not justifying what he did. But it’s not exactly the worst thing right now.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“If you are here and Yelena and Nat are where they are,” he said slowly, “I don’t got to worry about any of you getting hurt. It would kill me if something happened to you. And Steve…”

“Steve put our marriage on hold until my shot is no longer in effect,” you said bitterly. “A month. That's what I mean to him.”

Dyson chuckled. “The only reason he’s going to make it a week is because of the shit that’s going down in the next few days. It won’t be a month.”

“Or he’ll have someone else take care of his needs,” you threw in.

“If you honestly think that, you’re not the woman I thought you were,” Dyson said seriously.

“He wants me for a broodmare,” you said, hating the hurt you heard in your own voice. “I was stupid enough to think he might care for me but all he wants is a dutiful wife and kids. I’m not dutiful. I’m anything but fucking dutiful.”

Dyson’s smiled widened. “That’s honestly why he’s so obsessed with you. Don’t you know that?”

You didn’t feel like you understood anything anymore.

“He has no intention of letting anyone breach this house again but just in case,” Dyson said, “I don’t want you in this room defenseless. You shot Hansen. You could defend yourself again if you had to.”

“Thank you.” You meant it.

“Now, I’m the one who’s going to be bringing you meals and whatever else you need,” he explained. “And you will eat. None of that dramatic, hunger strike bullshit on my watch.”

You had to laugh at that. It sounded like something you’d come up with.

“Let us get through this week,” Dyson said, seriously, “and Steve will come to his senses. You’ll work it out. But be patient, okay? You are safest here.”

Your shoulders dropped and you blew out an exhale. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Dyson said, rising from the bed. “I’ll go get your dinner.”

He’d almost made it to the door when you thought of something. “Dyson?”

Slowly he turned around. He used to do the same at the house where you grew up, an odd moment of déjà vu.

“Keep Steve safe? Please?” You had no idea what Steve was planning but if it involved Barnes and likely Hansen, you knew the danger was great.

Dyson flashed you a knowing smile before he walked out of the room, locking the door behind him.

PS: Just on my fic posts, I'm adding a tip function. In honor of our kitty we just lost, I'm donating everything to our local animal shelter. Tips are not, will never be, and have never been expected. But if you feel so inclined, thank you. 🙏

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[hellfirecvnt]

Subordinate (Part 1)

Summary: North Jackson has a new principal and your coworkers are not coping well. XOXO.

Warnings: Dastardly bisexual man in a loud suit getting absolutely babygirled. JK. This chapter has cheating, but it's not Y/N cheating on anyone and it's not Lee cheating on anyone. It's angsty. This is an angsty series, but it'll also be a little silly and super sexy.

Notes: Bitch, you already know what the fuck it is. Also, I usually try to work around the cheating bc I've seen a few people find it icky and I respect that, however me? I love a lil fake affair. Being chosen over his own wife? Absolutely. Do I have low self-esteem?... Anyways...

Bright and early Monday morning, Neal Gamby and Lee Russell are called to a meeting determining the new principal of North Jackson High School. The two men fire jabs back and forth at each other, cutting each other down and insisting they are the newly appointed principal.

"Thank you for joining us, gentlemen." Super Intendant Haas extends a hand to each of them, greeting them and welcoming them to the unoccupied principal's office for the meeting. "As you know, North Jackson High needs a principal." Haas's words kept both men at the edge of their seats, dying to know which of them was more qualified.

"Sir, it's been-" Gamby, prematurely starting an acceptance speech is promptly cut off.

"Mr. Gamby, Mr. Russell, this is Dr. Y/L/N." Super Intendant Haas introduces you as you round the corner to meet your two new underlings.

"A pleasure to meet you both!" You chime, shaking their hands, noticing the shock in their stunned faces. You're much younger than the usual principal select, and much younger than either of them.

"The Hell's the matter with you two?" Haas asks, sharply.

"Don't worry sir, I tend to have this effect on men. I leave 'em speechless." You wink. One certain glance grants them the knowledge that you already know what you're up against. What you don't know, is that each man is stunned silent for a different reason.

Gamby is blindsided by the results after being far too certain that the title was his. After all, he did tell his whole family he was the principal. Lee is just mesmerized. Neal excuses himself to have a nauseous panic attack in the restrooms while Lee and Haas show you around the school. As you reach each wing of the large building, Mr. Russell excitedly drones on about the history and lifestyle of the average North Jackson staff and students.

Lee's charming, if not just a bit of a try-hard, but you can appreciate that.

"Mr. Russell, Dr. Y/L/N," Haas bids you both farewell and heads out the door, leaving your new school in your hands.

"Well then, let's get to it, Mr. Russell." You beam before strutting off to your new office. Lee's attention lingers for a moment on your swaying hips as you pace away, but he quickly blinks the gaze away.

You spend the day getting to know each teacher and faculty member. Your favorite is Ms. Smith. She's awkward and nervous and you understand her somehow. She's seemingly always in tow as you make your rounds around the school today.

Gamby sequesters all the teachers into the lounge for a secret meeting. They all sit confused until Neal bursts out that Dr. Y/L/N has got to go. He offers a petition for everyone to sign to kick you to the curb, but no one will sign it.

"I don't want my name on that," says one teacher.

"Yeah, I like Dr. Y/L/N," says another.

Lee watches Neal's mutiny fizzle to nothing, laughing at him and stomping out his plan to overthrow. He derails Gamby's meeting and dismisses the teachers, seeming to have taken your side at this moment. Livid with no other options, Gamby takes his complaint to the school board. It's not until after that, that Lee comes to him and proposes they join forces to take a bitch like you down.

As the clock strikes 3:30 PM, dismissing the school for the busses, you sit back happily at your new desk. A new beginning for you and yours. It's been a long time coming.

The next day, it's as if you've fallen right into routine. You've never felt more at home in a community. Your coworkers are kind and attentive, it's all you could ever ask for. You happily make your rounds in your business casual pantsuit, strutting up and down the halls dominantly. The teachers appreciate how involved you are. Around every corner, just as you pass, a pair of hazel eyes track your every move for most of the morning.

Out in a wooded area past the field, Neal and Lee gather to conspire against you.

"God damn it, is it 7:45? Because my watch says 7:51 to me," Gamby stands from the rock he was perched on, waiting for Russell.

"Bitch needed a coffee," he lies. He was lingering behind to catch a few more glimpses of you. Of course you are their enemy, they have to be rid of you, but... Look at you. What's a man supposed to do? Neal further nags Lee about his tardiness and Lee pops off. After their little discourse, Russell reveals a binder stuffed to the brim with information about the new principal, you.

"Here take this, it's all the information I have on Dr. Y/L/N." He lists off the various kinds of documents he's ascertained.

"Did you make this yourself?" Gamby asks, a little disgusted, but also intrigued.

"Of fucking course I did. I have one on everyone in this school!"

"You better not have one on me," Neal grumbles, skimming the binder impossibly fast and passing it back to Lee. "Alright, I've memorized all the important information. Destroy it."

"What?" Lee looks fed up.

"I have a photographic memory."

"Yeah? Did you photographic memory the part where she fired every Vice Principal she's ever worked with?" Lee shifts his weight sassily to his right hip.

"Wait, where was that?" Gamby's face shifts to one of panic.

"Page one." The two men study the binder, learning more and more about you. You're an artist and you enjoy karaoke on the weekends. You smoke weed and you're known to partake in some social drinking every now and then. Then Lee's face flattens as he reads a fact about you that disappointed him the first time around too. You're married, and you have been for seven years.

"She's married?" Gamby arches a brow.

"Yeah, for a while, I guess. She uses her maiden name on her doctorate, though." Lee points to the paper.

"Average beta male, I'm guessing." Gamby shakes his head. "They'll never last."

"Gamby, they've been together for like seven or eight years." Lee rolls his eyes, frustrated by Neal's ignorance.

"So? Gale divorced me after 10 years. Christine left you after 20-"

"Okay, shut the fuck up, god damn it." He waves his hands in front of Gamby's face dismissively. "I don't wanna talk about that. This is what we need to be talking about." He points to the line containing the unfortunate demise of her past VP's employment agreement.

"You think she's gonna fire us?" Neal swallows the small lump in his throat.

"Why the fuck wouldn't she?" He taps his finger on the binder a few times before shoving it into Neal's chest. Sure, Lee may be taken by your beauty, but you're an obstacle for him first and foremost.

