#It can be cracked open into some of the best writing I've seen about learning to love yourself as an ace person!

[nowoyas]

Trying to make sense of the Nanowrimo statement to the best of my abilities and fuck, man. It's hard.

It's hard because it seems to me that, first and foremost, the organization itself has forgotten the fucking point.

Nanowrimo was never about the words themselves. It was never about having fifty thousand marketable words to sell to publishing companies and then to the masses. It was a challenge, and it was hard, and it is hard, and it's supposed to be. The point is that it's hard. It's hard to sit down and carve out time and create a world and create characters and turn these things into a coherent plot with themes and emotional impact and an ending that's satisfying. It's hard to go back and make changes and edit those into something likable, something that feels worth reading. It's hard to find a beautifully-written scene in your document and have to make the decision that it's beautiful but it doesn't work in the broader context. It's fucking hard.

Writing and editing are skills. You build them and you hone them. Writing the way the challenge initially encouraged--don't listen to that voice in your head that's nitpicking every word on the page, put off the criticism for a later date, for now just let go and get your thoughts out--is even a different skill from writing in general. Some people don't particularly care about refining that skill to some end goal or another, and simply want to play. Some people sit down and try to improve and improve and improve because that is meaningful to them. Some are in a weird in-between where they don't really know what they want, and some have always liked the idea of writing and wanted a place to start. The challenge was a good place for this--sit down, put your butt in a chair, open a blank document, and by the end of the month, try to put fifty thousand words in that document.

How does it make you feel to try? Your wrists ache and you don't feel like any of the words were any good, but didn't you learn something about the process? Re-reading it, don't you think it sounds better if you swap these two sentences, if you replace this word, if you take out this comma? Maybe you didn't hit 50k words. Maybe you only wrote 10k. But isn't it cool, that you wrote ten thousand words? Doesn't it feel nice that you did something? We can try again. We can keep getting better, or just throwing ourselves into it for fun or whatever, and we can do it again and again.

I guess I don't completely know where I'm going with this post. If you've followed me or many tumblr users for any amount of time, you've probably already heard a thousand times about how generative AI hurts the environment so many of us have been so desperately trying to save, about how generative AI is again and again used to exploit big authors, little authors, up-and-coming authors, first time authors, people posting on Ao3 as a hobby, people self-publishing e-books on Amazon, traditionally published authors, and everyone in between. You've probably seen the statements from developers of these "tools", things like how being required to obtain permission for everything in the database used to train the language model would destroy the tool entirely. You've seen posts about new AI tools scraping Ao3 so they can make money off someone else's hobby and putting the legality of the site itself at risk. For an organization that used to dedicate itself to making writing more accessible for people and for creating a community of writers, Nanowrimo has spent the past several years systematically cracking that community to bits, and now, it's made an official statement claiming that the exploitation of writers in its community is okay, because otherwise, someone might find it too hard to complete a challenge that's meant to be hard to begin with.

I couldn't thank Nanowrimo enough for what it did for me when I started out. I don't know how to find community in the same way. But you can bet that I've deleted my account, and I'll be finding my own path forward without it. Thanks for the fucking memories, I guess.

[callofdudes]

I've got a pride month request coming along as well, I'm just getting lots of writing juices back. So don't mind me, sorry, a little "fun" mental health post. Don't take all of this as 100% as I'm not a mental health professional but I do study psychology for leisure.

Dissociation and indifference.

While able to crack jokes and engage with others, he's generally learned to keep his hands out of hot water, and if he does, he doesn't show that it burns him. On top of many mental health medications causing fatigue, distance, and emotional lows, Ghost does his best not to express the stress that work brings to him. Which is something that can be seen either as a strong male role model, or the less healthy version, evasion of one's emotional needs over physical.

Let's be honest, Ghost spends most of his time in the gym rather than talking to a therapist. And while working on yourself physically can be a breath of fresh air, sometimes it's good to let the mind breathe too.

It takes him a lot of time to open up. For a lot of people, recognizing that trust is trust no matter how close you are to the person. Ghost's lack of trust does not distinguish between blood or friend. It has to be him that makes that step, but it's working through the indifference that helps get to the core of his pain. As indifference to topics like mental health discussions can be a coping mechanism against how one feels.

"Simon, can I get you some tea?" You asked when you looked over at him and saw him sitting silently on the couch. He rubbed his knuckles as he stared at the wall, then shrugged.

"Are you hungry?"

Another shrug. "Depends what you're making." He finally responded, deadpan and unenthusiastic. You frowned softly and decided to make him some tea. Soon heading to the couch, you set down the cup and sat next to him.

You quietly relaxed. "Would you like to talk about anything?" You knew you had to let Simon come to you. It was difficult, but extending that offer and reassuring him you were there was always the first step.

He was quiet for a moment. "No."

"Ok... When you're ready." You gently rubbed his shoulder. You relaxed next to him and turned on the tv. The faint glow of the passing frames flashed against his pupils but his reactions to it were minimal.

After some time, he reached for the tea and took some sips. "Y/n...?" He shifted slightly.

You looked over at him and nodded.

"Can we... Talk about something?"

You paused the movie and shifted to sit facing him some more, giving him your attention. "Of course, what do you need to talk about?"

His shoulders relaxed slightly at the reciprocation, and slowly brought his needs and feelings out, letting you see the inner workings for a little bit. And you listened.

Dramatic emotional switches.

Sometimes this is harder to analyze or to catch, but this can be a sign of stress or like indifference, a cherry aversion to the hectic world around us.

While this can absolutely just be someone's nature, mental health is most times disguised within layers of regular everyday emotion that not even the person doing it may realize.

I think Johnny's cheerfulness comes from his nature, but under stressful circumstances it can come out as a way of attempting to feel in control of his hectic environment. We don't see this often, but it is common amongst individuals struggling with stress and anxiety.

But after these stressful happy sprints, it can lead to an emotional low due to stress catching up, or being too much to ignore and push aside. Leading to days of not feeling happy at all. Common themes of depression can be random emotional highs, followed by feeling like the world is horrible and you'd rather die than do anything else.

Like with Ghost, this can absolutely be a character trait to boost morale in friends, not wanting to see them fall into the emotional state they are wishing to ignore. During work, Johnny comes off as a strong and intelligent role model, and I think he knows how to distinguish work and personal life better than the others. Willing to confront the bulk of his feelings and stress when in an environment where he doesn't feel the need to constantly be the last line of morale.

It had been a while since you'd seen Johnny. You'd recently come back from a pretty excruciating mission and you couldn't blame him for wanting rest. When dinner rolled around you headed to his room and knocked. "Johnny?"

A minute of silence before Johnny perked up. "Come in."

You shifted the door and headed inside to see him relaxing on his bed with his sketchpad. "Hey y/n." He smiled warmly, sharing his warm presence with you.

"Heh Johnny, food is out in 20, guy hungry?"

"Yeah! I'll be out in a bit. I've just gotta finish this drawing."

"Cool, can I have a look?"

He hesitated slightly, then nodded, his smile returning. "Yeah sure." He sat up and let you come over and see his sketchbook. You looked down at the drawing and smiled softly. "I keep forgetting you're so good at that."

He looked up at you, the smile on his lips not fully translating to the lost expression behind his eyes.

You looked at him, and gently touched his shoulder. "You good? I know you had a close call, even if the medics said you were good."

"Yeah, I'm feeling good. A little sore, but it comes with the territory." He closed his sketchbook.

A moment of silence came between you two, and the look you gave him made tears spill into his eyes. "Johnny..." You opened your arms.

Johnny hesitated before hugging you tightly. You held him back, gently stroking his back. "You're ok... We're all ok." You assured him as his tears wet your shoulder. "You did amazing.."

Johnny let out the burst of emotion, finally allowing himself to come down from that false high, and rest in the knowledge that he was ok here.

Overworking, trouble distinguishing work from personal life.

Price has a tendency to overwork himself when he's feeling stressed or agitated. Oftentimes indulging in one or more cigars to momentarily get a hit of relief for a much more extensive problem. When growing up with role models that pushed for perfection and hard work it can make it hard to distinguish the stresses of work from personal life. Price ends up taking a lot of the work stress home, and vice versa.

This can lead to him feeling even more stressed or striving to trap the things going on around him in both personal and professional settings under his thumb. Burying himself in his work can help him feel like he's being productive or that he has control over what happens in that space.

He's constantly reassuring his team, as captain even if he feels out of control it's his job to keep his head on and make sure his team feels like he has both hands on wheel, which can be stressful. Over time this is a tactic that has been branded into his behaviour and he is always doing this.

In his home life this can affect how he acts in the home, including feeling a need to take control more often to feel that people he loves in his environment are properly taken care of.

This can also lead to his underlying anger and tendencies to push down his frustrations and work it out through physical activity or cussing at a wall until he's tired. But, also not the type of person to go to therapy about this, as he may not even realize it's a problem if it's so deep in his routine.

You leaned on the doorframe of Price's study as he worked away. He'd had dinner in there, and the plate was still stacked on the edge of the desk where he'd mentally told himself he would take it back.

"You doing ok, John?" You asked, and walked over to him.

"Mhm. Got stuff to do for Laswell..."

"Important report?"

He shrugged. "Something like that. Just need a bit. I'll come away soon."

You nodded and gently rubbed his shoulder. "Well, don't work yourself stiff, ok?"

He nodded after a moment, his eyes not leaving his computer. You didn't say anything else and left him to his work. Around an hour later you came back. "How's it coming?"

"Mm... More stuff to finish." He muttered, still glued to the screen.

"It can wait, you're off duty... I'm sure Laswell knows that."

This time Price didn't respond, and you knew you needed to step in. "John." You came over and gently touched his shoulder. Finally, he looked up at you, searching your eyes for anger.

You gently squeezed him. "Why don't we play a game together?" You gave him a soft smile, and his shoulders tempted to give way under your touch.

"Why?"

You gently took his hat off and brushed his hair away. "Because, I know you need to do something, so come do something with me. I want to spend time with you."

He leaned slowly into your touch, allowing you to close his laptop. "Can I pick the game?"

"You know you can."

Price stood and you wrapped your arms around him, and he hugged you back. "We can do this together, you're home..."

Mistrust, underlying frustration and vocal outbursts.

Life can be extremely stressful in their line of work and from my perspective, this shows in Gaz's contrast between his calm collected nature and the vocal outbursts he has. This is no doubt because of stress and building frustration that he is struggling to control.

His mistrust in authority or inability to understand or rationalize his surroundings can lead to these outbursts. Kyle's calm and collected side is something to be desired, but when he's alone and has nothing to focus on, that anger can quickly turn unchecked. Whether it be beating a punching back or spending most of his time angrily analyzing interactions or comebacks to conversations in his head for hours.

It's a constant loop, while working, while trying to relax, he's always got an interaction that irritated him running through his head. Or feeling like he isn't smart enough because he couldn't come up with the answers for the conversation at that moment.

Kyle was beating himself up. He felt like such an idiot. I had the bastard right in his hands. He frowned, throwing another furious kick at the punching bag. "Bloody- stupid bastard!" He ground his teeth angrily.

By that point his frustration was obvious. You went over to check on him. "Everything ok, Kyle?"

"I fucking had him!"

You nodded a little. "Hey, can't blame yourself, we all have mishaps."

"Not this time." He said with exasperation. "I had him right there! I had him in my hands! And he still got away..."

You reached over and gently took his arm. "Kyle,"

He moved away, but you gently touched him again. "Kyle, look at me, please."

He exhaled heavily and looked at you, the frustration evident. "I know it's frustrating. But we'll get him. We always do."

"I know..." He hung his head. "I wish I could have done more... The look on the captain's face.."

You gently took his hand and squeezed it. "You're strong, Kyle. You're the best of the best." You gently rubbed his knuckles. "But even the best of us make mistakes, and mess up. You don't have to worry about being perfect."

He blinked, his frustration filtering out from anger, to tears. "Bloody... Hell.."

"Can I give you a hug? You look like you need one."

His shoulders dropped, and with that you gently hugged him. "We'll get him... I promise. But we aren't pinning this on you, ok?"

He squeezed you, a tear rolling down his cheek. You'd stand there as long as he needed, as long as he knew the weight wasn't on him to be the perfect soldier.

[unadulterated-syd]

I wrote this like a week back, when I had the motivation to write

I'll crack down on some reqs after Christmas <3 + I may be a little more inactive on here for awhile, I've been busy and frankly very tired.

Much love <3 and feel free to participate in either of my Events,, both are still up and running.

-

Standing in the door way, you sighed. Watching Judith and Rick curled up on the couch, who knew how long sleep had overcome them.

You pulled a blanket from the nearby closet, sliding it carefully over the two— truth be told wondering how they'd managed to fall asleep in the cold like this in the first place.

You heard the patting of steps coming from the stairs, though disregarded it as creaks in the home. It spoke rather often, squeaking here and there as if intentional.

However, as you turned to leave— after tucking the two in, you found Carl stood in the doorway. He just stared at you for a moment, adjusting to the idea of you living with them.

You'd moved in a while back, after being kicked from your solo home due to crowding issues. You were glad to move in, really, the home made life less lonely, more liveable.

Though you got along well with most of the Grimes— playing with Judith, working with Rick, even learning sword tricks with Michonne, Carl and you rarely talked.

You had a mutual agreement, though silent, that you'd keep your distance. The two of you saw hope for the future in each other, in one way it was close to love, though you'd never admit it.

"Sorry— you can have the room. I was just heading out anyway." You told him, in a hushed voice, careful not to wake the sleeping Grimes behind you.

He looked at you, it was still dark out, time for sleeping by all means.

"Where are you going? It's late."

"I've uh— got a spot a little ways out. Perfect for when I can't sleep."

"When you can't sleep..?" He asked, seeming to ponder on another thought, "What.. is it."

"Nothing special. It's a cleared home just outside the walls, has some cool stuff." You paused, "But from the roof you can see the stars really well. You're welcome to join if you want?—

— we can stay on opposite sides.. its plenty big."

"Okay." He agreed, though wincing at the idea of ruining your safe space. on opposite sides. That was the first time the agreement was ever voiced.

Upon arriving at the old home, you took it all in once more. It had high gates, well kept— stretching eight feet in the air. There was a strong padlock pressing the gate shut, one you'd added for security.

"How long have you known about this.." His eyes glanced around, noticing small details like you owning the key to the lock, or the way certain windows were pressed open to get the best circulation.

"Long enough to protect it." You guaranteed, locking the padlock back— once the two of you had already crossed the threshold in the gate.

You led him into the house, it was rather clean— evident you'd purposely kept it that way. You stopped in the hallway, looking at him.

"You can have free reign in here, I'll stay up on the roof." You whispered, extending the keys for him to take, "I trust you won't leave me."

He stared at the keys in his open palm as you exited up the stairs.

Carl looked around, his eyes landing on a picture of you and your family— who he presumed was your family anyhow. Had you lived here?

He shrugged off the idea, enjoying the look of happiness you presented. He'd never truly seen that in you, not in the time he'd known you anyway.

He walked further into the house, exploring the CDs laid out on the livingroom floor, before moving to the kitchen. The table was littered with pictures of people, some he knew, others he didn't.

They were of you with people, most taken after the rise of the Walkers. There was an odd happiness to you— in all pictures you'd seemed to try your hardest to look happy.

His eyes stopped when they landed on a picture of you and him, one he had no idea you'd kept. He remembered the day it was taken, Glenn had insisted on getting a picture of the two of you—

— he'd told you privately that you two'd make great friends, and he wanted Carl to branch out. You'd both agreed due to the silliness Glenn presented with the idea. He'd been so excited you couldn't reject.

And after it was taken, your silent agreement begun. You'd both stared at the picture so long Glenn thought he'd taken it 'wrong'. That was when it occurred to you both that you'd make more than good friends.