"Well, what do we do?" Mr. Gamby relaxes his shoulders.

"We need to get rid of the bitch. Pronto." Lee snatches his binder back, subconsciously a little protective of this Bible of you.

When the men return inside, Ms. Smith hastily scurries up to Mr. Gamby and advises him that you're waiting for him in your office. Lee and Neal look at each other, confused, before he makes his way to you. A gentle knock on the door announces his presence.

"Come in," you chirp, inviting your underling into your decorated office. You're really making it your own, decking the walls with photos of you and your husband with your pets. Gamby glances at the photos, noticing your big photographed smile next to your husband's blank face. He almost chuckles, having called it that your husband felt less than you. It's written all over his face. "Have a seat, Mr. Gamby."

Neal hesitantly takes a seat across from you, staring defiantly into your face. The room feels tense, but your eye contact is unwavering, and your smile remains soft and present despite your obvious disapproval of whatever you've called him in for.

"Mr. Gamby, someone's put in a complaint against me." You deliver this line like you're dishing to an old friend.

"That's... Strange. I wonder who would do that."

"Well, it says her 'Dr. Y/L/N is an unfit replacement for Mr. Wells. She is too young and inexperienced. Immediate termination is mandatory.'" You lie the small piece of paper containing the statement on the desk.

"That's, wow, that's something. Does it... Say who would send such a thing?" Neal's eyes glance everywhere, but at you.

"It does." He flinches as you say it. "Mr. Gamby, do you think my age stops me from running the school as well as you?"

"Well, it's just that the teachers-"

"What teachers? Names, Neal." You snap your fingers a few times. Rushing him only makes him trip over his words worse. He can't seem to piece together a lie. "Mr. Gamby, I'm not going anywhere. My age, my clothes, my car, none of it defines my ability to run this school. Now you can be on my team, or you can get your desk cleaned out. Your choice. Let's do better." You stand from your desk and gracefully make your way to the door where you hold it open, dismissing your subordinate.

Angry, one-upped, and tail tucked, Neal Gamby walks out of your office with a new understanding of his adversary. He schedules for Lee to meet him by the train tracks, another place the two come to meet off school grounds.

"I told your stupid ass not to send in that fucking complaint, let alone sign it," Lee sighs, utterly baffled by Neal's incompetence.

"Well, fuck!" Gamby tosses his arms up. "Now she knows I'm against her. She's gonna make my life a living hell."

"Oh, please. Give her some credit. She can't be that petty."

"You didn't hear her in there, Russell. I was almost just fired." Lee rolls his eyes at him, waiting for ages for him to stop bitching.

"Next period. She's got two back-to-back teacher meetings. That's a 72 minute window."

"A window for what?" Gamby's tone has calmed as curiosity overtakes anger.

"To get some dirt on this motherfucker."

Next period, just as Lee said, you're tied up with teacher meetings. The two men meet up in the parking lot and make their way to your home address, courtesy of Lee's information binder. When they arrive, they notice your husband's car in the driveway.

"That must be her fucking cuckold husband's car," Lee observes.

"God, don't tell me he's a stay-at-home wife."

"He's not. He's a pretty important figure at the law firm he works at... He shouldn't be here..." Lee narrows his eyes suspiciously. The two men very carefully park the car a few blocks away. Just as they're reaching for the handle to open the car doors, another car, a red sedan, pulls into your driveway. Lee and Neal duck down to hide, still watching the mystery car.

A beautiful, tan woman with long, thick black hair cascading down her back emerges from the car like a siren breaking past the surface of water. She's gorgeous. Even Neal finds himself at a loss for words. The lovely woman approaches the door to the home you share with your husband of almost 10 years and walks right inside. No knocking.

"I don't think her husband is the cuckold," Neal whispers. Lee's face is contorted into a devilish smile as he watches the perfect situation set up for him. He doesn't even need to get out of the car. Whipping out his phone, he dials the number to the school and does his best to disguise his voice. It works perfectly, and he advises that Ms. Swift alerts you right away that your house is on fire.

The two men return to the school, satisfied with the impending turmoil. Neal runs off to look busy, and Lee sits in the front office, waiting. He watches you receive the news, your face flushes white and your knees attempt to buckle before you bolt straight out the door. Mr. Russell wishes so badly he could be a fly on the wall when you catch your long-term husband in the hands of a beautiful, even younger woman. His secretary.

A few hours pass and you finally return to school. Your clothes are still perfectly styled and placed, and your hair is beautifully styled, but your make-up shows evidence of the flood of tears that has washed down your face. It's not easy to see, you'd have to be looking for the tear stains. And Lee was.

"Hey, there, darlin'. I saw you leaving in a hurry. Everything okay?" Lee catches you in conversation as you walk through the door.

"Everything's fine, Mr. Russell. False alarm. I guess I'm luckier than most," you smile warmly. So convincingly fine, he wonders if what he witnessed was even an affair at all.

"Well, are you sure? I-"

"Today is a beautiful day, isn't it?" You stare out the window into the sunny courtyard of the school.

"Uh, yeah. It's nice out."

"Let's just be thankful for that." You inhale and exhale with a big, peaceful smile before disappearing into your office. Lee's partially confused by your resolve, but he knows better than anyone how quickly that all fades away once reality sets in. The next few days, he's patiently awaiting your downfall.

To his dismay, every day you come in, you seem to be doing better and better. If he hadn't seen your husband stick his tongue down that woman's throat, he might even convince himself he dreamed the whole event. Lee's just about to give up on that scheme altogether until he stops by your office unannounced.

Without knocking, he swings the door open and steps inside.

"Hey, I got you your-" he stops in his tracks, two coffees in hand. You're sitting at your desk, sobbing in front of a photo of you and your husband at your wedding. Your shoulders shudder with every uneven breath from your heaving chest. All of a sudden, Lee no longer cares about the plan. He doesn't care if you go or stay. Guilt eats him alive as he listens to you try your hardest to keep quiet before you straighten up your appearance and make your rounds once again. He closes the door behind him and sets the drinks on your desk, only then do you notice his presence.

"Mr. Russell, I'm so sorry!" You startle, sitting up and quickly turning your chair away from him. You tap away at your wet face, but it's clearly a futile action. "Please excuse my hysterics. It's... been a weird week." You attempt to laugh the awkwardness away, but it lingers.

"I, um," Lee is shocked to find himself speechless. He always has something to say, especially when it comes to kicking an enemy while they're down. The perfect chance has just arisen, but when he sees the shine on your wide, watery eyes, he can't seem to force the venom out. "I brought you a coffee." You take the warm cup in your hands, reading the little logo from a locally owned coffee shop just a few miles down the road.

"Thank you, Mr. Russell." You smile weakly, appreciative of such kindness amid something so heartbreaking. For a moment, in your pitiful puddle of sadness, Lee can see himself. He's been through a divorce. In fact, it was his hellish schemes like his plan against you that ran his wife off. Guilt whittles away at him like a sharp knife against oak.

You're just about to take a sip from your gifted drink when Lee stops you, switching your cups.

"That one's mine, actually. Splenda." He smiles, nodding a silent goodbye to you and exiting your office. You watch as his hand reaches back inside, locks the door, and closes it for you, so you won't be disturbed again. It's been a while since it felt like someone did something kind of you just because, and not because you're the boss. This felt genuine, even for just a second.

"How is she?" Neal asks. Not in concern, but in reconnaissance.

"A fuckin' mess. I couldn't even fuck with her. It was like stepping on a puppy," Lee shakes his head as if he's disgusted, overwhelmed by the unexpected empathy he felt for you in that moment.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Russell. If you can't stick to the plan-"

"Don't even fuckin' start, motherfucker. You're the one comparing this shit to Christine." He waves a finger in Gamby's face. "It was a weird interaction. We're still going to break that bitch down, one way or another. I just need to separate myself from it." Gamby rolls his eyes at Lee's dramatics.

"Well, she needs to shape up. We've got a pep rally prep meeting in an hour." Neal and Lee head their separate ways and Lee finds himself lingering back around your office. That's when he hears the muffled sounds of your voice. You're on the phone. He puts his ear against the door shamelessly and tunes in.

"Mark, you can't fucking do this..." Your voice is low and calm at first. He can't hear Mark on the other end, but he gathers enough clues through what you're saying. "You don't get to do this, I get to do this. I'm the one who gets to leave... No, fuck you, Mark. You don't get to leave me! I'm leaving you! I caught you fucking your secretary, who, by the way, I feel terrible for! So I'm the one who gets to call this bullshit fucking marriage quits!... I will put you in the ground if you think you're taking my dog!" Lee hears the sound of you slamming the phone onto the receiver. Seconds later, you're opening the door, standing right in front of Lee. You're quite literally blind with rage, walking right past him and heading for one of the rear doors of the school.

"Dr. Y/L/N?" He trails behind you, quietly attempting to gain your attention, but you keep walking. He can nearly see the heat waves coming off of you. If physics allowed it, he just knows your head would be on fire right now. You get outside, but your feet don't stop there, and neither do his. You're deep in the woods, only 20 feet or so from Lee and Neal's meeting place. When you finally stop, you throw your head back and release the most guttural, angry wail he's ever heard. It only lasts a few seconds, and when you're done, it turns to a few short moments of shaky breaths before you finally feel like both of your feet are back on Earth.

"Mr. Russell, hello." You turn around, red from embarrassment having been seen like that.

"Dr. Y/L/N." He nods.

"Did you, uh, you followed me out here, huh? Saw some of... That?" You shift back and forth from the ball of your foot to the heel.

"Well," again, he can't make himself say the horrendous insults he had chambered, poised as harmless remarks. "I just got here," he says, and you know he's lying, but you appreciate it all the same.

"I don't usually react like that," you admit, taking a seat on a fallen tree. Lee glances behind him and then joins you where you sit. "I was doing a lot better."

"What do you mean?" Lee feigns a tone of genuine concern, though his curiosity is at the wheel as well.

"I have- used to have a little bit of a temper." Your shoulders drop as if a weight has been lifted off of them. Like you've been holding on to this. "I've been medicated for a while and I was in therapy a few years ago. I haven't really lost it in almost six years. Mark was such a big help, I guess this all just felt..."

"Like a punishment?"

"Yeah! Exactly!" You're shocked to see your eccentric coworker relating to you in this way.

"My wife left me last year," he confesses with a defeated smile. He looks at the ground, quickly reliving coming home to that empty house.

"I'm sorry to hear that..." A short silence lingers between the two of you as neither knows what to say to make it better, so Lee just changes subjects altogether.

"We uh, have a 'pep rally prep meeting' soon," he quotes Gamby.

"It seems we do," you sigh. "I'd appreciate it if we could keep this between us, Mr. Russell."

"'Course we can." He smiles a kind, fake smile and escorts you out of the woods. As you walk ahead of him, his facade drops and he silently scolds himself for yet again, dropping the ball. Not only did he not antagonize, he may have even helped just now. What the fuck?

At the meeting, you and Lee walk in together. Gamby eyes him suspiciously as you take your seat at the head of the room. The meeting is about trivial nonsense like themes, refreshments, and performances. The group comes up with several really good ideas, and you're left to be the deciding factor.

You settle on pizza and sweets, to treat the kids and get their energy high for the day of. As far as performances, you've reached out to a few local gymnast groups that could put on a feat of athletics. Fun! Theme is where you're stuck. Everyone's got sparkling ideas. Circus theme, underwater, Mardi Gras. But it's not enough for you. It doesn't scream "winners" to you.

"The theme is- wait, what's our mascot again?" You glance around the room. "All I ever see are feathers. Is this a Boston Reds situation?"

"Well... Yeah..." Ms. Snodgrass pipes up.

"We'll need to get that remedied." You give a 'yeesh' expression. "Top of the docket next meeting."

"Wait, we can't use the Indians?" Gamby asks, confused.

"Let's don't call them that. We're gonna put a pin in this conversation and turn it back to the theme." You mime putting a pin in a corkboard.

"But-"

"Mr. Gamby, if the next word out of your mouth isn't the best fucking theme idea I've ever heard, I will take you out back myself." Your threat works to silence him, but it also sends a wave of unease over the room. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, attempting to regain control of the room. You can hear the other teachers whispering and it finally dawns on you that you've forgotten to take your medicine. You've been so busy with Mark and meetings, you haven't taken the only thing that stops you from being the absolute menace that you are.

"I'm thinking, we play to our strengths," Lee stands, drawing every set of eyes off of you and onto him. "We're already warriors, let's just slap a different image on that. Knights in armor or something for the pep rally until you choose a new mascot."

"That's a great idea, Mr. Russell!" You beam, thankful for his introjection. You're starting to really trust him, which is exactly what he wants. Regardless of if he's able to hurt your feelings, he can still gather your sensitive information and use it against you. It's his specialty.

The meeting is adjourned and everyone returns to their duties. You scan the area and call Neal and Lee into your office.

"I really appreciate the friend and second in command you've been, Mr. Russell. And by default, you, Gamby." Your tone earns a sneer from Neal. "I am in for some real fucked up bullshit coming in the next few, I don't know, weeks? Months?" You toss your arms up. "I'm just really thankful to have you both here. I really hope the three of us can get closer and really solidify as an admin team."

The two men thank you for your words of praise and leave you to it in your office. As they walk away, Neal whispers harshly to Lee.

"What the fuck was all that? You're being a friend to her? I thought we were breaking her down?"

"We are breaking her down. You just don't understand how much worse words can hurt when they're coming from a friend. Probably because you don't have any."

"Fuck you, Russell," Gamby huffs.

[love1other]

Not Enough // Sana

Just pure angst

Words - 1,786

-----

“I love her so much, like when she’s not around I always think about her and what she’s doing. She’s the first thing I think of in the morning and the last one I think about at night.” Y/n cries out to Wendy, her best friend, after finishing another glass of whiskey.

“But it’s like I’m the only one who cares in the relationship, you know? Like I understand she’s busy with her job and that she’s going to be busy a lot. I knew that before we got into the relationship.” Y/n rambles on not making much sense as she’s hard to hear over the loud music at the bar and from her crying.

Wendy has no idea what’s going on, all she knows is that she got a call at 2 a.m. from the bartender asking to come get her friend, who has apparently been there since 8 p.m. drinking and crying. 

“Y/n, what’s going on? Why are you drinking? You don’t drink.” Wendy asks gently, worried about making her friend even more upset- if that’s even possible.

“I’m trying to drown my feelings,” Y/n replies with a dry chuckle, having somewhat stopped crying.

“Why are you trying to drown your feelings?” Wendy asks hesitantly. 

“Because the person who completely owns my heart is cheating on me.” With that said Y/n lays money on the bar, gets up, and heads to the exit.

Wendy looks at the bartender and apologizes before running after her friend. 

“Y/n wait up. What do you mean she’s cheating on you?” 

“Exactly what I said, Wendy! She’s cheating on me.” Y/n cries out while sliding down the outside wall of the bar, and putting her head in her hands.

Wendy stares at Y/n not knowing what to do, she’s never seen her this upset before. 

“Are you sure she’s cheating?”

Y/n lifts her head out of her hands and lays it against the wall to stare at the sky.

“I wish I wasn’t, but I am. I’ve been suspicious for a while, a month to be exact, but I was just overlooking everything and praying I was wrong. But I couldn’t overlook today.” Y/n whispers still staring at the night sky.

Wendy neals in front of her friend, “What happened today?” She asks while taking Y/n’s hands in her own. 

��You know how I was on my business trip? Well, I got back a couple of days earlier than expected, honestly, I pulled some strings to get that to happen. But I knew she had this week off and I just wanted to spend time with her, I’ve missed her so much. Well, I came back to the apartment with flowers, chocolate, a fucking teddy bear.” Y/n bitterly chuckles while Wendy lightly squeezes her hands for her to continue.

“I walk in, expecting her to be relaxing and watching tv like she normally does on her off days. Well, she was there sitting on the couch with the tv on. Except she wasn’t alone, some guy was there. They were both too busy with their tongues down each other’s throats to notice me dropping my stuff. I couldn’t even confront her, I just walked right back out and headed here.”

Y/n cries out.

“Am I not enough Wendy? Why did she need to cheat? Is my love not enough?” 

Before Wendy can even reply Y/n’s phone rings. 

“It’s probably her, she’s been calling the last couple of hours, must have noticed the stuff I had bought her lying on the ground by the door.” Y/n scuffs out, declining the call and then turning her phone off. 

“I’m so sorry Y/n, you don’t deserve that. And you are enough, it's Sana that is the problem, not you, okay?” Wendy says pulling Y/n into her arms, as Y/n starts sobbing. 