He shook his head, picking up the photo and looking at it. Flipping it over, his fingers glided over the back, which read 'Carl & Y/n' simply.

He could tell there had been more written on the back, though it was shakily erased. As if it had been something you couldn't convince yourself of.

His eyes soon caught a picture of you with everyone— Michonne, Rick, himself, and Judith. Right before you'd moved in, when they'd taken you in.

You seemed happy in this picture, he could tell that much. It made his heart flutter, though he wish it wouldn't, how happy his family made you. How happy you made them.

How happy you made him.

He put the photos down, a pit formed in him as he put certain pieces together— how many people never showed in new pictures, people he could tell hadn't made it.

The photos all showed a progression of happiness, newer photos wouldn't even feature a smile from you. He wished he could say his life had gone differently, but it hadn't.

He dropped the picture he was holding, when he saw you stood beside him, looking over his shoulder at the photos. You weren't mad, you didn't look mad, you looked.. sad.

He looked at you, analyzing the look on your face— he decided he never wanted to see you like this again. A part of him decided that this, agreement, it had to be over.

You reached over him, picking up the same photo of you and him— the one Glenn took. Clearing your throat, before breaking the silence.

"I'm really glad he took this, even if we're not close." You promised, "I used to think about what he said— he told me that we reminded him of Maggie and him."

"We act like we hate eachother in front of others, but one of us is always after the other in some way. That's what he said about us."

"He said that?"

"Yeah. I never really told you— considering the whole distance thing." You paused, looking at him, before reaching out and grabbing another photo.

"I don't even know why we took this one." The picture was a picture of you and Beth at the very beginning, goofing off, "But I'm glad we did. There was so much to her that she didn't get the chance to show."

He looked at you as you reminisced. "And this one, Tyrese told me to keep it forever, that I had to hold on to it because if either of us died it wouldn't be me."

You paused as you looked at it, "He was right." You swallowed the lump in your throat, "You think you'd lose humanity with how the world is now. I think I've only gained more."

"That's a good thing." He told you, taking the picture from you, and setting it back down. He stood up— pulling you into a hug.

"You keep them alive, Y/n. Half the shit they did for Judith would've been completely forgotten if you didn't tell her." He whispered, remembering everytime he'd hear you sharing their stories with her— with anyone that'd listen really.

"They deserve that much." You smiled at him, finally giving into the hug, "Thank you. I missed this."

"Missed what?"

"You."

He did a double take, stiffening in the hug as you continued.

"We used to be this close. When we were younger— before everything got complicated."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You're here now, so am I." You paused, wrapping your arms tighter around him.

"I want to be like Glenn and Maggie. I just didn't think you.. I didn't think you'd want that."

"Are you asking me out?"

"Maybe."

"Yes. My answer is yes."

-

Tags: @carlgrimesslover

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[brideofdiscord-rewritten]

Bride of Discord Chapter 6: The Decision

the next day, now the beginning of the next month Kimono knocked quietly at the door of the hut. The gentle roll of her hoof on the oak door gave way to the clinks of hanging metal decorum and the rattles of wood hanging next to the shiny wind chimes. There was the audible announcement of her dear friend. The door opened, notably without creaking.

"Kimono dear, please, come in! Sit down with me and let's begin."

The pony loved her peaceful greetings. "Thank you very much for inviting me here. I'm sure that you can give me all the facts without bias, from outside of ponyville."

"In that case, please be wary, what I will tell you is quite scary! Discord has angered me too, so unbiased fact I cannot give you!"

Kimono snorted. "If I get caught with fake news you're coming down with me!"

"no my friend, you're sorely mistaken! If you are caught I won't be Forsaken!"

"YOURE COMPLICIT! THERE CAN BE NO WITNESSES!"

They howled in laughter as they pretended to square up, before they stopped only because zecora nearly knocked down a jar of roots.

"Ive known the week's chaos as the product of discord's reign throughout equestria from letters. I wrote much down whilst touring ponyville. But I have no idea what happened at the canterlot castle, nor do I know what is happening in this forest."

Zecora spoke slowly, so as to give the pony across from her time to write it all down for the archives. kimono was the keeper of all pony history, and did her best to upkeep her reputation as the mare to go to for knowledge. Zecora looked on as she scrunched her face, stuck her tongue out, and attempted to focus and knew she could be a pony that learns around her. They were mutualists and learned from each other.

Her train of speech of interrupted with Kimono's questions.

"and what of his demands?"

Zecora tensed and scratched her chin. "A bride he demands, as well as land. His next demand is awfully unique. They can't use the elements to defend the meek."

Kimono sipped her Rooibos mango tea.

"and what would he want- in a PLOTTING manner, with a bride?"

"A "plotting manner" is precisely the issue, to hurt his bride I don't think he'd wish to. Perhaps it's love the creature seeks? I don't know, to me he won't speak."

"it has to be somepony... Somepony who can handle prolonged isolation."

"Applejack sent a letter a while back, saying that fluttershy's about to crack. She considers marrying the draconequus. Apple's trying to disparage this wish."

Kimono frowned, her eyebrows screwing up into a sympathetic expression. "Maybe fluttershy thinks it'll bring her purpose. When ponies make big decisions such as this, a sense of inferiority or insignificance is the root cause."

"if that's where the decision resides, she should know she's made great strides."

"Let's send her a letter, I will help you!"

Another 30 minutes passed and betwixt tea, parchment, and ink the ponies sent Fluttershy a letter of comfort and as much advice as they could give. Zecora advised Kimono to sweep the path leading up to where she lived, for fear of evil forces affecting her. Of course, not before sweeping her own porch and blowing up on it cinnamon from her hoof.

"Applejack, some pony has to go with him. What choice do I have?"

"There are plenty of ponies in Equestria! It doesn't have to be you!"

"But how many do you think would be willing to go?"

"I…well…"

"This is my choice, Applejack. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, Sugar Cube. I've seen you face up to a manticore and a full-grown dragon. But Discord…" She sighed. "Look, I just don't want you to get hurt, and I know the others don't wanna lose you to that…"

"If I don't go, no one will. The sun will never be in your pastures again!"

Applejack stared up at her friend with blurry eyes and then hung her head. "I can't stop you shug. I want'cha to be happy with the rest of your life, y'know."

"I can be happy this way applejack." The mare lifted her friend's head with her gentle hoof, caressing her Cheech as gently as she could while a small tear soaked into her coat.

"Just…promise me you'll write. And even if he don't let ya see the letters, just know I'll still be writin' em."

The cold and unyielding castle they housed felt warmer.

Fluttershy embraced her friend. "I knew you'd understand, Applejack." When she pulled away, she smiled smugly. "So what's this with you and rainbow? You've both been going to Rarity's more often!" The farm pony bolted upright

Applejack turned beet, (or rather apple,) red. "It ain't nothin'! Really! It's just an idea!"

"What would THAT be, applejack?"

"Rarity really likes us both real bad, but she dont wanna date just one mare. It's this poly-whatsit thing..." her very ears seemed to flush red. "Me and dash ain't dating, but we're both... goin steady with Rarity. It's kinda embarrassin'. Ya can't tell any pony, ya hear?"

Fluttershy giggled. She squealed in awe "Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye! You're just like a filly again!"

Applejack nudged her shoulders.

Fluttershy said nothing and headed towards her room. Applejack caught up with her before she could close the door.

"Fluttershy," she called, "whatever you choose, I just want you to know…"

She turned to her. "Yes?"

"You…you just might be the bravest pony I've ever known."

Fluttershy smiled, knowing that it was always the truth with her. "That really means a lot to me, Applejack."

That night, she slept lightly, slumped over a large circular pillow, and a small parchment wrapped in her hooves. of, and the words that her friends had written: "He may not be an angel from above,but perhaps what he needa is love" The words soothed her. The more she thought about it, the less worried she was. She was scared, but never terrified. She liked to think it was all true. Discord is an animal just like her, so he surely has a heart, doesn't he? And hearts are the symbols of love.

Twilight gazed out her window. The sun hadn't risen in the week leading up to this month. The moon seemed to fly away from the earth. There was nothing left amongst the clouds. There was nothing. This was the before, the dreamscape.

A cry from Rainbow Dash interrupted her thoughts. "YO EVERYONE! Twilight! You'se not gonna believe it!"

"What is it?" the princess demanded.

"It's Fluttershy, she's gone! She freakin' did it!!"

Twilight didn't waste a second and followed the pegasus to Fluttershy's room. Rarity, Pinkie, Applejack and Spike surrounded the empty bed. The dragon held a note in his claws. The unicorn removed it with her magic and read it aloud:

"Dear Fluttershy,

Do not let the needs of the few outweigh the needs of self. In turn, the needs of your mind being filled will save everyone who matters. Go to the draconequus, if it's truly what you wish. He's not be an angel from above, but perhaps what he needs is love."

Every pony turned suspiciously towards Applejack, who bore the expression of a foal who'd eaten a lemon for the first time.

The cowgirl stomped her hoof. "She did it! She gone and did it! I tried to talk her out of it, I really did! She made me Pinkie Promise not to say nothin' before she did it!"

"Calm down, Applejack. What happened?"

What would've been daybreak. The sun should've illuminated the foggy dew kissing the plants that reached towards the great pink-orange heavens. Instead, there was what only looked like night.

She took a deep breath and looked up at them with tears in her eyes.

"Hello?" she called out weakly. "Anyone home?"

Fluttershy stood at the cave entrance. A part of her was telling her to turn back, but another was telling her to go in. She had to do this for her friends, for the princesses, for Equestria. She inhaled deeply and walked in.

It was dark, but that's not what frightened her. She had the feeling that he was going to jump out at any moment. Stop it, Fluttershy, she told herself. You need to be brave.

"Well, well, well."

She yelped in surprise and spun around to find the draconequus standing over her.

"If it isn't the Element of Kindness herself? How nice of you to drop in!"

Suddenly, the ground beneath her disappeared and Fluttershy screamed as she fell through a hole. She landed with a thump and looked around to find that she had landed in the same spot that she had fallen.

"How did…?" she stammered.

Discord laughed maniacally. "Oh, that was priceless!" He wiped away a tear. "So what brings you here, horsey? Come to negotiate some more?"

Fluttershy struggled to stand, as her knees were shaking. "Well, I have come to negotiate something…" the term "horsey" made her blood boil.

"Strange that Twilight would send you to try to reason with me. Well, you can tell your precious princess that I will only take a bride and that's final!"

"And a bride you shall have!"

Discord stared at her, shocked at her sudden outburst. "Is that so? Well, where is the lucky mare?" His outfit appeared as that of a game show host.

Her teeth started chattering. "R-right…h-here."

He blinked. "Say again?"

Fluttershy closed her eyes and straightened up. "I will be your bride."

For a long while, there was silence and she opened her eyes to see his face full of confusion. Then he erupted into a roar of laughter.

"Oh, I get it! This is a joke, right? Alright, who put you up to this? Twilight? Maybe that prankster Pinkie Pie?" She did not respond. "Rainbow Dash?"

"They…don't even know I'm here. Well, they should by now. I left them a note."

"Why would you leave them a…? Nevermind!" Buzzers and Foghorns pelted her ears. Flashing colorful neon lights and confetti brightened up the scenery.

He would have never expected her, the pegasus afraid of her own shadow, to accept his offer. Actually, he was beginning to think no pony would come forth at all.

"And no pony put you up to this?"

She shook her head. "This was my decision. But…" She backed away nervously. "If you'd rather have some pony else…"

"Now hold on!" She jumped as he appeared behind her. "I didn't say I wasn't interested."

He circled her, studying her carefully from every angle. Comedically, of course; with an oversized magnifying glass he examined her like a crime scene. He'd never stand there and check her out like a pervert. He lifted the mare's hoof and studied her well kempt horseshoes. Her hooves, which had been through so much for years, perfect because of this hunk of metal.

"hey now, where'd you get that made? And does it come in more sizes?" He popped off his hoof and showed her the size 13 mens' label.

Discord had to admit, for a pony, she wasn't that bad to look at. Her silky pink mane was well-groomed and smelled of honeysuckle, her big teal eyes, though closed now, were almost adorable, and her voice was sweet as honey. This must have been a trick of some sort. There was no way this pony could have come out of her own free will, but he knew she wasn't a trickster. Besides, when was he going to get another chance to do this!

He poofed a giant boom box now held above his head as he stood there, in a white snapback, open white button up shirt, and baggy white pants. The boom box blasted throughout the air, making the nearby corvids fly away in sheer awe of the smooth R&B caressing their pathetic bird lives.

"You'll do," he said with indifference. "But are you certain this is what you want, my dear?"

°°I vow, To never call you out your name

I vow, To treat you as me the same°°

Fluttershy looked up at him boldly. "If I were to go with you, you will keep your promise and let the princesses go?"

"My dear," he said with a bow, "you have my word."

°I vow, To cover that with love actions and words

I vow, To talk to you sincerely°

"And…my friends?"

"Will never hear from me again."

She gulped. "Nor me?"

He stooped down to her, his face just inches from hers. "Of course they can talk to you! It's just that I would have to send you back, and that's against our agreement! So, letters will have to do. Don't you want your every need catered to?"

°°To bow down at your feet, Not to worship you as a God, But as a queen°°

"Catered to my every need?"

"If we are to be married, what's mine is yours. If it is in my power, I shall give you whatever you desire. Call it a prenup."

She could not tell if he was serious. Being offered whatever she desired did sound tempting, but why would he do that for her? Perhaps Zecora and Kimono were right. Maybe he was desperate for a companion.

Seeing that he was getting to her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. "So what'll it be, my dear?"

It didn't matter. Equestria needed the princesses returned. She breathed in.

"I'll marry you."

"Excellent!" He leapt excitedly into the air.

"Now where are the princesses?"

Instead of answering, he smirked. "Why don't we make it official?"

He snapped his fingers and a box materialized in his paw. He opened it to reveal a sparkling diamond ring. Intricately carved within it was words.

"Oh dear," Fluttershy muttered.

He chuckled. "I'll ask again. Will you marry me, my dear Fluttershy?"

"Fluttershy, don't!"

The pegasus turned to see Twilight racing towards them, the others running behind. The song

°Me and you Against the world, No matter what comes up before us baby-° the music abruptly stopped.

"DUDE I THOUGHT YOU WERE JOKING!" Rainbow shook fluttershy. Applejack carried dash to the ground and kept her as close as possible.

Discord stopped them all with his magic. "Do you mind? I'm in the middle of a proposal here!"

"Put them down!" Fluttershy begged. "Please, just let me say goodbye to them!"

He rolled his eyes and released them from his spell. Fluttershy rushed to Twilight's side.

"you shouldn't have come after me, I'm grown! I know what I'm doing!"

"We couldn't let you go with him!" the unicorn bellowed, pointing accusingly at the draconequus.

"You don't understand. I have to do this."

"No, you don't! There has to be another way!"

"If I don't do this, Equestria's doomed for all eternity. I'll be doomed! This is the safest option."

"But do you have any idea what this monster might do to you?!" Pinkie shouted, "he might just lock you in a tower!

"Now, THATS A harmful stereotype-"

"No pony chooses my fate but me."

"Fluttershy," Rarity pleaded, "you can't possibly marry this…beast!"

Discord dramatically clutched his pearls.

"I'm sorry, but this is my decision."

"But Fluttershy," Pinkie sniffed. "We'll never see you again."

She looked at her friends sadly. "I know."

"We'll find another way to get the princesses back!" Twilight insisted. "I'll even go in your place! We'll…"

"She's right!" Applejack interrupted. They all turned to her in shock. "Fluttershy's the only pony in control of her destiny. If her decision is to save Equestria, we should respect that decision." She walked up to her friend. "You take care of yourself, ya hear?"