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

You wake up to a splitting headache, but also to your heart hurting. Looking around you see a glass of water and Advil on the bedside table, which you instantly take.

After taking the medicine you reluctantly get up and leave the room, you know where you’re at, you’ve been to Wendy’s dorm more times than you can count. 

Heading to the kitchen she sees Wendy cooking what looks like eggs. “Hey, sleepyhead,” Wendy says after noticing you. 

“What time is it?” You ask, sitting down on a stool.

“2 pm, I was actually about to go wake you up,” Wendy replies, setting a plate of eggs and toast in front of you, which has your stomach turning in a bad way.

You push the plate away and look at Wendy who is already looking at you with gentle eyes. “How are you feeling?” She asks with an even gentler voice. 

“Like complete and utter shit,” You reply with a broken voice. 

“I know I need to confront Sana, I just, my heart can’t take seeing her right now.” You continue.

“That’s completely understandable,” Wendy says, walking around the counter to get to you. Once again she’s pulling you into her arms, which you’re thankful for, her arms bring you comfort.  

“I should warn you, Sana has been blowing up my phone asking about you, she even had Nayeon call Yeri.”

“She’s really not going to give me any space huh?” You mumble in Wendy’s shoulder. 

“Doesn’t look like it,” replies Wendy as she gently rubs your back. 

“Guess I’m just going to have to suck it up and confront her. I mean it’ll probably be better to just get it out of the way,” You say moving out of Wendy’s arms. 

“Are you sure?” Wendy asks holding your hand. 

“Yeah I’m sure, But uh first can I use your shower?” You ask realizing you stink.

“Yeah of course,” Wendy says. 

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

After a shower and reassuring Wendy, that you’ll be fine and will call her if you need her, you head out to your own apartment, already knowing that this conversation with Sana is going to break you even more, but it needs to be done. 

Getting to the front door of your shared apartment you hesitate, scared you might walk into the same thing as yesterday. 

After a small prep talk, you unlock the door with your key and walk in. 

The apartment is quiet, and the things you had dropped yesterday are now sitting on the dining table. 

Walking to the living room you see the couch, which has your heart clenching remembering what you saw yesterday, but no one is there today. Walking more in it seems the apartment is empty, which you’re glad about if you’re being honest.

Though it seems you thought too soon as you hear your bedroom door open and your heart starts to ache even more as you see Sana in your old high school hoodie, some sweatpants, and red eyes. 

“Y/n,” She says her eyes widening before she runs to you and wraps her arms around you. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She sobs into your neck.

You just stand there, wondering why she’s crying, she’s the one who cheated, she’s the one who decided to find comfort in another. 

You should be the one crying, she’s the one who broke you.

With that thought in mind, you lightly push her away. 

Looking Sana in her eyes you ask her the one question you’ve been thinking since yesterday.

“Why?”

All she does is look down to the ground as a sob leaves her mouth. 

“Why Sana?” You repeat the question.

Finally, she looks back up at you. 

“I - I don’t know.” She mumbles.

A dry chuckle leaves your mouth.

“You don’t know?!” You say a bit louder than intended causing Sana to flinch. 

“I’m sorry,” Is all she says looking back at the ground.

Running your hands through your hair you ask another question, one you’re not even sure you want the answer to. 

“How long?” 

Sana looks back up at you with pleading eyes, but you don’t give in and you keep a straight face. You need to know how long.

“3 months,” she finally whispers out. 

Hearing that you fall to the ground, a sob leaving your mouth. 

That’s way longer than you thought, you only noticed her becoming distant this last month, but to know it has been going on two months before you had even noticed, hurts even more, especially since she’s been lying right to your face for that long. 

Sobbing, Sana joins you on the ground and once again wraps her arms around you. 

You let her as you’re too busy rethinking the last few months of your relationship, which has apparently been all a lie.

Finally after a few minutes of just sobbing and thinking you sit up and say what needs to be said. 

“We’re done, you can keep the apartment, honestly I don’t even want to be in here knowing that the last three months someone else has been in here. I can get my stuff out by the end of the week.” With that said you push her away and stand up. 

You walk to your old shared room and start to pack a bag with clothes. 

Still sobbing Sana comes into the room, “No please Y/n, don’t do this, I’ve already ended it, he doesn’t mean anything to me, you do.” She cries out. 

“Sana you only ended it because I caught on!” You yell as you turn to her. 

“You probably wouldn’t even have ended it, if I hadn’t of caught you yesterday!” You continue before grabbing your bag and walking past her. 

Right before you’re about to leave Sana grabs your hand. 

“Please Y/n, please give me another chance, I love you.” 

Closing your eyes to stop more tears from falling, you turn back around to face her. 

“No, you don’t love me, if you loved me you wouldn’t have cheated on me for the past three months.” 

With that said you take your last look at the one who has owned your heart for the last two years. She’s in baggy clothes, her hair’s in a messy bun, and her eyes are bloodshot from all the crying, yet she still looks absolutely gorgeous to you. 

Even after completely breaking you.

Pulling your hand away from hers you turn back towards the door and open it. 

“Y/n,” She whimpers out.

You look over your shoulder one last time to see her staring at you desperately. 

“Goodbye Sana.”

And then you’re out the door heading back to your car, yet you know your heart is still back there with Sana and probably always will be.

[tapakah0]

Girl omg I am IN ABSOLUTE LOVE with your animatics- I’dmarrythemifIcould- can I ask what program do you use for animatics? And do you have any tips on making animatics (especially abt character and camera movement) or any sneak peaks into your process? I’ve been wanting to dip my toes into trying it out but I’m not quite sure where to begin.

I have Clip Studio Paint EX, but I’m still trying to figure out the animation features etc and, again, I wanna try my hand at making animatics, that’s why I’m asking :3

Okay... For almost all animatics I use Toon Boom Harmony Premium (it has a lot of stuff and it's comfortable for me) Also sometimes I use Krita and Clip Studio Paint (I used this video to understand main features of this program (Little fact, I used Clip Studio to animate "Yellow light" for the first time). Lately started animating in Procreate too, pretty funny and comfortable one About tips... I had one about smoother shifts between frames (but for some reason I can't find it? Even with the fact that I did put a special tag on it) and I don't know what exactly you need about other tips. Almost everything I make intuitively, I kinda see where to move camera too make right effect? But I can tell one most useful tip, if you really wanna animate, try to imagine how it will move in your head, use references (just watch video and copy on paper on program moves from there), look how things in your life moves, it will slowly stuck in your head if you will be stubborn enough. Because, I will be honest, I didn't learn any animation basics but over time, as I look at video lessons, I understand tha I do know them (but I think it will be important to know them theoretically, not only intuitively, if you will work with other people, because they help to specify how it should be animated (key frames, inbetweens, timing and other things) Artists which lessons I use to watch from time to time or I just love their way of animating: Toniko Pantoja, Alex Grigg // Animation for Anyone, GOBELINS Paris, ToastyGlow, pollovy, -岂几Kai-, Neal Illustrator, SAD-ist, Casserole :D, WolfyTheWitch, Rodrigo Sousa, Amelia B (There are more, but these are the first ones I always remember, and of course a lot of cartoons)

About wips...... I have a lot... "I bet my life", "Finale" Leo's pov, "Earth" and others in queue... I almost completed key frames for "Agnes" animatic (Full song, about 4 minutes? I'm making my dream live over here he-he-he), but I am so crazy about sending wips so that I created my little rabbit hole (to hide from Cass *giggle*) to stop sending them on tumblr because I want to make full emotional experience from completed work... It's not so cool if you already experienced first emotions from this when you could experience the whole thing biting your knees

I hope something from there was helpful, don't rush, try to understand how it all works firstly, try to understand what kind of animatic you want to make and what you want to show and make it~~~~ You will love it when you'll see what you're able to create~~~

[its-in-the-woods]

Chapter 3 of down the rabbit hole

Chapter one here , two here , four here

MDNI

Pairing: Walton Goggins x You

Rating/warnings? IDK: Will just keep mature okay. Minors get out. Heavy mention of alcohol, blackouts, drunken shenanigans, hints at SA, awkwardness,

Slow build like novel damn length okay, Very Fluffy, Pinch of Angst, Relationship Development, Hurt/Comfort, Older man/ Younger(30s) women, Alternative universe, fictional work (IDK WHY BUT I AM PUTTING IT) Probably more as I go.