Fluttershy nodded and embraced the earth pony. "Make sure my animals get everything they need."

"Of course, Sugar Cube."

"Fluttershy," Rainbow started to say as she flew down to her. "You can't…you won't…"

She hugged her childhood friend. "You stood up for me so many times. Now I can return the favor."

She hovered over to Rarity. "You can keep my clothes, if you like."

The unicorn was astonished. "Darling, you can't expect me to…" She stopped as she too received a hug. "Don't be silly. I'll send them over."

Fluttershy then turned to the pink earth pony. "Pinkie Pie, I…"

Pinkie let out a wail and flung her hooves around her neck. "Don't forget us, okay? I mean even if you'll never see us again, don't forget our names! I mean it's easy to forget a pony's name after not seeing them for a while and…"

"I won't forget you, Pinkie."

She sniffed and hugged tighter. "I know."

Once Pinkie had loosened her grip, Fluttershy turned to Spike. Before she could say anything, he wrapped his arms around her legs with a whine. She then looked up at Twilight, who was on the verge of tears.

"I'll be fine," she assured her. "I promise."

How can you possibly keep that promise?" the unicorn choked.

"You know how good I am with creatures." The rest she said in a whisper. "I think I can tame him."

"But…but…"

"For equestria."

She nodded and embraced her. Discord was about ready to gag.

"Hello?" he called, waving the ring box. "Waiting for an answer here!"

Fluttershy pulled away from her friends and courageously faced the draconequus. She stuck out her hoof and uttered, "Yes, I'll do it."

Discord smiled in triumph as he zapped the box away. The ring then reappeared on a chain around Fluttershy's neck. The draconequus cackled as he scooped his bride-to-be in his arms. The ponies watched in horror.

"If you hurt a hair on her head…!" Rainbow warned.

"I assure you, she won't be harmed. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a wedding to plan!"

With a final triumphant laugh, Discord vanished with Fluttershy and in their place, the three princesses appeared, their horns restored to their heads.

"What's happened?" Luna demanded. "Where's Discord?"

The ponies burst into tears. Applejack was the only one with the strength to speak.

"He's…taken a bride."

Their eyes widened. "Who?" Celestia asked. In receiving no response, she beseeched her student. "Twilight? Who did he take?"

The purple alicorn buried her face in her hooves, knowing her friend was gone because of her failure as a princess. "I'm sorry, Fluttershy…I'm so, so sorry!"

[aspd-culture]

ED anon here, genuinely thank you for such a kind response, it was actually very helpful and even soothing. I've been attempting some self help shit today by writing out my thoughts and researching something called "emotional impermanence", and I think I've cooled down substantially.

Last night my flare hit a peak and I got a lot of my reactivity out by way of crying, frantic pacing, and ramming my body into hard surfaces until I collapsed from exhaustion. I may have bruised a rib bc it hurts to breathe, hoping nothing's cracked.

I did message him in my desperation (had been for a few days like the pitiful, codependent creature that I am) but thankfully it wasn't anything nasty, just extremely pathetic. Sent one more this morning telling him he doesn't need to worry, that I'm okay and making it clear that I'm giving him space (with zero expectations of an answer) and that I love him.

I'm going to do my best to use the coping strategies you listed as I feel they're very applicable to my situation. And you were spot on with your reply as he's the sweetest, kindest, funniest, most creative and dependable and lovable and loving person I've ever met and tbh I really hope he doesn't kick himself too hard when he gets back to me. The last thing he deserves is to feel like a bad friend, he's got nothing to feel guilty for but he probably will anyway. He goes through so much. He deserves the world. I'd kill and die and suffer for him. I'm going to make him gifts.

I still have a strong urge to slice the fat off my body though, so I won't take my knives out of the safe just yet. I think the most absurd thing about this relapse is that I may have been suppressing shit with weed, and it all erupted when I ran out. I think that's a sign that I ought to stay sober long enough to do some inner work.

Thanks again, I appreciate the space you've created here and all the thought and effort you put into trying to help me. Thank you.

I am so happy to hear that I've helped at least some. You are doing a great job, and it sounds like you're learning about how to decrease the risk of a relapse this intense in future which is always a good thing. I bet it's probably not as "pathetic" to a prosocial person as it seems to you. Tbh almost everything I've done that I've seen as pathetic has been referenced in the future by prosocials around me as me being open/honest/vulnerable.

I'm here if you need anything. You got this. :)

Be safe as best you can.

[let-them-sing-of-others]

okay dragon series!! one of them is aurelian cycle, but you already know about that one

a second I'm fond of is The Memoirs of Lady Trent by Marie Brennan. These are the memoirs of now-old world renowned dragon naturalist Isabella Trent, who's the leading expert in the field and shaped it into what it is today, changing the world. follow her story from childhood to where she is today, how she discovered her passion for dragons, the challenges she had to overcome as a woman scientist in a basically victorian era society. facing both physical challenges and the politics of science, it's mixed with a delightfully analytical and animalistic portrayal of dragons from her travels around the world. also has some, in my opinion, quite lovely relationships of several kinds. it has a bit of an unexpected twist in book 5, but it was pre-planned and not out of nowhere; i simply wasn't expecting it. Isabella has such a lovely voice and enthralling story--AND!! if you read the physical books, there's so many illustrations they're beautiful! please please read they're so good

another is A Chorus of Dragons by Jenn Lyons, which, my god where do I even begin to explain this one. it's a story about breaking cycles and how power corrupts even when you give it to "good" people, about what you can justify when you start seeing people as statistics. we follow our mc Kihrin, thief raised in a brothel who learns he's a missing prince, but he barely spends any time there before finding out that's the least important part of who he is, and the gods (who aren't actually gods, they're just powerful people who've been treated like gods) have actually been manipulating him for several lifetimes as their key wild card in a several millenia long demon war. there's a wide cast of well balanced characters, majority of which are queer, and who are real. this series is so incredibly confusing but you enjoy it, because everything works in cycles. the ending was planned from the beginning and if you're into worldbuilding, my GOD will you love this because it's so fuckin intricate. this series genuinely changed how I thought about literature and is one of the best series I've read in a long time. there's so much too it I can't really explain it because it's SO specific and detailed. but i will beg on my knees for everyone to read it please please please please please

hope that helps :)

DRAGONS!!! this helps immensely, thank you quil!!!

i’ll have to see if any of my local bookstores have the memoirs of lady trent, since i AM a fan of illustrations… not super optimistic but i can probably get them off thriftbooks if not. it’s a very interesting premise i haven’t seen before, writing a memoir from a character’s point of view, but it sounds like something i’d enjoy!!!

i did crack open ruin of kings one time at a b&n in like boston, and from what i’ve seen it ALSO has a funky format, so i think i’ll like that as well — unfortunately i did not buy it (did not have enough money on me) but i’ll probably be able to get that on audiobook or find an epub sometime :)

very excited to finally get some more dragon books!!! am still recovering from the aurelian cycle so it will probably take a while but. they are on the back burner of my mind now <3

[butlerowl]

I've spent 5h drawing and probably 10h learning skeleton anatomy.

"The queen on his chessboard"

Slimy tentacle grabbed the chair nearby and smashed it into the wall. Nobody moved for good couple minutes, the atmosphere grew so suspenseful it felt wrong to even breathe. Eventually Nightmare turned his back on the other two in the room and gazed at the wall before him. It was full of photos, notes and long hand-written reports.

Taking an advantage of the quiet moment Dust handed Horror a small note. Crack-head looked up at his Boss one more time and trying his best to not disturb the quietness of the room, opened the little scrap of paper. Inside there were written just three letters 'K' 'C' 'E' and a biggish question mark.

Horror turned the note on the other side, but before he could even find something to write with, they heard a loud sigh before them. Neither realised that Nightmare had been secretly looking at them for a while now. "Killer has been sent to scout, but he got into trouble with this color-guy." Color and Killer together has never been good news for any of them, especially for Nightmare. "Cross completely changed sides now and is with Dream at the moment, similar to Error, with this whole truce of his." The glitch was known for fighting where it brings him more benefits, he didn't really pick sides. That Cross guy however he did what Nightmare told him to, because he was his last chance at the time, now that he had better options his betrayal wasn't unexpected.

"Are we doing anything about them?" Dust asked in a low voice, he'd never tell, but he was definitely afraid to anger him.

"..." He has once again turned his back to look at the wall, before he spoke. "You two aren't. We're stretched too thin for too much enemies, I'll go get Killer and we'll see next." As he said he started using his magic, as it turned out just a moment later, to create a portal for himself and jump out of this universal space. Horror and Dust were left all alone puzzled by the situation. They couldn't even ask any other question before he was gone, it was just as if he was in a hurry.

On the other side in some empty space that he was taken to Killer has been fighting Other's words out of his mind. "You're just his pawn Sans! Snap out of it." He has said as he dodged another hit of a knife.

His oponent stood up and looked at him, he was pissed. "Once again. I'm. Killer." He said in a serious metallic voice. Inside he has been begging to be out of here as soon as possible. And just like a wish come true, he's seen a dark mass forming not too far away from the place they've been at.

"Listen to me! You can reset now. Go back to how it was, to your brother." A delicate string has been pulled, Killer squeezed his hand on his weapon and attacked once again, Color defended himself by building a wall of bones between them.

He didn't answer this one. Maybe because he was right or perhaps because there was really no way of going back. Nonetheless he didn't have to choose.

Right before a fatal injury Other realised who else is in the void and shortcuted a couple of meters away.

"Boss!" Killer chuckled and walked up to the slimy dark guardian. "My prince on a black horse." He laughed, but his attention was fully focused on his opponent and what he was about to do.

Color was on a losing position he could dodge and defend himself from Killer all he wanted, but Nightmare was a huge problem. Even more that the longer they would fight the stronger he would become. He had to flee.

But before it, he looked at Killer one more time, he was surrounded by tentacles that wriggled and twisted around his body, giving the impression that it's doing it gently. Killer smiled, he didn't seem oppressed, but how could he if he didn't truly feel anymore.

With that final thought, he escaped.

The tentacles truly were all around him, but as far as he was concerned he knew they weren't out to hurt him, not now anyway. "Can you walk?" Nightmare asked without even looking at him, as his tendrils kept on whirling around his bones. He didn't know it, but right at that moment his Boss was checking his condition.

"Yeah." He said, slightly pushing a single slimy branch away.

Without saying anything a portal opened up and pulled both of them in. It was probably the grossest way of transporting in the whole multiverse, but they soon were back in the room.

Dust and Horror were already standing in the room, on the table behind them was placed a white metal box. Killer looked at it, as Horror put his hand on it, he shooked his head, but the other skeleton just locked his gaze on thier Boss who was long gone with his thoughts looking at the plan-wall.

They've been in a problematic position nonetheless.

On the other side of the multiverse, the Star Sanses and thier temporary allies has been planing as well.

"Currently Nightmare has three henchmen as we are aware of it." Ink spoke as he put a magnet with Horror's image on a white board. He looked at Cross with intention.

Cross raised his head at this and looked at the board. It meant he was supposed to say what he knew, probably. "He's barely ever seen in battle, if bos- I mean, Nightmare sends him to fight it means it's serious." He took a breath to continue, but Ink already started babbling on himself.

"His defense is bad and he's generally pretty easy to prevail, except that he's awfully strong. You need to watch out for his axe, his main weapon, but he's not defenses without it. Don't ever underestimate him. Next." He picked a Dust magnes and stucked it to the whiteboard.

Cross waited a moment, before he spoke, just to make sure he won't be rudely interrupted this time. "Dust is.. dangerous at the least. He usually lets his opponent go into offensive and only defends himself for a period of time. He's basically Horror's opposite, he won't fight back and he can take really much, up until he sees an opportunity to strike. Normally he's not using too much power or strength, but if he's going for that technic it can be fatal."

Ink nodded his head in agreement. "Right. Watch out for a distraction from his Phantom too."

Swap picked up the last magnet before Ink managed to get to it. "And Killer, he's the least problematic one, no?"

Ink put his hand on his jaw into thinking position, but then he started nodding slowly. "Probably."

"Yeah, all he has is his LV and knifes. Nothing special I can easily take him on." Cross mumbled. Dream raised his head first time in this conversation, he thought a moment about saying something, but Error managed to be first.

He also wasn't too active in the conversation, but the mentioned opponent made him want to make a small note. "Good, cause I can't take him, he just keeps on cutting my stings, unless he's out of knives, I won't be able to capture him."

Cross shook his head. "That'll be hard, he's got a knife in each of his sleeve, litteraly and not only. Nonetheless our biggest threat is still Nightmare."

That was the point Dream got up, for a moment they thought it was the mention of his brother's name, up until he spoke. "Are you serious? You think Killer is no threat?"

Swap looked at him and quickly lowered his head. Ink noticed it, but decided not to acknowledge it yet. "He's a threat alright. But each of us has fought with him at least once, probably."

Dream shook his head and straighten his back. "I think you're forgetting about something." Ink was puzzled, his pupil changed shape into a question mark. "We've only ever fought him when his soul was somehow stable."

Error and Ink looked quickly at eachother and then back at the positivity Guardian. "You mean his third stage? That never happened."

"That's because Nightmare keeps it that way, but now he's pushed into a corner, we have to be ready for anything." Dream said and took the magnet from Blue.

"Wait. It doesn't make sense, Nightmare keeps his pawn's soul stable? Shouldn't he do the very opposite?" Cross was confused, he didn't even know what stages were they talking about.

Dream look into his hand, into the empty eyeholes of the drawn skeleton. "Not really stable, stage 2, deceitful and devious. Night won't let the third one roam unwisely." He sighed and handed Ink the magnet, which he put on the white board. "And he's not just a pawn. He's the Queen on his chessboard."

Ink and Error had something of a gaze conversation going on and Cross was just confused. Swap looked at Dream without saying anything. The Great Sans was a specialist in riddles, he knew how chess works and he knew just how much that meant.

Killer sat down on the slope of the roof. "Hey Boss?" Nightmare wriggled his tentacle, he knew it was equalent to a simple 'yeah'. "You grew stronger in the past few weeks didn't you?" He raised his head to look at the pitch black illusion of a sky. Here in his void, even the stars seemed to be dark.

"I've managed to find a way to get rid of the good emotions I kept collecting on my way thay weakened me." Nightmare explained, his voice was soft, but low, just one step from whispering, it didn't feel like he really wanted to tell Killer about it. After a moment he spoke again. "Why so sudden?"

"... I'm just thinking, because lately I've heard that each of us is getting his upgrade of sorts? Y'know?" Killer layed down and closed his eyes. Nightmare was sitting right next to him and he felt like there was no threat for him in the whole of this universe.

Nightmare lowered his head to look at what's below them. "People grow Killer, they became wiser and stronger with time."

"Right..." He let air out softly.

He glanced at his company for a moment, waiting for some continuation. "But?"

He didn't get an answer right away. Killer opened his eyes thinking, sure if he was right, Boss would be aware of it sooner or later, yet he didn't wanna become a problem that quick. He looked at Nightmare, but his eyes clearly demanded an answer, whatever would it be. "When you came for me today... I felt.. good? I dunno, it was something unusual."

Night looked at him for a moment longer, as if he was analyzing not just his face, but his very being. "Has it really been so long you forgot what gratefulness feels like?"

Killer raised himself up quickly. He was ready to apologize, before it struck him that he, Killer, felt something, an actual emotion. And right at that moment he could swear he saw a slight smile on his Boss' face.

This story is one of Springverse's fore-story, kinda. For now there's no point in explaining, but since the stories are usually gonna seem pretty random, I'll make a Time Line. Hopefully you enjoyed!