Synopsis: Working in film as a make-up artist is hard enough, but then Walton Goggins requests you, well it's way too easy to fall down the rabbit hole.

Note: they are both single, all for fun.

WARNING I do not have this all written out, I do have it plotted out, but it may be a little slower for chapters to come out. Please bear with me. If you know a Beta to edit please send them to me.

Thank you all for the support! This gets cute and flirty. Let me know what you think. ***

The bar is a hole-in-the-wall place, with the fifteen or so crew and four actors the place is packed. It’s laid out with a bar at the front, couches, and comfortable chairs in the back. You find a spot closer to the back, a gin and tonic in hand. Trevor is talking with Decon at the front, the two men are practically making out. You chuckle and sip your drink. Rebecca from Costumes sits beside you, the woman is all fluid grace. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” She smiles and sips her drink, short hair with sides buzzed, various botanical tattoos draping down her shoulder. Piercing brown eyes and a soft face that always had a small smile. She was draped in all black, which was of course fitted perfectly. 

“It’s going pretty good, nice to get out after a long week.” You reply, watching people mill around the place. You knew almost everyone here, aside from a couple of the extras. Most folks were chatting and drinks were flowing. 

“Oh man, it sure has. I am happy they stuck me in the studio for the next week.” 

“I will take the studio over driving any day. The city is atrocious to get around on a good day. Add in construction I would rather take the studio regularly.” You reply, having lived here for close to a decade and there was never not construction. You weren’t even sure what the construction was for anymore. 

The two of you chit-chat for a while, going over different projects. Discussing a little about the union politics and the fact that the industry was saturated because of the fifteen film schools. It’s nice, even welcomed. You’re now on your third drink and the world is getting a little tipsy. Rebecca has moved over, and Neal from props is talking to you. He was discussing some builds he was looking at doing for a Sci-fi show coming up at the end of the year. You listened intently, you had always loved props and had considered moving to that department at some point. 

The night carries on, you are buzzed now. The realization that you are going to need to get an Uber is at the front of your mind. You make your way to the bar in sesrch for some much needed water. When you look over to see Trevor grinning and moving towards you. 

“Hey sweety,” He says, words tripping over each other. The man was also as drunk as you are. “Me and Decon are gonna probably share an Uber to his place. Do you want to catch a ride with us?’

His eyes are bright if a little fuzzy, Decon is staring at him with hunger in his face. You can’t blame the man Trevor was fine as hell. If he wasn’t gay as a unicorn, you’d be tempted. 

“Umm, I am pretty sure that you both live at the other end of town from me,” You are surprised you can actually remember where Trevor lives, much less that Decon was in the same area.

“Oh. Well,” His face screwed up like he was trying to solve world hunger and not how to get home. 

Walton emerges from the groups of people, his face is slightly flushed, but out of all of them, he is probably the least inebriated. He takes in the three of you, you can see the wheels turning. 

“What is going on, if you’re arranging a three-way I will have to excuse myself, I hate being a fourth wheel,” The man chuckles at his own joke, Decon looks slightly confused looking between all of you. 

You let out a small snort, “No, just figuring out rides home. I live in the opposite direction of these two.” You gesture to the two men who are heavily leaning against each other. 

“Nonsense, I will make sure you get home safely,” Walton says looking at both of them. “You two lovebirds go and have a wild night. I will make sure the lady will get home.”

“You sure Mr.Goggins,” Decon asks, he is a good head shorter than Trevor but built thicker with shaggy blonde hair.

“Walton,” He smiles, “Definitely, she will be taken care of.”

“The lady also agrees,” You sigh, leaning slightly against the older man. You can feel how warm he is, it’s hard not to rest against him

“Okay,” Trevor chuckles, “Have fun, don’t do anything I would do. Or. You know do.”  

You watch Trevor and Decon stumble out of the bar. Part of you is jealous that they had someone to go home to. You relax and going to find yourself a spot on the couch. A moment later Walton slid in beside you. You’re happy your face is already flushed from the alcohol as his thighs touch yours. 

“Hey,” He says in a hushed tone, sipping of what smells faintly of scotch. He hands you a glass of water which you greatly appreciate. 

“Hey,” You reply, meeting his gaze. “How are you fairing?”

He smiles and looks around the room, “Honestly, I am kind of over it.”  

You giggle looking around at the same time. A few people had left, some people lingered in groups, and a few had divided into pairs. The mood has chilled out a little, the music dropped down a few notches. It’s comfortable and cozy, but that might be liquor. 

“It could be worse, we could have to work tomorrow.” You look back at him. The man was now staring at you as if every word you said was important. You fail to hold his gaze, damn liquor was making you melt.

“Mmm but at least I’d get to hang out with you,” He said with a crooked smile gracing his lips. You were pretty positive the man new the effect he had on you. 

“Oh stop,” You giggle, shaking your head and taking another sip of water.  “I know you enjoy the days off as much as any of us.”

“Suppose I do, it doesn't change the fact I like getting to spend time with you.” The Southern slipping in, making you almost choke on your drink. 

You roll your eyes but relax beside him, part of you just wants to lean against his chest and let the alcohol relax your inhibitions. You both talk about traveling, you had spent a few months traveling around the Philippines, Taiwan, and Korea. He talked about being in Japan, and China. Sharing info on some of the favorite foods you had a chance to eat, and how you both looked forward to traveling again in the future. You decide in haze to have a few more drinks, as the two of you continue to chat about the future. 

When the bartender calls closing you go to stand and the whole world spins around. You nearly fall over but someone grabs you before it all goes dark. 

***

Light is peering around the blinds, and you groan at the splitting headache and nausea filling your already foggy brain. Reaching around you find the side table, a bottle of Tylenol, and a glass of water. You take two tablets and bury yourself under the covers, falling into a restless sleep. 

There is more light now, and though your headache is marginally better you still feel like you’ve been run over by a truck. Blinking a few times you realize you’re not in your room. This room is fairly close to the size of the apartment you live in. The walls are basic contractor beige with generic artwork. There is a closet, two side tables, a darkened bathroom, and a chair near the end of the bed where you can see your jacket and purse sitting on it. Your phone is on the side table, plugged in, beside you along with a powerade and glass of water. Swinging yourself out of bed you are grateful to see you are still dressed, sans shoes, socks, and your jacket. Your clothes are uncomfortable but not as if they had been taken off and put back on. You straighten yourself a bit, rubbing your aching forehead. You grab the water and drink most of it. It makes your stomach lurch and for a moment you briefly wonder if the water is going to come back up. 

Settled, you quietly walk over to the attached bathroom. You don’t bother turning on the light, already knowing that you look like hell. You grab a face towel and wash what was left of last night's eyeliner and mascara off.  Making sure to clean the towel well so that it doesn’t stain. You take out your braids and rub at your sore scalp. Giving yourself a moment on the toilet before washing up and rubbing more cold water on your face. You feel a little more human than when you walk back to the room. That cold stone of anxiety rolls around and you try and push it away. Whoever had brought you here hadn’t done anything. You were currently safe and could catch an Uber home. 

Gathering up your things and the bottle of Powerade you slowly open the door. There is the faint sound of music coming from down the hallway. You tiptoe down the way hoping to see a front door to slip out of. At the end of the hallway, the place opened up into a kitchen/living room area. A man was standing in the kitchen singing the song that was playing. The door out was across from the kitchen.  

It wasn’t just any man, it was Walton. Hair fluffed up, wearing a pair of christmas pjs, and white cotton top. Singing and dancing around the kitchen. You freeze and wonder if you should go back into the bedroom and throw yourself out the window. Maybe there would be a fire escape, or maybe you’d just let yourself be swallowed up by the pavement instead of facing him. Letting out a small breath you push yourself into the light of the day, feeling completely at a loss. You weren’t going to be able to sneak out, might as well get the awkwardness over with. 

“Umm. Hey,” You squeak, placing your things onto a chair at the small dining table. 

Walton jumps and turns back to you, his glasses nearly falling off his face,a brief moment of fear is erased by a big smile. “Hey! You’re up. Sorry, did I wake you?” Pushing up his glasses with the back of his wrist. 

You shake your head taking a small sip out of your bottle. The smell of bacon and pancakes makes your stomach growl. How you could be both be hungry and hungover should be studied by scientists.

“No, I am usually up early.”  You give a weake smile. It was true, even on your days off you were usually up between seven and eight. 