I'll make a table of credits (for characters etc) soon, I'll edit this post then. For now:

Something new, Killer Sans (rahafwabas) Dreamtale, Nightmare & Dream Sans (jokublog) Other Sans (superyoumna) Horror Sans (sourapplestudios) Dust Sans (ask-dusttale) Ink Sans (comyet) Error Sans (loverofpiggies) Swap Sans (underswapped) Cross Sans (jakei95)

[cup-noodle]

3, 5, 6, 8, 13, and 18 for the fanfic new year asks!

Alright let's go, thanks for the ask!! It got long so I put it under the cut

3. Do you anticipate writing for a new fandom this year? Which one?

Honestly, I probably will! I've only put out two fics and one original work so far, so there's a good chance of getting attacked by a fic idea for something else and writing it. Currently I've been back in the Top Gun: Maverick brainrot so it might be that!

5. Which WIP is first on your list to complete this year? Will you post a snippet?

You probably guessed this one but I'm hoping to wrap up Project Jade sometime this year (probably in summer), it's been the one I've been working on for over a year now. Although some shorter fics might happen before that if inspiration strikes. For a snippet, you can have this one from a later chapter:

Her eyes flitted over to the closet door. Inside, underneath her box of winter shoes, lay hidden the files. Had she known how much hell those pieces of paper would raise for them, she never would have opened her mouth in that hallway. Never.

They'd decided keeping the files close and secret was the best plan of action for the moment. They didn't know what else to do but hold on to them and wait until an opportunity to do some real damage presented itself - that's why they were waiting.

That's what Freya kept telling herself, anyways. That's and what she and Oscar had agreed on. But in truth, there was another thing at play. She knew what kind of power those files possessed, and she was scared shitless. They had seen first-hand the ramifications of interfering with the wrong people, and she wanted nothing more than to forget about it all. To stop worrying about who was going to drop dead next. But it couldn't be nearly that simple.

So she closed the notebook, threw a pillow onto the floor next to Oscar with his laptop, and took a seat. "Alright, what now?"

"You're the green chicken," he hurried to explain, pointing at the avatar of a neon green hen with a comically large knife in its beak. "You have the arrows to move, Q for attack, and- Hey, stop laughing! This is deadly serious," he chided, but she couldn't help but crack up too as they locked eyes. As far as distractions went, this would do just fine.

6. Which yet-to-be-started fic is first on your list?

Like I said I've been thinking about Top Gun: Maverick a lot and I've got a pretty detailed idea for a 5+1 fic about Mav and Rooster over the course of the kid's life. More specifically it's five moments when Mav has to parent Bradley after Goose's death and has no idea what he's doing, and then one time when he knows exactly what to do (at the end of the movie, unsurprisingly).

8. Is there a story idea in your mental vault that you’ve never been brave enough to try writing? Is this the year? Can you tell us about it?

At some point I'd really love to try writing something more dystopian or apocalyptic (or post-apocalyptic), I adore those kind of settings. I have some vague ideas but nothing concrete yet, and honestly I doubt anything's gonna happen this year cause I already have a big project on my hands. Hopefully sometime in the future though!

13. Aside from fanfic, are there any other fan works you’d like to try creating? Fanart, or fanvids, gifsets, or podfic? 

I occasionally do some drawing and fanart, so I'd love to do more of that if I have time. Learning how to draw people has been a pain in the ass but getting better at drawing characters is the current goal. Gotta do my blorbos justice.

18. Do you typically post multi-chapters as you write, or finish it all and then start posting? Would you like to change your posting method?

I've done one two-parter and one longer multi-chapter thing, and for both I did something in between. I like to have a fair amount written for the whole thing before posting anything, and then I write the missing bits and edit chapter by chapter as I go. It does result in pretty inconsistent posting but I'm a sucker for feedback and wanting to post it helps with motivation, so I'm sticking with it for the moment.

[sysig]

I really should clean up that KoiBo essay I started, I got like 3k words deep and it was all just mushy rambling about how much I love Souichi

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

not jealous | jake sim

summary: jake sim is not a jealous person. at least that's what he tells himself. so why does he find himself going through your phone when a certain "bluejay park" decides to text you?

pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. mentions of jay park]

genre: angst, fluff 

warnings: angst, cursing (very minimal), one slightly suggestive sentence, jake being cute, some more angst lol, slightly cheesy bc jake’s just too cute ugh

wc: 3.8k

a/n: ok i loved writing this, which is why i went on to almost 4k words LOL oops. but anyways, i love jake a little too much and this type of scenario has been running around in my head for a while now so i decided to put it into words. also i may have created this blog just so i could post this somewhere LMAO anyways yeah this was my first fic so hope you guys enjoyyyy <3

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

At least that's what he tells himself. To be fair, in his past relationships, he never showed any jealously. Then again, he doesn't know if he can call those relationships, "relationships". Does a fifth grade relationship with a girl who he was once dared to kiss during a game of Truth or Dare in the basement of a classmate's house during their 11th birthday party count? He doesn't remember being jealous when the same girl was later dared to kiss his classmate, Sunghoon. (Funny enough, that's how the two boys came to be best friends 'til this day, but that's a story for another time.) 

But really, Jake doesn't think jealously is one of his traits, even if he's now almost 20 years old without any experience with love other than his current relationship with you and that short-lived romance in the fifth grade. (What was her name again? Jake would have to ask Sunghoon later.)

So he doesn't know what clicked in that brain of his that lead him to this current situation he was in. He doesn't know why he felt a little spark of anger in him when your phone, which you left right next to him on the couch while you went to take a shower, kept buzzing with texts from "bluejay park". He doesn't know why he couldn't kept his eyes distracted from the messages, although your phone was constantly lighting up because whatever it was Jay had to say to you, he would not shut up about it. He doesn't know why he questioned what your relationship with Jay was for a split second.

In fact, you're close with all of Jake's friends. That's one of his favorite things about you, you get along so well with all his friends you might as well replace Jake himself in the friend group. So he doesn't know what tells him to take a little glance at your phone—at the messages.

But he finds himself doing it anyways.

Hearing that the water in the shower was still running (you were always the type to take long showers), he quickly grabs your phone and scrolls through the lock screen just to find that he couldn't even read the messages since you had your notifications set so no one could read them unless the phone was unlocked (darn you and your settings!) Thankfully, Jake knew your passcode––and you knew his too––or he thought he did. Until the iPhone vibrated, telling him the passcode was wrong.

He must've entered it too fast or something. So he tries again.

And again.

And again.

Until the iPhone switches its screen to say: "iPhone is disabled. Try again in 5 minutes."

There's no way. You never change your password. And even if you did, you would tell him—you two even had each other's fingerprints saved into each other's phones in the past (you know, before the world decided that Apple's home button was too lame and decided to just completely get rid of it). If there was an option to save multiple faces for Face ID, you two would be that couple that saved each others faces in your own phones.

That being said, Jake sat there, your phone in hand, frozen. Why was your phone locked? Why was Jay texting you 10 texts per second? Why did he feel guilty about this entire situation?

He hears the shower switch off and in that moment, he swears he feels his heart beat just a little faster. He tells himself there's no way you'll be out before the 5 minutes are up. You followed a really meticulous skincare routine (one that Jake memorized by now) that took an extra 15 minutes of your time after each shower.

"Hey Jake?" Your voice calls out from the tiny bathroom door crack that you left open before you hopped in the shower, "Is my phone out there? Do you mind bringing it to me?"

Fuck.

Jake shifts on the couch. Taps his foot on the ground. Returns your phone to its original spot. Clears his throat.

"Don't you want to get dressed first?" he calls back, quite timidly.

He can hear you stop moving around in the bathroom. Probably telling yourself what an odd response that was. To be fair, it was an odd question, considering the fact that you two have been together for so long, it’s not like he hasn’t seen you undressed before...intentionally or not. 

Next thing he knows, the steam is rolling out of the bathroom door and you're stepping out in your towel, eyebrows raised.

"If you didn't want to get up from the couch, you could've just said so, you lazy butt," you smirk at him as you walk towards him and the couch, leaving a faint trail of water drops behind you. Jake's eyes follow your figure as you go to grab your phone and lift the screen towards yourself.

That's when he freezes. You do too.

You cock your head, as if asking yourself why it was disabled. He can hear the gears in your head turning.

"Jake, did you try to unlock my phone?"

He runs through all the possible excuses he could blurt out. Come on Jake, think of something! But he knows he can't lie to you.

Too many beats of silence pass by.

"Maybe," he finally says—or more like murmurs. He looks up to you like a child looking up at their mom, who just them caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. To his surprise, you don't show any hint of anger. A flash of confusion—and is that worry he sees?—crosses your face for a split second before you shrug and turn towards your room to change, dropping the subject. It was natural for you two to use each other's phones anyways. So then why did you have that look of worry?

Jake knows you well, a little too well. But that's what you love about him. He can easily read all your emotions. One of the many things he picked up from dating you for almost two years now. But why would you care if he tried to get into your phone? Why would that worry you? All the possibilities run through head and his own worry begins to increase. He trusts you. He does.

So then why does the thought bother him throughout the entire day? Why does he bring it up during dinner later that night, when you're both cuddled on your sofa, slurping take-out ramen while rewatching your favorite k-drama under the thick blanket that you always keep in your living room for nights like these?

"Huh? Of course I've heard from Jay today, we had that conversation about that stupid meme you boys kept laughing about in the groupchat we're all in, didn't we?" You answer him when he asks if you've heard from Jay lately. You sit up from your warm spot under Jake's arm to put your empty bowl on the coffee table in front of you. When you lean back, you look up at him,

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just wondering," he says, avoiding your eyes by keeping his own trained on the series currently playing on your TV. This would be your third time rewatching this series together. He would never complain to you though, he knows how much you love it and if he were being honest, he was secretly attached to the characters—not that he would ever tell you, he would never hear the end of it from you and the boys.

"You're being weird. Just tell me, or did you forget that I can practically read your mind," you say with a giggle and shove to his side, the one you were currently warmly cuddled into. Jake wasn't the only one who learned how to read emotions; you could read him just as well as he could read you. And like you, that's one of the many things he loved about you. But maybe not in this case.

He toyed around with the contents inside his ramen bowl with his chopsticks.

"I just..." God, how does he word this? Why was he having trouble explaining it? You were the easiest person to talk to. To him, you were the only person he could tell everything to.

"Jaywastextingyouabunchearlier," he blurts out quickly, but not quickly enough for you to miss it.

He feels you shift under his arm. He feels the air in the room shift. Tension.

"What?" Now you're sitting upright, legs criss-crossed in front of you on the couch but turned, so your body is completely facing him. He mirrors you, sitting up to put his ramen bowl next to yours on the surface, but he stays facing the TV.

"Your phone kept going off because of him when you were showering," he says with a little more confidence. But inside, he was nervous as hell, the same nervous as when he asked you out for the first time many moons ago. But it's too late to back out now, he brought it up first, anyways. Guess we're having this conversation now, good going Jake!

"Is that why you tried unlocking my phone earlier? I mean I thought you were just trying to leave selfies on my phone like you always do but you were trying to read my texts?" You question, slightly raising your soft voice. He doesn't know how to react, he hates confrontation.

"It wasn't like that, Jay just kept spamming you and like I—why was he even texting you in the first place? Then your phone got disabled because you changed your password, which you never do by the way, so I–"

"I changed it because my little sister kept getting into my phone when I went to visit my family yesterday! Did you really think I was hiding something from you? You know I can text whoever I want, right? You don't own me."

Okay so now he's managed to make you angry. Good going Jake, part 2!

"Okay but what does Jay need from you so bad that he has to send you like 50 messages at once?" He's standing now. So are you, eyebrows furrowed together as you collect your bowls from the table.

Standing there, bowls in hand, you say, "Jake, that's none of your business! It wasn't even that big of a deal, I don't know why you felt the need to nosy around."

"Well, if he's texting you non-stop, then obviously it's a big deal! We wouldn't even be having this conversation if you would just tell me what you guys were talking about," he murmurs back, eyes narrowing. You scoff as you trail into your kitchen. He follows behind and stops at the other side at your kitchen island as you place the dirty dishes into the sink.

"No, we're having this conversation because you obviously don't trust me! It doesn't matter what we were talking about, it doesn't matter who I was texting! I could be texting your mother and I shouldn't have to tell you what we were talking about! That's why we're having this conversation," you say as you turn back to face him from the other end.

He hates this. He hates fighting with you (which is a very, very rare occasion). He hates that you think he doesn't trust you. He hates his insecurity eating at him, telling him to keep questioning you on why you and Jay were talking in the first place. He was aware that you were close with his friends, but it wasn't until the texts he realized just how close you are with them. It's not that he didn't trust you, he just didn't know how to act when it came to you and other guys. God knows how he got lucky enough to meet you, let alone date you, so the thought of him losing you to someone else actually terrified him. Not only were you his first real relationship, but he wanted you to be his first and only one in life. You were it for him.

"Why did he text you." He deadpans from his side of the kitchen.

You scoff with a hint of exasperation. "You're kidding me."

You stare at him. He stares back, quirking an eyebrow, as if restating the same question back, as if testing you.

You're fuming now. Why was he making it so hard? Why was he doubting you? Out of frustration, you start laughing, which scares him. That can't be good.

"Fine. You wanna know so bad? Take a look,"  you're one tone level away from screaming as you take your phone out of your pocket, unlock it, and open up your conversation with "bluejay park", sliding the phone across the island to reach him.

Jake stares at the phone which now lies there, unlocked, facing him. Isn't this what he wanted? It is, right? That's why he started this dreaded argument with you in the first place.

Then why does he feel so fucking awful?

He looks back up at you, to see you sighing and looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to force your forming tears back into your eyes.

Yup, he feels horrible.

"Happy? Happy to know we were just trying to plan a surprise birthday party for you but you and your jealously just had to know huh, Jake?" You quickly state, voice cracking, as you tried not to choke up. You weren't sad that he found out about the surprise. You were sad that it felt like he didn't trust you. That he thought you were the type of person to do god knows what behind his back. You hated the feeling of not being trusted. Especially by Jake, of all people.

"Fuck."

Jake's face (and heart) falls with the most broken expression you've ever seen. But you're too sad, angry, tired (a mix of all?) to care. Your only goal right now is to not let him see you cry.

You hurry past him, across your apartment, and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you, leaving behind a shocked, and regretful, Jake.

His heart shrinks when he hears the door slam shut and a little more when he looks down at the still unlocked phone in front of him. He didn't have the heart in him to look at it anymore. Of course he trusted you, he knew what you said was the truth.

He mentally screams at himself for assuming the worst––for thinking that you, a literal angel, would betray him.  First, he thought he was losing you to someone else. Now, he was afraid he just lost you through his own actions. 

He hesitantly sulks over to your door, softly knocking when he reaches it.

"Y/N?"

No response.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I let my—”

"Jake just please leave me alone for now," he hears you painfully say from a distance, meaning you're on your bed. He knows the door's unlocked—the lock on your door hasn't been working for a long time now, despite the many times he tells you to talk to your landlord about it. But he doesn't find it in him to open it. He knows he messed up. If he saw you in there right now, crying, he wouldn't know what to do. He wouldn't know what he would to do himself, knowing he was the reason behind your tears.

He nods in silence, knowing you can't see him, but does so anyways and returns to his spot on the couch. He could leave right now, go back to the dorm with the rest of the guys, let you have your space like you wanted. But his heart hurts at the idea of leaving you sad, angry, or a combination of both. He can't leave this unresolved. He fucked up, he has to fix it.

And so he sits on your couch for another hour. The clock on the wall behind him continues to tick as the silent tension in your apartment continues to grow. When it hits 11pm and he's sure you've slumbered off into sleep, he quietly enters your room.

He can see your figure in the dark, your back facing the door as you're curled up into yourself under the comforter. He feels his heart drop a little more when he imagines you crying in that position from earlier. He slowly peels the comforter open and gets into his side of the bed, careful not to bother your sleeping figure.

Laying there, staring up at the ceiling, he's never felt more like a stranger in your bed. It's not that he hasn't slept over before, god knows he's probably slept over at your place more than he has in his own bed. But right now, in this moment, he just felt awful. Like he didn't deserve to be in such close proximity to you. How could he be deserving? He violated your privacy, made you feel like you weren't trusted, doubted your relationship.

These thoughts run through Jake's head as he stares up at your ceiling fan, wishing he could turn back time to a few hours ago, before he checked your phone, before he let his insecurities get to the best of him.

You can feel the dip he makes in the bed behind you when he gets in. Of course you're not asleep. There's no way sleep could reach you when you had the recent events constantly replaying in your head like a broken record.

You knew Jake with all your heart. You didn't have to look at him to know he was probably laying there, hurt, staring up at the ceiling, drafting what to say once you wake up—or once he knows you're actually still awake.

You decide to break the tension by turning to lay on your other side, facing him.

You were wrong. Thanks to the little sliver of moonlight shining through your sheer curtains, you can see him, now laying on his side, already looking at you with so much regret in his eyes. You can almost hear the cracks in your heart physically forming.

His eyes widen when he realizes you're still awake. He opens his mouth to say something, but not before you quickly shift over to his side of the bed and embrace him in a tight hold, burying your face into his chest. Without any hesitation, he returns the gesture, arms holding your body as close to him as possible. As if once he let go, he'd lose you forever.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he breathes you in. He didn't even know he was holding his breath all this time.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry Y/N," he mutters into your hair. He feels his hoodie getting wet from where you buried your face. He pulls you closer, if that's even possible, feeling his own eyes heating up with sadness. He would never forgive himself for making you feel this way.

"You know I trust you right? Please know that. I shouldn't have assumed the worst when I saw your phone. I...I let my insecurities get to the best of me."

You move your head from its home on his chest to look up at him, as if asking him to elaborate. This was new to you, you didn't know he held insecurities in your relationship. But it wasn't because of you, no, you were his entire world. Losing you meant losing everything.

Jake's never been the best at saying his feelings. That's why it took him so long (with the help of his six best friends) to finally confess how he felt about you. He was afraid of letting people in if they could easily walk out. Maybe that's why he never let anyone into his life before you. But oh, were you an exception. The second he met you, he knew he was fucked. But thank god he did, because thanks to you, he's been able to be more open, more vulnerable. He's able to talk to you about anything and everything. He doesn't have that same fear of losing people anymore, not when he has you in his life to reassure him every step of the way. But right now, in this moment, he doesn't know how to tell you that his new fear was, in fact, just losing you.

The sheer idea of you not being a part of his life anymore terrified him. 

"I hope you know you're never going to lose me Jake, if that's what you're insecure about," you softly mutter as you wrap your free arm that's not stuck in between both your bodies around him to gently play with the ends of his hair. It's as if you could read his mind, he loves that you know him so well.

"It just sucks that you could even think I would ever do something as awful as what you were assuming...with one of your closest friends nonetheless," you continue.

"I know. I know, and I feel terrible. I'm so sorry. I know you would never do anything remotely close to that, and I know you would never intentionally try to keep anything from me," he sighs. He shifts so he can lie down on his back, bringing you with him to lie on his chest, never letting you go once. "It's just...I just don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you Y/N. Everyday, I ask myself what heroic thing I must've done in my past life to deserve this life with you and I can't help but think you could just as easily be stripped away from me."

As much as your heart breaks listening to him rant, you feel your love for him grow even more. You knew how hard it was for him to put his true emotions into words, and him telling you this reminded you how much trust he had in you.

After some moments of silence, moments of him drawing random shapes onto your back, moments of you two just holding each other like it was the end of the world, you speak up.

"I love you. I'm sorry for making you doubt yourself—"

"No, it's not your fault, I can't help but think things like that. I just don't know what I did to deserve you, and I know that I need to be mo–"

"Babe let me finish," you say with a little giggle in your tone. He immediately stops and mutters a little "sorry". How cute, you tell yourself.

"I was gonna say," you look back up at him so you're making direct eye contact now. "You're the only one that's ever on my mind, Jake. I can't help the way you think, but I can assure you that there is no one else I would rather be with. And I mean that for the rest of life."

You snuggle back into the comfortable hoodie he's currently wearing (you make a mental note to yourself to steal it from him later) and decide to ease the tension,

"So you're stuck with me for life, sorry to inform you Mr. Sim."

Jake lets out a laugh, looking down at you to see you returning his smile with a cheeky one.

"I love you. So much," he says so sincerely, so genuinely, that you almost tear up again from how content you were. Now you were asking yourself, what did you do to deserve him?

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

No, he just loves you.

A lot.

[mxtcha-tea]

domestic shiratorizawa

⊹summary; the life inside the dorms of shiratorizawa

⊹pilots; gn![y/n], ushijima, tendou, semi, yamagata, reon, kawanishi, shirabu, goshiki (pairings showed; yamagata x reader, goshiki x reader)

⊹genre; fluff, crack and some cursings (no proofread)

⊹flight details; i've once made a domestic imagines in my old blog so imma make a small reboot of it <3

random shopping

normal day, normal life. you could've seen yourself laying or even napping in your room while a compilation of minecraft songs plays in the background. but no. instead, you're inside an antique shop with Yamagata, Ushijima and Tendou.

you have no idea when, or how did the process happened but you surely is done with getting dragged inside the shop by Tendou and Yamagata.

while Ushijima's stuck on a section, you don't know where, but he's definitely stuck there, "[y/n]! look at what i found,"

Yamagata called you as you turned around to see him holding up a pretty heavy doll. you raise your brow, "what the hell is that?" walking towards him and taking a closer look at the object in hand,

"i think it's a, um, i think a matryoska doll? matroyska? is that how you say it?" "why're you asking me, i don't know jack shit about russian stuff,"

"ah you mean, matryoshka doll?" Tendou butted in, startling you two, "it's also called a 'nesting doll' and did you actually know that it was actually originated from china?"

Yamagata's eyes practically sparkled at that with a surprised look, "from china? really?"

you can only roll your eyes, "and how can you even know all that?" Tendou snickered and put on a smug face, "i'm actually very smart, y'know. ya'll just don't know about it," "says the person in class 2,"

"i blame the mathematic old hags for adding letters in math, and the apple that fucking hit my man Isaac," you tsk'ed and walk towards the next section. Yamagata passive aggressively put the matryoshka doll down and follow after you along with Tendou,

"also, we need to find ushijima, i think he's stuck in some section between here...ah there," you stopped walking and turn to your right where you find Ushijima reading a book.

Tendou skipped towards him and smack his shoulder, "you okay, wakatoshi-kun? you sure did took longer to look at the stuff here," while Tendou chats with Ushijima, Yamagata look up at the shelves as something caught his eyes.

he tried to reach it while tip toing but due to his height, he can't reach it. then, he jumped from his spot to grab the object but end up hitting his head onto the board, "AGH, FUCK!" which causes you all to look at him, watching him hold his head while shivering from the pain,

"are you okay, yamagata?" ushijima ask, putting back the book on the shelves, "yeah, yeah, i'm just tryna get that," he shakes his head before pointing up.

you followed his finger and caught a glimpse of an old polaroid. it's a little bit dusty but other than that, it looks new. Ushijima reached it from his spot and managed to grab it, "here,"

he hands it to Yamagata as he instantly recovered from his recent pain and snatch it from Ushijima's hand, subtly thanking him with a grin, "why do you even need a polaroid?" Tendou asked, leaning his arm over Ushijima's shoulder with one brow up,

"pfft, for journaling of course,"

a gust of wind went through you while staring at him with a poker face, the same with Tendou with a small cat like smile. Ushijima just looked the same,

"okay," "WHAT'S WITH THE TONE??" you blinked and just knit your eyebrows, "i mean, since when you started journaling? you're not even the type of person to do something aesthetic,"

he pouted and just crosses his arms, "so what? that doesn't mean i can't do it, right? have faith in me god darn it. and honestly, my journal looks good so far," "well, fine,"

you waved your hand at him and continue going through the other section. and just like that, "hey wait!" Yamagata tailed after you.

Tendou snickered at the two and focus back on Ushijima, who's still watching the display yet again, "have you thought of what to buy wakatoshi-kun?" "i'm not sure, there's a lot of interesting stuff here," "well, you've only been in this section but okay~"

studying

"agh, why did those idiots really have to call me at this time...?"

you groaned, slowly walking through the halls with a slouched figure. tracing your fingers along the wall with a dejected look. you're suppose to sleep today.

an hour or two long sleep. it's finally the weekend which means the time for you to sleep all of your problems away. drifting into slumber with fluffy pillows and warm blankets, enjoying your dream as long as you can.

until your ringtone annoyingly rings next to your ear. you answer the call, and again greeted by the most annoying human in the planet,

"[y/n], we need you at the gym right now!"

"huh? oh fuck off Tendou, i need to sleep right now,"

"nuh uh, you can sleep later after you go to the gym,"

"why? are you, i don't know, practicing or something?"

"you have to find out. if you don't move your ass from that bed, we'll send Hayato to wake you up~"

". . ."

and now, you find yourself standing in front of the door of shiratorizawa's volleyball gym. not only that Tendou wakes you up from your sleep, you also had to WALK all the way from your dorm to the gym,

"i'm gonna add more time to their practices after this..."

sliding the door open, you expect them to be doing serves or maybe spikes.

but instead, you're seeing them—as in the 3rd years—all sitting down at the middle of the court, with books around them.

and what's even more confusing is that they somehow managed to bring a table inside. no, not the flip-able table.

literally a whole ass table.

Reon looks up from his book and notices your figure standing on the door way. he waves his hand at you, you did the same but still with a confused look.

Yamagata was next to see you as he abruptly stand up from his spot, shaking the table in the process,

"Hayato! stop shaking the table," "oops, sorry. ah, wait, [y/n]!"

that caught all of the boys attention as they look at you, "what taking you so long to arrive?" Tendou asked, a pen rested in between his upper lip and nose.

Semi smacked him in the face—earning an 'ow'—before shaking his head,

"their dorm is literally far from the gym, and why do you even proposed your idea of studying at the gym anyway?"

you make your way towards them, Reon patting the empty spot next to him. you sat down on your spot as Yamagata did the same. seemed like he was waiting for you.

Tendou rubbed his nose and pouted at Semi, "this was the best place to study anyway! it have much more room,"

"we should've gone to the cafeteria OR the LIBRARY," Semi groaned, looking back at his book before writing on it,

"pfft, the cafeteria's no fun. and i got banned from the library," Reon looks at Tendou with confusion, "well, it's not surprising,"

Tendou shrugged, "i was also banned from the library," Ushijima said, not looking up from his notes as you knit your eyebrows at that,

"you're also banned from the library? Satori, what did you and Ushijima did—" "anyways, um,"

he cut you off, fidgeting with his pen before pointing it at you, "right, you need to tutor us on this subject~!"

you blinked, looking down at the book they're studying about, "haven't the teacher covered this already?"

"well, i'm sorry, class 6. but we have no idea how this thing works. maybe only Reon, but look at Semi,"

Tendou wrapped his arm around Semi's neck, practically head locking him, "he's from class 1 and i think you should teach him about this the most," "I'll rip your fucking head off, Tendou!"

while both of them tried to strangle each other, Yamagata caught your attention next,

"and also, it won't be fun without you, y'know," Reon nodded, "and don't forget that you can't leave me alone in this,"

"oh right," "hm? what was that?" Yamagata asked. you just shake your head with a defeated smile, "nothing..."

after clearing your throat, you snatched Semi's book away before flipping through the pages,

"okay you scumbags, it's time to learn,"

oblivious enough

the birds chirped from the tree, the hallway's as loud as ever. Semi and Tendou's leaning against the window, each of them drinking apple juice and eating yakisoba bread.

it was silence between them before Semi spoke, "hey, Tendou," "yes Semi-Semi?" "y'know,"

Semi turned his head to look at Tendou as the redhead did the same, "have you, noticed the relationship between [y/n] and Yamagata lately?"

the latter made a thinking face, before nodding, "hm, seems so,"

"do you think, either one of them ever noticed about it?" Tendou shakes his head at the question, "nope, i don't think they do. in fact, they might be completely oblivious to it,"

Semi snickered, "right, like that one time..."

"[y/n], do you think my lips are dry right now?"

you look up from your clipboard, seeing Yamagata pointing his lips, "hm, nah. they're fine, but if you want, i can but on some lip balm,"

his eyes sparkled at that as he nodded his head with excitement, "sure!" you walk towards your bag with Yamagata following you. opening the zipper and search inside it, you pull out your lip balm,

"here, hold still," you put a hand on his cheek while the other applies lip balm onto his lips. it was a slow process but he managed to not move at all while making eye contact with you.

once you finished applying, he pop his lips before humming, "mn, cherry," "let me know if you need anything else,"

he nodded with now flushed cheeks as he smile at you. you did the same, gently patting his arm.

from a distance, Shirabu looks at them with a disgusted look, "ugh, can't they be more subtle about it,"

Kawanishi shrugged, "just let them be,"

"how can i redo my memory? i don't need to see that this early," "well, what if it was us?" "i would be twice as grossed, i can put my own lip balm," "hm yeah, you're right, i honestly would be like that too," "good,"

"haha yeah, now that i think about it, they do it all the time right?" Tendou nodded at Semi's statement before hearing the all too familiar voice just a few meters away from them,

"[y/n]!"

you turned your head around while still sipping your drink. Yamagata stood in front of you, holding out his visibly crumpled necktie with a small smile,

"my necktie!" "ah again? whatever," you give your drink to him as he hold it for you.

grabbing the necktie from his hand, looping it around his collar shirt and started tying it with a concentrated look,

"i can't say that it'll be clean when i finished tying it," "it's okay! that's why i'm asking you to do it, messy or not, at least i have it on," "hm, yeah,"

after you finished tying it and patting it a little, Yamagata hugged you, "thank you!" "yeah, you're welcome,"

the aura literally radiates on the slightly crowded hallway as some of the students who passed you talked among themselves.

Semi and Tendou stared at you two, expressionless eyes but with a small smile,

'ah, right,'

Tendou sighed, intertwining his fingers together and lifting it up to his cheeks, "ah, young love~"

"we're all the same age,"

"young love~"

bonus; reliable kouhai

lifeless.

is what goshiki would say when he took a few glances at you from his book. you promised to tutor him about this subject he's struggling on. but didn't really expect to see your slouched form walking inside the library.

he's not even sure if you even hear anything you're saying right now, "get a shovel and two-" your head hit the table, creating a loud sound and catching the attention of almost everyone inside the library,

"[y/n]-senpai, um, are you okay??" you groaned and rapidly blink your eyes, covering your forehead, "yeah, 'm just..."

a yawn escaped from your mouth before you can even finish your sentence, "...tired. those stupid senpais of yours need help tutoring too even tho being grown ass men,"

goshiki closes his book and creating a small 'thump', snapping you out from your mind,

"well, if that so then you didn't have to come, you could've just tell me and i would be fine with it!" your hoarse laugh caught him off guard as a shade of red ran across his cheeks, "i can't break a promise, tsutomu. why do you even think i agree on tutoring you?"

"uh, cause you want to help me with my studies?" "one of it, and cause i enjoy tutoring you," he can feel his cheeks heating up more when you made eye contact with him, a small smile laced upon your face,

"and honestly, you're smarter than i thought. class 4 right? that's cool," he looked away, trying to calm his nerves down, "t-thanks! a lot of people thought i was in a lower class, so i, i appreciate it,"

goshiki took a peek at you, now burying your face onto your face, "also, senpai," "hm?"