“I made breakfast?” He looks so out of place and nervous, pointing to a couple of plates. His usual charisma was replaced with jittery energy. Then again you’d probably be nervous too if one of your drunk co-workers slept at your house.

“That sounds amazing.” You say grabbing both full plates and taking them over to the table. You have no idea what the hell you’re doing, all you wanted to do was leave. At the same time, you were not going to turn him down. The thought of him being disappointed was worse than the awkwardness of staying. 

He slips into the seat beside you handing you a fork and knife, placing some maple syrup on the table. Getting up, again, to grab two mugs and the pot of coffee, he whirls around the place grabbing some cream and sugar too. 

“Thank you, umm for breakfast,” You say, not really sure how to feel about the whole situation. You had very hazy memory about the rest of your evening at the bar. Most of it was just blank. “How did I end up here?”

Walton’s face falls as he looks at you, “Oh, shit. I should have told you. Probably don’t remember coming here.”

You nod your head, suppressing a smile at how flustered he is.

“I tried to bring you home, but you won’t give me your address or wallet. Kept saying you weren’t bringing home ‘no random man’. Kept trying to convince me to just put you in a cab .” 

You laugh at that. “Of course I did.”

“Trevor wasn’t answering so we brought you here. Ahh- I promise nothing happened. I just took off your shoes cause they looked uncomfortable. Plus socks in bed always feel weird.” The jumble of words spilled out as he looked at you for reassurance. 

Your hand finds itself resting on top of his wrist. “Thank you, I appreciate you not leaving me at the bar.” It was kind of him, most people would have just dropped you into a cab and be done with it. But of course, Walton would make sure everyone got home safe, the man was gentleman. 

Walton looks shocked at the last statement. His hand slips up and takes yours. It feels weirdly natural, his larger hand engulfing yours as he rubs his thumb of your fingers absentmindly.

“Oh no. I would never leave you- at a random spot.” He says quickly adding the last bit as his cheeks go slightly pink. You briefly wonder why he would be so flustered, you wouldn’t have blamed him for just letting you take a cab. 

“You're a good man and the food smells amazing.” You smile back, squeezing his hand slightly. It felt so easy just to sit here at the table holding hands. 

Both of you dig into the food, and despite still feeling hungover the food hits the spot. Walton explained as best he could the rest of the night.  You had apparently also hit Leonard, his driver when the man had held your waist trying to help you into the vehicle.

“I will make sure to apologize to him on Monday.” You make a face. “Probably a good reason for me not to go out so much.”

Walton looks taken aback by this, “Leo will be more than fine. I can guarantee he has dealt with the worst. Plus besides that, you were very much welcome company.” 

“Still though.” You shake your head. You grab his plate and stack it before bringing it to the sink. 

The habit of putting things into the dishwasher is in full effect. You help him clean up, and it all feels much too easy. You take a sip of water, the headache still lingers and all you really want is a shower and some sleep. Silently you scold yourself for letting the night get away from you. You had never been a bigger drinker to begin with, and letting yourself get black-out drunk was not exactly something you wanted on your resume. 

“Thank you for- umm- looking after me. I should really get going.” You say feeling flustered, thinking about the fact that you’d love to just crawl into bed with him. Let him tell you stories of his travels as you drift off to sleep. Maybe you could both have a shower and then-

“Can I drive you home?” Walton wakes you from your daydream. “If you are comfortable with me knowing where you live-”

You blink a few times, trying to get your brains to string a few words together. “Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to do that. You’ve already done so much for me.”

He shrugs, “It’s really not a big deal. I promise” 

Your resolve crumbles, what were you supposed to do to disappoint him and say no? No there was not disappointing this sweet man. You’d do near anything just to see him smile. 

***

Walton drives you home, you’re surprised he drives something as utilitarian as a Toyota  4runner. At the same time, who are you to judge, you have been driving the same Honda Accord for almost a decade. You both chat about the city, Walton seems enamored with the mountains, so close to the sea, and tons of places to explore. You talk about your favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurants, and Walton recommends a few decent bars. The chatter is easy, it’s always been easy you realize. The pace and flow were as if you had been talking to him for years ike you were old friends. 

“That’s me,” You say with a weak smile, the idea of having to go home wasn’t as appealing. Your tiny little studio apartment, with its leaky windows and smoke-smelling hallways. At the same time, you know you can’t stay in the vehicle all weekend. 

“So it is,” Walton says, he looks almost as disappointed as you do. “What time should I pick up Monday?”

Taken aback by the question you look at him with your mouth open.

“Your car is still at the studio.” He replies that little mischievous glint in his eye. You wonder if this was his plan all along. 

“Oh. Dang-it. It’s alright I will catch a bus.” You say, trying not to be dismissive but also not wanting to bother him. Realistically he probably had better things to do then pick you up. 

“No. I insist. I was the one that invited you to the bar.”  Walton states a small smile growing as he watches you. You realize that you aren’t going to be able to say no to him, and at the same time, you don’t want to either. 

“I will be outside around 6 am if that works?”

His smile widens, making your heart do little backflips, “Sounds good, I will see you then.”

Chapter four

*This was so much fun to write. I am excited to see where things go next! As always likes comments reblogs are greatly appreciated .*

[happilyfeatherafter]

Happilyfeatherafter’s ficrec Fridays

Back back back again, and I don't know guys, I think we should all just totally stab Caesar! Welcome back to a new fortnight of fics that I’ve read and loved recently.

If you want to find more you can see my previous rec lists here!

15 March 2024

Are You Writing From the Heart? by  @luckshiptoshore is now complete!! Congrats Luck! Full disclosure, Luck is one of my very best friends, but that just means I know not only how much of a talented fic writer she is, but also how much of her heart and soul she poured into writing this love letter to queer storytelling, season 4 Destiel as a romcom, meta text (and subtext), and finding out who you really are when society and your upbringing is fighting against you. Castiel is a ghostwriter for L.S. Shore's Supernatural novels about Neal and his brother. Caught in a storytelling rut, Cas finds himself adding the fallen angel character of Bel...what could possible go wrong? Meanwhile at his local writing coffee shop spot, he meets the handsome stranger Dean who is an up and coming standup comedian and Supernatural fanboy. They because firm friends, but that's definitely it because Cas is straight....right?! Following these two dummies as they FAIL TO USE THEIR WORDS is a total joy, as Luck's humorous and emotional writing paired with her eye for detail is so very on point, and I'm so excited more people will finally get to read this story in full.

Baker Six by komodobits because !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I cannot tell you how goddamn excited I was to get this email notification and finally be back in 91w world, and to witness these early stages of Dean and Cas' relationship through Dean's eyes at last. This barely needs a rec because it's THEE 91w Dean, but komodobits hasn't missed a beat in getting back inside their heads and I was once again swept away by this iconic love story against the odds. Head the trigger warnings as always, this is truly on the front lines as a medic in a war zone. Baker Six was written for the very good cause of the fandom Palestine fundraiser, in support of the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund. Please donate if you can!

Truth & despair by @shallowseeker was a recent discovery and such a fascinating read! It's set in a post-15x18 verse, but importantly it features a fun Sam narrative perspective that delights in his lens by...being a bit of an unsympathetic oblivious dummy (affectionate). I really appreciate a crunchy Sam characterisation and oooboy does this pay off. Dean is steeped in his grief for Cas, and Sam is oh so concerned. He reaches out to Mia Vallens to understand his own grieving, and that leads to him making a discovery...Dean's memories of Cas' death aren't what he claims happened. With the unwelcome reappearance of Chuck (he lost...didn't he?) and LITERAL sinkholes appearing in the fabric of the universe, can they figure out what's happening to save Cas and save the world? This wip plays with physics, theology and narrative fuckery in such intriguing ways. I can't wait to see how it wraps up in the next two chapters.

The Leap by @friendofcarlotta started reading this one when Tina reshared it on Leap Day...because of course. I'd actually read it before but it more than lived up to the reread. 'Castiel Krushnic is a police officer in Soviet-occupied East Berlin. He is also gay, in a city where that’s a dangerous thing to be. One night, he meets Dean Winchester, a mechanic from the American sector. Their mutual attraction is instant, and a convenient hookup quickly turns into a passionate love affair that defies all rules and expectations.' Meticulously researched, emotional, heartrending and thought provoking. I highly recommend taking the leap on this fic!

See you in two weeks and OMG it's @deancaspinefest time!!!! I'm so excited *clears calendar*

Tag list under the cut - let me know if you'd like to be added to be notified of future recs!

@dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you

[rumbelleshowdown]

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Moderator note: There will be only one fic posted for Groups G, H, and J. The other person in each of those groups dropped out.

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Author: Firefighter Barbie

Group: H

Prompts: Young Gideon AND Neal. Cat and mouse, cop!Belle. Hiding.

-

Something Brave

Belle Gold stood with her back pressed to the wall as she caught her breath and changed the clip on her pistol. The call had come in just under nine hours ago and had given her and her husband two options. Option A: Bring a hundred grand to the Troll Bridge, and your kids live. Option B: Tell anyone about this, especially another cop, and you'll never see your kids again. She and Robert had chosen Option C: Hunt down the kidnappers, make them pay, and rescue their kids.

Peeking around the corner gave Belle a clear view of her children tied up with their backs to each other. They were in plain sight. She could reach them easily, but that would be giving the kidnappers what they wanted. She’d have to go about this a little trickier to ensure her children’s safety. She took a deep breath, noticing the way Neal held tight to Gideon’s hands through the ties. She knew Neal was old enough now at sixteen to protect himself and his brother if worse came to worst, but she wanted better for him. For all of them.

She caught Robert’s gaze across the hall – giving a rough nod to indicate where the children were. He took a peek and seemed to deflate at the kids’ roughened-up condition. She wanted to hug them too but most important was getting them out of there safely. Robert nodded and jerked his head to the other side — she followed his gaze. The kidnapper was no stranger to their family. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the captain of the Neverland Pirates, Killian Jones, and Robert’s ex wife, Milah.

“She always said she’d come back for me, but she never did.” Neal’s voice echoed in her mind. Neal had been four when Belle had adopted him and married his father. He’d given her away at the wedding. Now he was in danger, all because his biological mother had finally come back for him. She could see the tear tracks stained on his face. She made a fist against the barrel of the gun and told herself her job was to contain, not maim.

At least for Milah. Though it was tempting, Belle would not be responsible for ending her miserable life. That was her vow and concession to her oldest son.

Belle took a breath and holstered the gun in her boot. Maybe all Milah wanted was to scare her into leaving. Maybe if she played the game right, she could get the boys out before shots were fired. She risked a look at Robert who was making a motion with his hands above his throat. Don’t do that. 

If the plan were to protect Belle, Robert would have been right, but her safety came secondary to that of the children’s. “Milah.” She spoke confidently, feeling more afraid than she had the last time she’d stared down the barrel of a loaded gun. “You don’t need to do this. Neal wouldn’t want this.” She focused her attention on the brunette, trying not to make eye contact with Robert on her left. She had to keep him out of sight. She also was avoiding the look of her boys. She had to do this right so that she was keeping them safe. She stepped in front of them.

“Don’t talk to me about what Neal would want. You poisoned him against me, harpy,” Milah snapped, Killian looking on with a sharp smile that showed all of his teeth. Or at least - the remaining ones.

“He doesn’t need to see this.” Belle insisted, “I brought the money, Milah. You can let them go.” She threw out a bag on the floor, and it slid against the concrete with a whoosh.

“Where’s Robert?” Killian asked. He made no movement to grab the bag. Belle swallowed the urge to reach for her boys and get them out of here.

“He’s probably run away,” Milah taunted. “Lord knows he’s not man enough to come here.”

Belle schooled her facial expression after a millisecond. “He’s on his way. Are the boys okay?”

“They’re fine.” Killian interjected. “No worse for wear, right lads?” He leaned against Milah, looking sideways at the boys.

Gideon squirmed and tried to shout. Neal held fast to his brother’s hand and told him to stay quiet. Belle could see his knee was scraped through the jeans and saw red for a second before she had to remind herself to calm down.

She could be a mom in a minute when they were safe. Right now, she had to be a cop.

Killian took a step forward, Milah close on his heels. It was like a game of cat and mouse. Belle wasn’t sure who was who. She didn’t care. All that mattered was getting her boys home in time for bed.

“Take the money,” Belle said. “Let me get the boys.”

“Sensible choice, lass.” Killian scowled. “Not very fun, but I can see being with Ol' Gold wouldn’t give you much room for fun in your life. Milah, get the bag.”

Belle took two steps backwards, closer to the boys. “Neal,” she said in a low voice. “The restraints, are they loose enough to run?”

Neal gave a very small nod. Gideon whimpered. “Mama, where’s Papa?”

“When I say so, I want you to take Gideon and run down the left hallway.” Belle continued carefully, having to pretend as if she wasn’t listening to Gideon. Milah was closer to the bag now. Belle took a deep breath. “Three seconds from the end of this sentence, loosen your restraints in one hand. Keep together. Stay in the hall until we get you.”

Neal glanced to the right. He’d been in his Taekwondo classes for a long enough time that he knew not to give his position away. Gideon wasn’t as advanced yet, but Neal would protect his brother. He had to. He loosened the restraints in his right arm, and slowly slid the hand out. Belle shouted, “Now! GO.” And he was off, running to the left with Gideon dragging behind him. Milah grabbed the bag, and Killian backed up. His gun fired a warning shot in the air.

Robert grabbed the boys on the left side of the hall. Belle took her gun out of her boots and aimed it at Milah directly. “Milah Jones, Killian Jones, you’re both under arrest for kidnapping two minors.”

“The bag’s full of newspaper, not cash,” Milah shouted to Killian. Killian started to sprint, but Robert aimed his gun at Killian’s foot. Shot him in the leg, and he doubled over in pain, wailing.

“Nice shot Papa!” Neal cheered, watching as Milah’s eyes widened in shock. “Neal?” Her eyes filled with tears as Belle got up behind her, cuffing her. Milah didn’t move, betrayal written on her face. Belle hid her snicker.

Gideon launched into Robert’s arms, and no sooner did Belle snap the second cuff closed on Milah that Neal yelled out, “Mom!” Milah smirked as the boy raced in her direction, but it turned into a sneer when he ignored her and embraced Belle. “I’ve got you baby. We’re here now,” Belle promised, murmuring words of sweet affection for her son as she buried her face in his mess of brown curls. She looked up, made eye contact with Milah. “It takes more than giving birth to someone to be their mom. You have to love them more than you love yourself, something I don’t think you are capable of.”

-

[thesymphonytrue]

SHxWC

okay here is a draft of the first meeting between Sherlock&John and Peter&Neal. Sherlock comes off really strong here, but I feel like he always does tho???

Let me know if the characters are tracking, my fellow fans:

Moments later, two men came into John and Sherlock’s living room. One had dark brown hair, brown eyes that seemed to be in constant concern. He wore a khaki colored trench coat, a dark suit underneath. The other man had dark hair styled to perfection, brilliant blue eyes and donned a fitted pea-coat complete with a scarf and…fedora? 

Oh Sherlock’s gonna love this, John thought sarcastically, then pondered, Yes, Mrs. Hudson is right, he does favor Henry Cavill…

“Hello,” Sherlock greeted them, “Sherlock Holmes. And this is Dr. John Watson.” 

John stood and nodded cordially. Sherlock held out his hand to the man in the trench coat.

“Special Agent Peter Burke, FBI,” he said, gripping Sherlock’s hand firmly and shaking it. 

Before Peter could introduce the other man, the blue eyed kid (seriously, how old was this fellow? 22?), grinned and held out his hand. 

“Neal Caffrey, artistic consultant,” his eyes glimmered with mischief. 

Peter rolled his eyes, “He’s my CI.” 

“Yes, yes, I know. Criminal informant,” Sherlock said, eyeing Neal. 

Oh dear here we go, John thought, I hope they are ready for this. 

Sherlock’s first impression deductions were always humbling, but John felt like for these two, it would be like dunking them head first into arctic water. Even John could see their affection for each other sparking back and forth like circuit energy.

With utter glee, Sherlock pulled a badge out of his pocket and examined it.

“Peter Burke…FBI…” he mused.

Peter patted his coat where his badge would be and immediately glared at Neal, who shrugged, equally annoyed, and glared at Sherlock. 

“That’s my move,” Neal muttered to himself, jamming his hands in his pockets and looking at the floor. 

“Just like Lestrade,” Sherlock murmured to John, chuckling.

He handed the badge back to Peter. 

“You’d think you would keep this in a more secure place considering how many times Neal Caffrey has slipped it from your pockets,” Sherlock said. 

Peter smiled, embarrassed, and stuffed the badge back into his pocket. 