"you should take a nap for now, i think i can start understanding this formula," you slightly look up at him, "you sure? i was prolly talking craps just now," "yeah! your health is more important anyway,"

you hum, offering him a warm smile, "thanks, i know i can count on you," you rested onto your side and close your eyes. lips slightly parted and just like that, you're deep in your dreams.

he pursed his lips, slowly leaning against the table to look at your face. it's calm, peaceful and beautiful, kissable lips. he wonder if he could lean in a little closer until you two-

goshiki instantly jolted up and hit himself on the head, face's covered in the color red, 'no! don't think about that, curse you Tendou-San for introducing me to those mangas...'

Tendou's faces ran across his mind as he grunted,

'why're they so pretty??'

[tryingmybestpls]

Not A Team: Part 2- New World Order

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: The Reader gives a speech at the opening of Steve’s exhibit and has a talk with Sam following his speech.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER, talks of death, talks of mental illness, feelings of isolation

Read Part One here

Listen to the playlist inspired by the series here

Y/N felt like coming here today was a mistake.

Her stomach tossed and turned like a stormy sea, threatening to send her breakfast all over Rhodey's shiny shoes. She was second guessing everything. Was her dress nice enough? Rhodey had told her she looked great, but she hadn't worn a dress since Steve's funeral-Oh God, what if he was lying to her? No, he wouldn't lie to her-but what if he felt bad? Jesus, dd her shoes look stupid? Maybe she shouldn't have worn heels-but then she always wore heels with dresses and if she wore flats that would look childish. Did her speech sound coherent? Fuck, what if she messes up. Would they think she was doing it on purpose out of retribution for what Steve did? No, they didn't know what Steve did, what he had done to her. What if-

"Hey, hey. What's wrong? You look like you're going to blow chunks." Rhodey cuts through her thoughts like a hot knife through butter. He puts his hand on her back, "Breathe, Y/N."

"Maybe this a bad idea, Rhodey. I mean they have Sam. I think Sam can handle this." She stumbles over her words, trying to calm herself down. Her heart was racing a hundred miles a minute and she swore her hands were shaking,

"You're going to be okay, but you need to relax. I've read and reread your speech a dozen times. It's perfect." Rhodey tries to soothe her, his hand rubbing her back. Y/N squeezes her eyes shut, working on slowing her breathing. In through her nose and out through her mouth.

"Hey pretty lady, I was wondering where the exhibit is. I'm supposed to be giving a speech there today." A voice calls out, sending Y/N's eyes flying open. She turns on her heels, being greeted by the sight of Sam walking towards them, holding the leather case that carries the shield. Y/N can feel the tension melting out of her shoulders as a smile spreads across her nervous face.

"Rhodey, I think they might be letting anyone speak here today." Y/N teases, the anxiousness slipping away, releasing its hold on her. Rhodey chuckles, shaking his head at his friend's antics. She hadn't seen Sam since the days following Steve's funeral and right now, he's a welcome sight. Sam rests his hand over his heart, feigning hurt as he gets closer.

"You wound me, woman." Sam jokes, smiling right back at her. They embrace, her arms wrapping around his neck as his go around her waist, "I missed you, kid."

"I've missed you too, Sammy." She murmurs back, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. They pull away and Sam smiles at her, the skin around his eyes wrinkling. Rhodey clears his throat, gently touching Y/N's upper arm.

"Hey I need to go talk to some people, alright?" Rhodey announces, almost as if he is asking permission. Y/N just smiles and nods, the smile staying on her face until he walks away from the two.

"How are you feeling, Y/N?" Sam questions, to which Y/N sighs, looking down at her shoes.  She stays quiet for a moment, feeling his eyes on her.

"You want the truth or you want me to tell you what I tell Rhodey?" She replies, looking back at him. Y/N shifts from one foot to another, glad they were far from the crowd that was gathering. He gives her a look, giving her an answer without opening his mouth. She sighs again, twisting her wedding ring around her finger.

"I don't sleep, not really. I get maybe an hour a night if I am lucky. I-The house is filled with boxes that I can't unpack because-" Her voice cracks, her chest rising and falling quickly. She bites the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to not cry, "I thought that leaving the apartment would make him go away, but it didn't."

"Well Steve was always stubborn." Sam responds, making a laugh bubble out of her throat before she could stop it. There was an "I'm sorry" buried in the joke and Y/N knew it, but decided to only focus on the joke.

-

The stage looked daunting.

She forced herself up those steps, the person who had introduced her still had his hand outstretched towards her. Y/N wondered if she could make a run for it. Sure people will be mad at her, but she won't be forcing herself through this. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, the clapping nothing but a ringing in her ears. For a moment, her eyes landed on the giant banner of her husband, a lump forming in her throat. He was watching over her, his face emotionless as his eyes seemingly followed her every step. Cameras flashed as she stood on the stage, striding over to the podium. Once she stood in front of it, a hush fell over the crowd.

Y/N Rogers had saved thousands of lives. She was an Avenger and had faced countless foes. Hell, her wedding had more people in attendance than this event, but she still felt sick to her stomach. Y/N gave them all a smile as she forced herself to calm down, swallowing hard before speaking.

"To say that Steve Rogers was a special man is putting lightly. He was a hero that many of us, myself included, aspired to be one day. And while many of you only knew him as Captain America, I was among the lucky few that got to know him just as Steve Rogers. Now I could stand up here and tell you about every battle he won, how valiantly he fought-but everyone else is going to do that. Hell, you can read about it in the exhibit." Y/N chuckles, blinking away the tears in her eyes as the crowd laughs.

Y/N finds Rhodey and Sam in the crowd, both of them giving her smiles of encouragement. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the diamond on her wedding ring sparkling in the light. It's the first time she's worn it in a while, but it felt almost right to wear it. Once again, she's pretending like Steve didn't leave her. No, Y/N is ignoring that completely, almost blissfully. These people only know Steve as Captain America, as a god-damned American hero. She isn't going to tarnish that, won't ruin his legacy. And regardless of what Steve did to her, she is still in love with him and she wants to talk about the man she fell in love with, not the one that hurt her. Y/N inhales and exhales shakily before continuing.

"Steve was so much more than just Captain America. He was my best friend and my husband. He was the type of man to pick up flowers for you just because. The type of man to tell you that you looked really pretty even though you were covered in dirt and ash. He would let me go on and on about things that didn't even matter, but with the way he paid attention you would think that I was telling him the secrets of the world. Steve loved staying in and having movie marathons-he-he had a list he'd carry with him to write down things he needed to learn about. Before we dated, he would text me randomly, asking me why Jar Jar Binks is hated so much or asking me to explain what emojis are. He never quite got the hang gof the latter." A laugh comes out of Y/N's mouth, the crowd following suit. There was a smile on her face, a warmth spreading in her chest.

"He's the man I'll be in love with until the day I die, but then I'll fall in love all over again because I'll be able to see him again. Steve was the sweetest, kindest man I've ever met and while I will always wish we had more time together, I was lucky to have him as long as I did. We were all lucky to have him." Y/N pauses again, her throat constricting with emotion, "Even though he's gone, Steve lived a long life-a life longer than some of us get and I am happy that so many different facets of his life is going to be explored and shared with so many people. I hope you all enjoy the exhibit. Thank you."

The applause that followed was almost thunderous. Y/N smiled as her heart slammed against her ribcage, cameras flashing as she made her way off the stage. She was glad it was finally over as she moved to stand next to Rhodey and Sam. Sam kissed her cheek before he climbed up the stairs to the stage. Rhodey rubbed her back, telling her quietly that she did great. She just nodded in response, her eyes on her friend, watching as Sam leaned the shield against the plexiglass podium.

"Thank you Y/N for making my job a lot harder." Sam teases, causing everyone to chuckle. Y/N smiles right back at him, shaking her head as her friend carries on, "Steve represented the best in all of us. Courageous, righteous, hopeful. And he mastered poising stoically. "

Sam's a natural at this, standing up there like its nothing. And while Y/N should be focused on the speech, her eyes keep drifting down to the shield at his feet.

"The world has been forever changed. A few months ago, billions of people reappeared after five years away, sending the world into turmoil. We need new heroes. Ones suited for the times we're in. Symbols...are nothing without the women and men that give them meaning. And this thing," Sam chuckles, picking up the shield, "I don't know if there's ever been a greater symbol. But it's more about the man who propped it up and he's gone. So, today we honor Steve's legacy, but also, we look to the future. So thank you, Captain America. But this belongs to you."

Y/N feels sick to her stomach as she watches Sam hand the shield off. Her chest feels tight and she-she can't be here. There's a ringing on her ears and she can't breathe. Y/N pushes through the crowd, not bothering with pleasantries as she does it. A dozen emotions rack her body, causing her hands to start to heat up. She forces it down, deep down as she walks into an empty bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Sam gave away the shield.

He gave it away.

Like it was nothing.

And she wants to scream, wants to cry, but it won't come out. Y/N won't let it, not now when she is still in public. She walks over to the sinks, her hands gripping the counter. Her eyes are rimmed with red, eyes all watery. Her red painted lips press into a thin line as she forces herself to not cry, practically glaring at her reflection. What did her therapist tell her to do? Ah yes, breath in and out. In and out.

This was all too much way too soon. She couldn't handle this. She was being bombarded with memories and emotions already and now Sam giving the shield away? She felt like she was going to lose it. A part of her felt like she was overreacting. overthinking this whole situation. And maybe she was. Y/N did that from time to time. Tony had told her she was an expert of making mountains out of molehills. Maybe Sam just didn't want to be Captain America, didn't want to shoulder that burden. That was understandable. It was a shitty, shitty job-one that Sam didn't ask for. He shouldn't be forced to take on the mantle of Captain America, not when the previous owner had tossed it away so carelessly.

Yet, the bigger part of her was incredibly upset. Angry at the fact that Sam handed off the shield to be shelved in a museum. Overwhelmed by the amount of Steve that was everywhere. Confused over the multitudes of feeling that were swarming her body.

And there was nothing she could do about any of them. She just had to grin and bear it, just like she's been doing since Steve decided he much rather spend an entire lifetime with a woman he knew for a few months. So Y/N collected herself, blinked away her tears, and left the bathroom. Her feet had a mind of their own, carrying her towards the one place she didn't want to be.

The exhibit.

Steve's image is plastered on every single surface, telling the details of every part of his life. Scrawny Steve, bootcamp Steve, darling icon of patriotism during the war Steve, frozen Steve, Battle of Manhattan Steve, cartoon Steve punching Hitler, Steve during Sokovia, Steve on the run. Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve. He covers every single square inch, which makes sense because this is his exhibit. And while Y/N knows she should just turn on her heel and not put herself through it, she throws caution to the wall. She's already incredibly upset, so she might as well pour gallons and gallons of salt and lemon juice into that open wound.  So she forces herself deeper into the exhibit, running straight into the very last man she wants to see at this moment.

"You know I wasn't expecting to find you here." Sam tells her as soon as her foot enters the next room. She keeps her mouth shut, so he adds "Rhodey is looking for you."

"You know on his right sleeve of his suits, right near his wrist, he had my initials stitched. He told me he wanted to carry a piece of me into every mission, into every fight." Y/N announces as she looks at a picture of Steve on a mission, most likely taken by Natasha. Sam sighs, walking over to her, wanting her to see his point of view.

"Look I know you're upset-" He starts, but is immediately cut off by a dry chuckle slipping out of Y/N's mouth as she walks around the room. She wants to lay in to him, wants to give him a piece of her mind.

"Oh I am far past the point of being "just upset", Wilson. It wasn't yours to give away. I-I don't care if you didn't want the mantle, but..." Her angry words trail off once she realizes what part of the exhibit she has reached, her face dropping.

Y/N stops in front of a part of the exhibit labeled 'Two Heroes United'. Her eyes roam over the pictures of her and Steve's wedding and the pictures taken throughout the duration of their relationship, so much more than what the file Rhodey had left detailed. So many smiles, so much happiness filling each and every picture. Her facade is cracking, chipping away as she forces herself to study every picture, studying their faces over and over, trying to see if there was something she had missed, if-if there was something she could have said or done to hold onto him a little longer. If there was something hidden behind his smile, behind his touches, they don't reveal themselves in the photographs.

She's just a footnote in his life, a blurb at the end of a long story. A tool to make him look like an all-American family man. Bucky and Sam had much larger parts of the exhibit dedicated to their roles in Steve's life and who they are outside of being Steve's friends. Y/N-well Y/N gets this, a paragraph saying that she was on the team and then married Steve. She is just haphazardly tacked onto the story of his life, a cute story to make people feel all warm inside. He got his happily ever after, they'll say-or they'll whisper to one another God she was so lucky to have him. They won't ask if she got her happily ever after or if she feels lucky now.

Sam got to hand off the shield, got to throw away the title of Captain America. He gets to keep on living his life after this, but Y/N-Y/N will always be Steve's wife. And it doesn't matter how many people she saved or what she did with her time on earth, she will only be know for being the wife of the man who abandoned her. Y/N's tied to him for eternity, stuck loving a man who decided to love someone else.

And then, just like that, something inside of her just snaps. Her facade fully crumbles, leaving her unable to mask what she's going through.  Y/N's eyes fill up with tears and she's unable to blink them away before they spill over the edge, sending tears rolling down her cheeks. And as she stood there, crying in the middle of the exhibit dedicated to Steven Grant Rogers, a depressing epiphany popped into her mind.

The shield was the last part of Steve that she had that wasn't tainted in some way, a piece of him that she could still bear to see. And Sam had just given it away, leaving her with nothing but memories that would haunt her.

-

"I watched your speech. You did really good, Y/N." Her therapist praises, giving her a soft smile. Y/N nods, twisting her wedding ring on her finger. She had decided to start wearing it again, even though her feelings about Steve were still conflicted. While a part of her thought that this meant she was healing, Y/N knew it was more likely tied to the fact that Sam had given up the shield.

"It-It felt good." Y/N replies, shifting in her seat. She had thought it was a subtle movement, but Dr. Raynor gave her a look. After a few months of court-ordered appointments, the therapist knew Y/N all too well and she sure as hell knew when Y/N wasn't telling the truth.

"Something is upsetting you. What happened?" The doctor questions, clicking her pen. Y/N dreaded the noise. It meant a longer session, more bandaids being ripped off in order to force the wounds into the light. It would mean she would return to her home a little colder, a little emptier.

"Nothing happened. It-I had a good day. A good week." Y/N tries to reassure her, even going as far as to give her what she thought was a honest smile. Dr. Raynor held up her pad of paper, making a show of slowly bring the pen down to the paper. Y/N's smile falls and she looks down at her hands, letting out a small sigh.

"He-Sam gave away the shield. He gave it away like it was nothing." The ex-hero announces, feeling like a scolded child. Raynor lowers her pen and paper, settling back into her seat.

"And you feel like he shouldn't have?"

"No. No, Steve-Steve chose him. Steve gave him the shield because he knew that Sam was good, that Sam could handle it. And-And Sam just gave it away." Y/N stammers, picking at a thread that was hanging off her shirt.

"You know, I think that is the first time you have said his name aloud." Raynor mentions, causing Y/N to stop her movements. The thread is caught between her fingers, pulled taut. The doctor continues, "You always refer to Steve as 'he' or 'him' or 'my husband'. You never say his name."

"I don't think I was ready to be around...Steve. Not that much." Y/N tries to shift the focus, shame filling her, her face feeling hot. She knows she has her reasons not to say his name, but she still felt terrible about not being able to say his name.

"But you still spoke at the opening of his exhibit. I'm sure everyone would more than understand why you couldn't. So why did you decide on speaking?" The therapist asks, taking down a couple notes of her pad of paper. Y/N stays silent for a moment, letting go of the thread to start twisting her ring again.