“A past baseball player who joined the FBI as a plan B career. So fascinating,” Sherlock paced around Peter and Neal, circling them like a lion, “Shoddy coat, wedding ring, hair that has been cut in the same way for ten years based on your hair tan lines,” 

Sherlock paused, eyes scanning, brain filing away every piece of Peter Burke it could get its hands on. 

“Devoted husband, honest to a fault, and…often bored. Had to get a CI to keep work interesting for you. Now that you have your wife in a marital commitment, there is no longer a chase and you have a need to chase someone. I gather you have running shoes in that duffle bag and your dress shoes are scuffed on either side—revealing that you chase well and chase often.” 

Peter’s eyes were wide with astonishment and Neal was grinning wildly, impressed, but also seeming to adore seeing Peter put under a microscope. 

“And of course, you have deep affection for the man next to you. Not only because he runs and chasing him is addictive, but you've grown fond of him. You stand close enough to defend him if necessary, but not so close that he can pick your pocket at will. Your eyes move to him once every thirty seconds, meaning he is almost never out of your sight. I saw you tense as I opened the door and you stepped in between Neal Caffrey and myself, in case I was a threat to his safety.  He is your weakness and you know it and you do your best to keep that weakness under control.”

Silence filled the room as Sherlock’s deductions hung in the air.

“Damn, Peter, he’s got you pegged,” Neal whispered, but then gave Peter what John could describe best as “puppy dog eyes,” “ Do you really have deep affection for me?” 

Neal was teasing, but Peter blushed nonetheless and swatted him away. 

“And Neal Caffrey, prolific crime artist and conman,” Sherlock broke their banter and his icy blue eyes turned to Neal. 

John shuddered inwardly. Sherlock did not like criminals. He dedicated his entire life to eradicate them. The fact that someone like Peter was working willingly with someone like Neal, probably baffled the genius of a man. John had already prepared himself for lengthy venting sessions from Sherlock once this case started. 

“You are wearing a mask for me, but I will see right through it,” Sherlock said and then nodded to Peter, “He certainly can see right through you and yet, here you are…solving crimes together.”

“Sherlock,” John started.

“I can handle it,” Neal said, straightening his stance.

“You carry a scientifically calculated outward appearance. You call yourself an artist, but the mask you have designed is nothing more than a mathematical formula.  I can find nothing amiss. Right up to the starchy collar of your dress shirt, everything is neat and clean and…perfect,” Sherlock stepped closer to Neal, squinting to examine him, to find the flaw that would give away the interests of his heart.

John could see that Sherlock found nothing. Absolutely nothing to deduce on Neal Caffrey. He was a clean slate. Other than the lingering glances at Peter Burke, that betrayed much more than Neal probably thought, there was nothing that Sherlock could find. 

Sherlock stepped back. 

“Other than viewing Agent Burke as a pseudo father figure but also somehow a soulmate, don't ask me to deduce that I'm very confused myself at the notion--- I can’t find anything to deduce on you. Well done, Neal Caffrey.” 

John thought that perhaps this would delight Neal, but it did quite the opposite. Neal’s shoulder shrunk and his once charming grin melted into neutral lips. Peter, on the other hand, was dazzled, watching Sherlock Holmes with awe and reverence. 

Ahh yes, the Sherlock spell, John thought. 

He knew Peter would snap out of it soon, though, 

Everyone always did, especially smart ones like Peter Burke.

Soon enough, Sherlock’s quirks and observations would hit a nerve and send sparks (harmful sparks) flying. Everyone was outstanded with Sherlock, but very few could handle him on a daily basis. 

John could. 

John always would.

He still felt as though he was under the Sherlock spell sometimes, amazed at what that man could do. 

“So, the case at hand,” John started, ready to get on with business.

“It’s tantalizing!” Sherlock said, eyes growing round with excitement. 

“Ignore him,” John mouthed to Peter and Neal, bringing a tiny hint of a smile to Neal’s face and that warmed John’s heart. He felt for the kid. 

[jadedvibes]

Innocent

Summary: Andy gets upset when he discovers that Neal asked you out for drinks.

Pairing: Andy Barber x reader

Warnings: 18+ only, jealous!andy, swearing, things get a little rough.

Word Count: 900

A/N: Inspired by this gif @maladaptivexxdaydreaming sent me! 💜✨

Like, comment, and/or reblog to put a giant smile on my face ♡

“Why did Loguidice smugly walk out of here with a smile on his face?” Andy asked as he walked towards you. 

“Hmm?” you furrowed your brows, looking up at him with a pen between your lips, feigning innocence. “I don’t know,” you slowly pulled it out. “He just offered to take me out for drinks to give me a couple pointers to strengthen my memorandums.”

His jaw ticked as he inhaled a heavy breath. “Your writing is perfect, what did you say?” he interrogated.

You tried to suppress your smile at his compliment and obvious agitation. You’d done well in your legal writing class and thought you were pretty great too, but your true reason for letting Neal Loguidice think he was taking you out on a date was to get under Andy’s skin. 

Your clerkship with Andy was ending soon, and after this, you weren't certain where you’d end up for work. Although, as you watched the jealousy run across his features you knew there was one place you’d very much like to be – bent over your desk as he pounded into you mercilessly.

Of course it was unethical to want him that way, but the long hours coupled with the close proximity made you long for him. Those broad shoulders, that perfect ass, and that self-assured attitude – like he knew he could bend anyone to his will. They didn’t make men like Andy Barber anymore, and that’s why you had to have him.

Looking up at him doe-eyed, “He said I could be more clear and concise in a couple places, so I said yes.”

“You’re not going,” he declared harshly. 

Your eyebrows raised at his sharp tone. “I… he’s my boss Andy. I want to be the best lawyer that I can be someday, and if he’s willing to –”

“He’s not your boss, I am. And I said you’re not going. Be sure to let him know that.” 

Standing up from your desk, you walked around to get closer to Andy so that you could meet his eyeline. “But I want to go, I wanna see what he can teach me,” you smiled coyly. 

“I’ll teach you, I’m a better writer than him. He’s just trying to get into your p–” he cleared his throat. Neal Loguidice was a slimeball, and he didn’t think his sweet little law clerk needed to know all the details. 

You stood as close as professionally suitable, and then took one more step so that you could gaze deeply into his icy blue eyes. “Trying to get into what, Andy?”

He stared down at you for a moment and then blinked, trying to process what was happening. Sure, he flirted with you, you were too gorgeous and always so eager to please, he couldn’t help it. Even so your beauty carried an air of innocence too, one that he respected – but a deeper part of him desperately wanted to sully that. A twisted part of him wanted to know what you tasted like. Morality and honor out the door, he wanted you.

He was planning on telling you after Lynn offered you a post-bar full time position at the district attorney’s office at the end of the week. However, now with the way you were looking at him, talking about that bastard Neal taking you out, Andy knew he had to act. 

“Neal is trying to get into your pants, or better yet, your skirt,” he declared, his eyes slowly trailing down your body, studying you. 

You bit your lip, watching as he took you in with hungry eyes. He’d often hide his desire; every time you bent a little too low in front of him, or when you’d take off your blazer and reveal a top that showed more than he expected. You’d see the way his eyes would flutter shut, simultaneously suppressing a groan in his throat as his breathing went shallow. 

“Maybe someone should,” you closed the little distance left, bringing yourself toe to toe with Andy. Knowing your time with him was limited made you bolder than you thought possible.

His eyes came to yours, and a trace of a wicked smile crossed his lips. “That what you want, honey?” he lightly trailed the back of his hand down your arm, leaving goosebumps as he went. “Want me to fuck you… right here in this office?” 

You nodded, unable to push a word through your lips.

He charged you, grabbing your face in his large hands as he kissed you. His tongue slid through your lips as he backed you toward your desk, pinning you there with his hips. 

You threaded your fingers into his rough beard as you kissed him back with everything you had – electricity buzzing through every cell in your body as you felt him harden against your covered core. His grip on your face was near painful, but damn did you love the way he felt, his tongue passionately dancing against yours. 

His lips, his touch, his power, felt like a perfect preview for what was to come next. 

“I’m going to fucking ruin you,” Andy growled against your lips. 

Eager and aching, “Please,” you whimpered, your heart beating so loud you swore he could hear it.  

Andy gave you a devilish grin, his eyes flickering in satisfaction at the sight of you wrecked and ready for him. “Go lock the door.”