"I-I don't know. Rhodey asked me and I-I guess I thought I could do it. And the speech wasn't bad I just-I wasn't expecting Sam to give away the shield." Y/N responds, her voice soft. She feels so small, sitting here on this charcoal grey couch. Y/N almost felt...stupid for being so angry at Sam. It wasn't his fault at all and as Y/N said everything out loud, she felt like such an asshole.

"If you would've known that Sam wanted to give the shield away, would you have stopped him?" Dr. Raynor replies, leaning forward slightly as she takes a few notes. Y/N feels herself sinking into the couch.

"I don't know. I-I wish he would have just told me so that we could've talked about it." She answers, looking out of the window. Dark grey clouds filled the sky, blocking out a lot of the sunlight that wanted to shine down on the city. Y/N didn't know if she would have actually forced him to keep the shield. That wasn't on him to have hold on to hat chunk of vibranium. It was wrong for Steve to have thrown that all on Sam. What would be the alternative? For her to keep the shield? Y/N highly doubted that the United States government would allow that.

-

Y/N was watering her garden when her phone started to ring in her back pocket. She quickly moves to shut off the water hose before she slips the phone about her pocket. Sam's name and picture appears on her screen, making uneasiness fill her stomach. Y/N exhales through her noise loudly before answering it, holding the phone against her ears.

"Have you seen the news?" Sam asks, not even letting her get a single syllable out.

"No, I've been outside-What's going on, Sam?" Y/N questions, making her way to the house. Something was definitely wrong. Sam never called her unless it was for emergencies. if they did communicate, it was mainly through texting. Her heartbeat started to race, as did her thoughts. A million different scenarios filled her head, each one worse than the last.

"You need to turn on the news right now." Sam replies as she opens the back door, quickly crossing the kitchen and walking into the living room. Her hands are almost shaking as she picks up the remote, turning the television on. Luckily for her, the last thing she had been watching was the news. Unluckily for her, she was greeted with a man holding the shield-Steve's shield, dressed in what looked like an off-brand, shitty version of the Captain America suit.

Anger filled her body. It had been four days tops since Sam handled off the shield and already, they had found their 'new Captain America'. The man in question was smiling smugly in the ill-fitting suit, waving at the camera, holding onto his shield tightly. God, Y/N wanted to beat the shit of the man and every single person who had okayed this. She could only hear bits and pieces of the speech as the news replayed it, but even that bullshit was too much for her to handle. She muted the television, tossing the remote on the couch.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?" Y/N exclaims, her hands getting warm. The Avenger was unable to get to anything articulate as rage filled her. She quickly put the phone on speaker, setting the device down just in case her hands caught flame.

"I know. I know. It's fucking bullshit." Sam replies, sighing. Y/N paced in front of the television, trying to calm herself down before she burned a hole through her rug. On the screen, the fake Cap was talking about something, a saccharine smile spread across his face. Y/N wanted to take that God damn shield and smash his teeth in.

"That asshole has my husband's fucking shield. They-He isn't supposed to be Captain America, okay? It's just not-It's not theirs to give away." Y/N's voice cracks towards the end, tears filling her eyes. While she wasn't Steve's number one fan, she hated that they had already chose someone to take up his title. If Sam wasn't going to be Captain America, then no one should be Captain America.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I wouldn't have given away the shield if I would've known...I'm sorry." Sam murmurs over the phone. Y/N covers her face with her almost glowing hands as she tries to control her breathing, not able to respond to Sam’s apologies. Her sadness and anger quickly shifted into something else. 

Something inside of her switched on, something that she hadn't felt in a long time, not since she was a hero, back when she was an Avenger.

Y/N wanted to go to work.

------

Not A Team taglist (if you would like to be added to the taglist please let me know!)

@lady-elena-adeline​ @simonedk​ @hersilencedscreams​ @rqmanoff​

[valdomarx]

Hi there! I love your work! I've only found your account today and I've read all of your stories! I was wondering whether you could write something about Geralt and Jaskier doing kind things for each other without realizing it just because they know each other so well. I love all of your work, so thank you!!

“Here.” Geralt tosses the package at Jaskier, who catches it with a puzzled frown.

“What’s this?” Jaskier asks, unwrapping the paper. When he sees the coiled lute strings inside, his face softens into something uncomfortably fond. “Oh, Geralt. How did you know?”

Geralt has learned Jaskier’s lute gains a slight tinny reverberation when its strings are getting worn. And when they inevitably snap, Jaskier complains and moans endlessly until he gets them replaced. Best to head off that need at the pass.

“Your lute sounds like shit,” Geralt growls.

“Everyone’s a critic,” Jaskier says with a dismissive wave of his hand. But he clutches the strings closely and continues to smile.

.

Geralt skins and cleans the rabbits, stoking the fire as he does. Jaskier has been dispatched to collect more firewood, so Geralt goes to his pack to retrieve the herbs that he insists on adding to their food. Geralt will grudgingly admit that they do improve the flavour.

In Jaskier’s pack he finds not only sprigs of sage and thyme, but also neatly bundled bunches of honeysuckle and mistletoe. He’s puzzling over this find when Jaskier returns to camp.

“You know these are poisonous to humans, right?” he indicates the bunches.

“I do in fact know that, Geralt, thank you.” Jaskier purses his lips. “I thought they might be of help in your potion making. I’ve seen you use those plants before.”

That’s... rather useful, actually. He tucks the bundles away in his potions bag, giving Jaskier an assessing gaze. Perhaps he’s been more attentive that Geralt had suspected.

Jaskier gives a shrug, not quite looking him in the eye. “I was gathering herbs anyway so I picked them while I was at it. It’s no big deal.”

.

Jaskier is shivering in the snow, his fancy doublet barely protecting him against the punishing northern weather. He’s progressed past complaining about the cold and into that concerning phase where he’s not saying anything at all. Even in the rare and blessed silence, Geralt can’t ignore the sound of his teeth chattering.

“For fuck’s sake,” Geralt scowls, unclasping his thick winter cloak from around his own neck.

He throws the garment at Jaskier. “Put that on before you freeze to death and I have to cart your lifeless corpse to the nearest village.”

.

Geralt cracks one eye open, and for his efforts gets a lance of pain through his skull. It’s always like this when the potions he takes for combat have worn off, leaving him depleted and full of aches.

He’s lucky to have a bed to sleep in. But he knows from experience that passing out straight after a job without cleaning and drying his armor is a mistake he’ll pay for in the long run.

Ignoring the pounding in his head, he props himself up on an elbow to search for the armor he dropped on the floor last night, and is surprised to see it cleaned and laid out carefully in front of the fire. Jaskier turns from where he’s wiping the grime from Geralt’s swords to tut at him.

“Go back to sleep,” Jaskier chides. “I’ve ordered some breakfast and I’ll wake you when it arrives.”

Jaskier doesn’t look like he’d accept any arguments. Fine. He can win this round. Geralt collapses back into slumber.

.

“Geralt.” Jaskier sticks his head around the door, chewing at his lip. Geralt can smell the anxiety coming off him in waves. “I find myself quite unable to sleep. It’s... far too cold in my room.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. It’s high summer and the air is thick and warm. Still, the two of them having separate rooms is not ideal. It’s harder than he would have expected, trying to sleep without the familiar patter of Jaskier’s heartbeat nearby.

“I thought we could share,” Jaskier continues, hopping from one foot to the other. “So that we might be prepared and together should any vile beast set upon us in the night.”

Geralt is fairly certain that the most dangerous beast in the vicinity is the innkeeper’s tabby cat, but he doesn’t mention that.

“Idiot,” he grumbles, thought there’s undeniably an affectionate edge to it. He makes space for Jaskier in the bed and lets out a tiny sigh of contentment as Jaskier scurries over and burrows in next to him, soft and familiar at his side.

“Curmudgeon,” Jaskier retorts, and kisses him on the cheek.

He puts an arm around Jaskier and splays a hand over his chest. Beneath his fingers, Jaskier’s heart beats strong and comforting, and finally, Geralt sleeps.

[helloalycia]

worth the wait [three] // daisy johnson

summary: when you're out chasing a story that leads you to the unanticipated hands of HYDRA, you certainly don't expect to be rescued by a girl you presumed dead for nine years.

warning/s: descriptions of violence, torture, injuries.

author’s note: here’s the next part, hope you all like it!

part one | part two | part four | part five | part six | masterlist | wattpad

Nine years later...

"I'm meeting with my contact now. He said he knows something about the weapons."

"Okay, just make sure you're safe, Y/N."

I smiled with amusement. "I always am, Taylor. I think this could be the source to break the story though. I'm gonna try and get them to speak on the record."

"Just be careful," he warned.

"Will do," I promised, before checking my watch for the time. "Okay, I gotta go. See ya."

"Good luck," he finished, and I hung up before putting my phone away.

Looking around, I saw the village was quiet seeing as it was pretty late and everyone was in their homes. It was the perfect place to meet with a source for my story on human trafficking.

I headed down the street and waited outside the apartment building for my source. I had no idea what he looked like, but nobody else would be out this late into the night, so he couldn't be hard to spot.

A few minutes passed before I saw a guy approaching me, holding some files in his hands. I straightened up and held his gaze as he stopped before me. He glanced around before looking me up and down.

"You are Y/N?" he asked with a Burmese accent.

I nodded, speaking fluent Burmese as I said, "Yes. You must be Ohnmar? We can speak Burmese if you prefer."

"Okay. We talked earlier, but it wasn't safe then. I have information on the missing residents," he answered in Burmese, before shaking the files. "It's all in here, but you mustn't open it until you get home."

I accepted the files and nodded, though was mildly confused. "Is it about the labour they're doing? I have a theory, but I have no proof. I... I think it might be HYDRA."

He pursed his lips and I figured he was confirming my thoughts, which concerned me.

"I'm right," I realised, before moving to open the file. "I need to–"

"You should've stayed away," he suddenly said in English, and I looked up in confusion.

Before I could question him, he pulled a gun from behind him and hit me on the head, knocking me to the ground. I tried to blink my eyes open, but my vision was blurred and I eventually blacked out, unable to stay awake any longer.

I woke up in a dark room with an aching head and confused mind. It took a moment for me to catch myself up, but I soon realised I'd been tricked by my contact. I was so easily fooled and I felt stupid as I hadn't seen it coming, instead too blindsided by my need for information.

Looking around, I realised I was tied to a chair. The only light in the room was from a single electric lamp plugged in the corner, shedding light on the damaged walls and, to my dismay, a HYRDA logo.

"Well, fuck," I mumbled, before shaking my wrists to try and get free, but they were tied pretty tightly with rope, making me shift uncomfortably at the chafing.

Panic started to set in when the door slammed open in front of me, flooding the room with light and making me close my eyes with discomfort. I heard another slam and opened my eyes when I saw the door closed behind whoever entered.

Two people were in the room and one of them turned the lamp, shining it in my direction and also revealing my assailants' faces. One of them was Ohnmar, my contact, which I guess wasn't his real name. The other wasn't anybody I recognised, and they were both wearing uniforms with the HYDRA logo on the pocket.

"I wouldn't try to escape if I were you," the fake Ohnmar said.

I clicked my tongue and looked between the both of them. "I'm guessing I got a little too close to the truth which is why I'm here. Right?"

"You've been putting your nose in where it doesn't belong," the other guy said. "Did you really think you would get away with this? That we'd let you write about this?!"

I flinched at his loud volume before clearing my throat. "I didn't think I needed your permission. And in case you didn't notice, it's my job to report on this."

Fake Ohnmar scoffed. "We don't care what your job is. Now tell us what you know and what you've told your superiors back home."

I narrowed my eyes. "Do you really think this is the first time I've been captured? I've spent nine months in this village. If you think I'm going to throw that away for you, you better think again."

Fake Ohnmar's friend cracked his neck, pacing with discomfort, before pulling out a gun. I chewed on the inside of my mouth, nerves settling as I tried not to show it.

"We have someone going through your electronics as we speak," he told me, gripping his gun. "Your superiors will get their updates as expected, but you won't be giving them."

"Look, you're gonna kill me whether I tell you or no–"

I was cut off when he smacked me across the face with his gun, making me see stars momentarily. I felt something warm gush from my nose and realised I was bleeding.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with," he muttered, his face inches from my face as he stared me down threateningly. "Now tell us what you know of the missing villagers."

I wiped my nose on my shirt the best I could and chose not to speak. They couldn't do much without knowing what I knew. Everything I'd learnt had been sent back home to the news organisation I worked for, and if I didn't get back to them or call them, they'd know what happened.

"Two things I despise," he mumbled with irritation. "Journalists and Americans." He waved to his friend dismissively. "She won't talk. You know what to do."

Fake Ohnmar nodded obediently before suddenly punching me in the face, once again, leaving me dazed. This went on for a while, him beating me up as an attempt at torture, before the two of them left me alone to 'think about' if I wanted to tell them.

I had been in this situation, surprisingly, two times before in my journalistic career. Both times I was able to get out either by escaping myself or managing to get found by the authorities. Of course, in this case, the latter seemed impossible, so my only hope was escaping myself.

I looked around, but realised I was in too much pain to hatch a plan right now. They'd done a good job on me, and I was sure my ribs were bruised pretty badly. Honestly, I didn't expect nine months of investigative journalism in Myanmar to lead to HYDRA of all places.

—

"You've beat me, starved me..." I coughed because of how dry my throat was. "I'm not talking."

Fake Ohnmar placed something rectangular on the table in front of me. I realised it was my laptop – they must have taken it from where I'd left it in the room I'd been renting downtown.

"You're clever, I'll give you that," he said, crossing his arms and shaking his gun impatiently. "Where did you learn such complicated encryptions?"

I couldn't help but smile when I knew he couldn't get into my laptop. At least not the parts that exposed what I'd learnt so far.

"You do what I do and you learn from past mistakes," I told him, making him clench his jaw.

It wasn't much, probably the only trick in the book I knew as I wasn't exactly an expert with computers. Clearly it was benefiting me today though.

He slammed his hand on the table suddenly, making me jump. "Tell me the password, now!"

I licked my dry lips, choosing to stay quiet. I began to wonder just how advanced these guys were if they couldn't even afford to get a hacker to break through.

"So it's gonna be like that," he said with a shrug, before pointing his gun at my face.

He flicked off the safety and I closed my eyes as calmly as I could, already saying my goodbyes in my head. A few days in a HYDRA cell was like weeks anywhere else. I'd accepted my fate.

I expected the shot to go off any minute now, wondering what things would be like afterwards. Would it hurt? Would it be an instant death?

I certainly didn't expect my left ear to be ringing as an excruciating pain shot up my neck from my shoulder. My eyes opened and I tried to breathe through the pain whilst hoping my ear would stop ringing. The man began to laugh, but I couldn't hear him, only see his evil smile.

When I looked down, I saw blood seeping from a bullet wound in my left shoulder. Despite my experience in this profession, I can't say I'd ever been shot before. It certainly hurt a lot more than I'd imagined.

"You talk and I get you patched up," he said when my hearing returned to normal. I looked up and saw him watching me with narrowed eyes. "You stay quiet and we see how long it takes for you to bleed out."

I swallowed hard, squeezing my eyes shut to contain the pain, before opening them again.

"You're gonna move operations," I realised aloud. "You want to know whether you can. Because if I've told them about you, you know you can't stay here much longer. And if I haven't, you just get rid of me."

He squeezed his gun with irritation, watching as I spoke the truth.

"But either way I die," I repeated. "So why the hell would I want the last thing I do be to help you?"

He grabbed the laptop before kicking the table away with anger. "Call when you feel like talking. We can make your death quick and painless or long and painful."

I smiled bitterly as I watched him leave the room, slamming the door behind him. I released a deep breath as I looked down at my shoulder, trying to make out the damage. I didn't know much about first aid, but I was pretty sure there was no exit wound meaning the bullet was still in there. That was good, right? Or wasn't it...? I couldn't remember. I just knew it hurt like hell.

—

Hours had passed and I began to hallucinate. Silly things like cheeseburgers and dancing water bottles – lack of food and drink, the blood loss and the heat was making my head spin. I wasn't sure if this was where I wanted to die – in a small, dirty, hot room by myself. Was it worth it? Dying over a news story?

Of course it was. I pursued this story after some social media posts about disappearing villagers in Myanmar. I stayed here nine months with each day leading me closer and closer to the supposed human trafficking that was going on. I got to where I was because I wanted to get justice for those who suffered and stop anyone else from suffering. Yet the only people who knew were my editors back home, and I wasn't sure they'd ever know the full truth.

It was better than helping the enemy though.

Just when I thought cheeseburgers were the worst of my delusions, I saw a face I hadn't thought about in a long time. A person who I least expected my mind to drag up in a time like this.

The door opened and I was sure I was going to be questioned again, but in ran none other than Skye. The same Skye who had ran away all those years ago and wasn't to be found.

She looked a little older with her shorter hair, but otherwise she was just as I remembered.

"Hey, I'm gonna get you out of h– Y/N?" she started, before furrowing her eyebrows with confusion.

She even sounded the same, and if I could feel anything at that moment, I'm sure I would've felt my heart beating quickly at the sight of her.

"Can you hear me?"

I began to laugh with what little energy I had left. Is this what it was like to die? Seeing things that you'd pushed down for so long to stop your heart from hurting? It was strange. Why was my mind playing with me like this?

"Y/N, look at me, can you hear me?!" she asked quickly, grabbing my face and forcing me to meet her eyes.

I continued to laugh because it all felt so real. Her touch, her voice, her eyes that peered into me. I wished it was because maybe after all of these years I could have made things right.

—

"Miss, can you hear me? Y/N?"

I blinked the tiredness from my eyes and opened them, trying to remember what was happening. But I was confused and my body was numb and nothing made sense.

"Y/N, sweetie, can you hear me?"

I turned my head, realising I was laying in a bed. There was a woman beside my bed – a doctor, I presumed – staring down at me with a friendly smile on her face. I nodded slowly, my mouth dry.

I couldn't remember getting out of that cell, being rescued. Unless I wasn't rescued and this was still a trap.

At this thought, I widened my eyes and tried to move, panic setting in, but I was attached to a bunch of tubes and my body was still numb.

"Hey, it's okay, you're okay," the doctor tried to reassure, resting her hands on my arm, trying to keep me still. "You're safe here. You're on a S.H.I.E.L.D. quinjet. That's like a plane...? We got you out of that HYDRA cell and I've bandaged your wounds. You don't need to be afraid anymore."

I wasn't sure whether to believe her, but something about the way she spoke and the kindness in her eyes made me relax.

"My name is Agent Simmons," she introduced as she grabbed something from beside me, "but you can call me Jemma."

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. On cue, she held a glass of water towards me and helped me sit up enough to have some from the straw. It felt good to have actual water in my system after not being given anything the past two days.

"Not too quickly," she said gently. "Take your time."

I listened to her before laying back down. It took a few tries, but I managed to get out, "Thank you, Jemma. I'm Y/N."

"Y/N Y/L/N, investigative journalist for the New York Times," she stated before an apologetic expression crossed her face. "Sorry. Facial recognition an' all... I hope that doesn't freak you out."

I sighed, not the slightest bit surprised. I knew enough about S.H.I.E.L.D. to know they had the resources to know exactly who I was.

"I don't remember you getting me," I said with confusion. "How did you I know I was there?"

Jemma took a seat on the stool beside my bed. "Well, technically it was Quake who got you out. We had reports of HYDRA activity in that area for a while and we knew an American journalist had been taken, but we didn't know it was you."

I nodded, though I was still confused. "Who's Quake?"

Jemma chuckled, thinking I was joking. But when I met her eyes with confused ones, she lost her smile.

"You're serious? You don't know who Quake is?"

I shook my head. "I've been in Myanmar for nine months, and not in the most advanced areas. I haven't had much access to American news."

"Seriously?" she asked with disbelief, before putting her arms out and shaking them. "Earthquake-causing, vibration-manipulating, tremor-shaking superhero Quake?"

I raised an eyebrow judgementally, making Jemma lower her arms sheepishly.

"Oh, well, she's a hero that works for S.H.I.E.L.D.," she explained.

I nodded slowly, deciding that was something to ask more about later on. For now, I was more concerned about my story.

"You said S.H.I.E.L.D. had been watching that area for a while," I recalled. "Does that mean you found out what happened to the missing villagers? I got as far as working out HYDRA had been using them for some sort of forced labour, but never beyond that."

Jemma got up from her stool and busied herself with other things. "I, er, that's actually classified...? You see, it's not good if we tell you, especially as you're a journalist..."

"But it's my story," I countered with annoyance. "I've been trying to work this out for almost a year. I deserve to know the outcome. Did you save those villagers? Were they all alive? Did the local authorities know?"

Jemma seemed to be getting uncomfortable the more questions I asked and I forced myself to sit up, groaning at the ache in my shoulder.

"You can't hide this from me," I told her. "Please, just tell me."

She grimaced. "It's not my place. I'm not in charge–"

"Then tell me who is!" I shouted with frustration, before taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I just– I've put a lot of work into this and it can't just be taken away. I need to know what happened."

She nodded, avoiding my eyes for fear I'd get angry again. "Look, I can talk to my superiors and find out what I can say. For now, you should really be resting."

I leaned back and breathed out slowly, already feeling my fatigue catching up to me.

"Okay," I said quietly, before asking, "You said we were on a plane. Where are we going?"

"That's actually classified as well," she said regretfully, making me sigh. "We're going to our headquarters. But after that, we'll be taking you home or wherever you want us to take you."

At the mention of home, I grew hopeful. It had been so long since I'd been back. I wasn't exactly in the right state to be living by myself, so I was glad that I had made the choice to leave my flat and move in with my parents before leaving for Myanmar. Plus, I had missed them dearly. To be back there was almost unimaginable.

"Can I ring my parents?" I asked hopefully. "Just to let them know I'm okay? And that I'm coming soon?"

Jemma nodded, offering a small smile. "Of course, Y/N. I'll go grab you a phone."

She left the room momentarily and I took that as my chance to get a good look around. It looked like a hospital room you'd find anywhere, except without windows and with card-activated doors that had tiny glass windows showing a narrow hallway. I didn't get to look around for too long as Jemma returned pretty quickly, handing me (what looked like) a normal mobile phone.

"I'll give you a moment of privacy, but please only call your parents," Jemma warned as politely as she could.

I cracked a small smile. "What – are you guys tracking the phone or something?"

She chewed on her lower lip as she looked down, making my smile fade as I realised that's exactly what they were doing. I wasn't surprised, I guess.

"Right, okay, no other calls, got it," I agreed with a nod.

She left me to it as I dialled my mum's mobile number and eventually spoke to both her and my dad. It was emotional to say the least, as I tried not to worry them too much without withholding the truth. They knew when I was lying so it was better to just be honest. Of course, they were happy to have me stay at theirs until I was back on my feet and the call ended with my mum scolding me for not resting as the doctor recommended.

Finally succumbing to the tiredness I was feeling, I fell asleep for God knows how long, but when I woke up, I felt more refreshed. Similar to before, Jemma was in the room, checking some charts. She caught my eye when I woke up and smiled reassuringly.

"Feeling better?" she asked, setting down the chart and rounding the bed.

I nodded. "Yeah, thanks... how long was I asleep for?"

"About six hours," she guessed, waving her hand. "We've landed at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ and our agents are debriefing. Once everything is sorted here, we can take you home to New York and arrange a driver to take you to wherever you want."

"My parents' house," I clarified.

She smiled and nodded. "Right. Your parents' house. How are you feeling?"

I tried to sit up and she helped me as I smiled gratefully in return.

"I'm not gonna lie, being shot hurts like a bitch," I admitted, grimacing as I glanced at my shoulder and arm in a sling.

"First time?"

"And hopefully the last," I retorted, before looking to her. "How long will this take to, y'know, get better?"

"Well, I'll need to keep you here for observation over the next few days," she explained. "When I'm happy with the outcome, I'll send you home and you'll need fortnightly checkups at the hospital. Overall I'd say a month? Maybe more if there's no... er... other issues."

"I know you mean PTSD," I told her bluntly, before frowning. "Doing what I do requires knowledge of that."

"There's going to be support available for you, both here and back home," Jemma reassured, resting a hand on mine and offering a small smile. "You're not alone, Y/N."

I nodded, clearing my throat. "I know... I know. Thanks."

She nodded and moved to the other side of the room to grab something, before wheeling a tray of food over to me.

"Hope you're hungry," she joked. "It's nothing fancy, but it's pretty good."

I smiled and accepted the food. "Means a lot, thanks."

I took a bite out of my sandwich as I remembered something. When I finished chewing, I wiped my face with the napkin before looking to Jemma who was at her desk.

"Er, Jemma," I called, making her look up. "Did you find out what happened to the villagers?"

She pursed her lips and nodded. "I've spoken to my superiors. I know you've been working on this and I'm only permitted to tell you so much."

I waited patiently, not wanting to snap at her like last time.

"The missing villagers were in fact taken by HYDRA, like you predicted," she explained. "They were forced into labour at a facility that was under the guise of a food warehouse."

"What was the labour?" I asked curiously.

She ran a hand through her hair. "I can't tell you much, but I can say that it was a nuclear weapon that could've hurt a lot of people. S.H.I.E.L.D. managed to stop it before they could finish it, which is when we found out that a journalist had been taken. That was when we came for you."

I released a deep breath, definitely not expecting that. At least they had been stopped.

"Did the missing people return to their families? Were they okay?" I asked hesitantly, remembering the many families I spoke to of the missing. I'd grown attached and I don't think I could have taken more bad news.

"Most of them, yes!" she exclaimed hopefully, but I could tell the following news wouldn't be good. "But not all of them were okay. There's some psychological damage and unfortunately physical damage, too. HYDRA did a number on them."

I massaged my head with my right hand, trying not to get upset, but the guilt in the pit of my stomach wasn't helping. I had one job, literally, and I couldn't even do it right.

"Y/N–"

"Do you have a list?" I asked, cutting her off. "A list of who made it?"

"Y/N, I don't think–"

"Please," I pleaded. "I spoke to the families of those who were missing. I got to know them. I need to know who's not getting their loved ones back."

She frowned, but nodded slowly. "I'm sure I can do something."

I sighed and my shoulders sunk with disappointment. Just another day on the job.

—

It had been a few days since being rescued by S.H.I.E.L.D. and I was itching to get home, but Jemma insisted I be observed for at least another day.

Under different circumstances, I would have been eager to explore the quinjet and get more information out of Jemma about her place of work, but I was too exhausted to care. Instead, I revelled in being taken care of and having a break from work.

I was laying in bed, reading a book, when Jemma walked in and caught my attention. I tried not to bother her as she was clearly working on other stuff, but it got pretty boring sitting in a room by yourself all day.

"Hey," I greeted with a smile, lowering my book.

"Hello," she returned as she took a seat at her desk, going on her computer. "You doing alright?"

"As alright as I can be, considering," I said, shrugging with my right shoulder. "Just a bit bored."

"The book not good?" she asked, nodding to my hand.

"I've read it," I admitted. "I just didn't wanna be a bother and ask for another one."

She chuckled. "You could have said something."

"It's okay," I assured her, before leaning back. "So, up to anything fun?"

She gave me a knowing look. "Are you seriously that bored?"

I nodded, pursing my lips, making her laugh. Eventually, she stared at me curiously.

"There's actually something I wanted to ask you," she admitted, crossing her arms and leaning back on her chair. "If you don't mind."

Wanting any distraction from my boredom, I nodded. "Go for it. I'm all ears."

"I've been reading some of your work," she shared. "You're really talented and you've been through your fair share of tough scrapes."

I chuckled. "I guess, yeah. And thank you. What's the question exactly?"

She looked at me like it was obvious. "What made you want to do this as a job? Investigative journalism?"

I played with the corner of the book as I answered thoughtfully, "Well, I guess I've always enjoyed writing and delving deep into stuff. The important stuff, y'know?" I looked down at my hands as I remembered Skye. "There was actually this girl I knew back in school. She was a friend and she, er... she was always wanting to find and expose truths. About herself, the world... I guess she kind of influenced me in a way."

I chewed on the inside of my mouth as I remembered my hallucination. Skye seemed to be coming up a lot more in my life lately, more than I was prepared for.

"I'm guessing she isn't with you anymore," Jemma realised, expression softening. "I'm sorry."

I forced a small smile, looking up and shaking my head reassuringly. "It's okay, it doesn't matter."

Jemma smiled in return, but I could see the pity present in her eyes. "I'm sure whoever she was, she'd be proud of you now. For everything you've done."

"Thank you, Jemma, but I... I'm not too sure about that."

"I am."

I froze at the sound of a familiar voice. Was I hallucinating again? No, that couldn't be. I was getting better. But that sounded so real...

"Proud of you, that is," the voice continued, and I risked looking towards the door where I saw none other than Skye standing there with a nervous smile on her lips.

When I met her gaze, I knew she wasn't a figment of my imagination. Those piercing brown eyes couldn't be fake.

"Hey," she got out, barely a whisper.

I licked my lips and tried to look away, but my heart was suddenly racing in my chest. She was just how I saw her last, but I guess that had been real now.

"I should give you guys a moment," Jemma said, pulling me from my reverie and making me look away.

She walked out, past Skye, leaving us both alone. I was still in shock though, too startled to say anything.

"How are you?" she asked gently, and I still couldn't believe I was hearing her voice after all these years. When I didn't say anything, she continued, "I know this is strange, but–"

"Strange?" I finally found my words, eyebrows raised. "What exactly is strange? The part where I'm sure I'm seeing a ghost right now as I you presumed you were dead after not being able to find you for years after you left, or the part where you've probably been at S.H.I.E.L.D. the whole time and didn't bother to tell me you were okay? Which part is strange exactly?"

She frowned guiltily, eyes falling to her shoes. "When I left–"

"Ran away," I corrected her, bitterness slashing through like a sharp knife, surprising the both of us.

She glanced at me, nodding. "Right... when I ran away, I left you a message."

I almost laughed, a sarcastic smile on my lips. "Don't even get me started on the excuse veiled as a message you left me. The cowardly way out you took because you couldn't face me."

She met my gaze nervously. "I didn't think you'd be this angry after all this time. It happened so long ago."

"Of course I'm angry!" I shouted with frustration, making me grimace at the pain in my shoulder, but I didn't stop. "You left without a single trace of Skye or Mary left behind! You left me with nothing but concern for your wellbeing! I thought you were dead!"

I hadn't realised how I angry I was after all this time, but it made sense. When she first left, I always imagined what I would say to her when I found her again, what our reunion would be like. But when the years went on and I accepted she was truly gone, all of that worry turned into bitterness and resentment. And now, seeing her here... I was furious.

"Y/N, I know you're upset, but–"

"Just get out," I told her with a glare. "I appreciate you saving me and all, but get out."

"Y/N," she pleaded, but I looked away and pressed the button on the side of my bed.

Jemma soon returned and looked between Skye and I with confusion and reluctance.

"Everything okay here?" she asked.

I looked up and met Skye's guilt-filled gaze. "My shoulder hurts."

Skye seemed to get the hint and nodded once more before finally leaving the room. I breathed out a shaky breath, before swallowing the lump in my throat and letting Jemma help me.

I couldn't believe she was back.

[elvish-sky]

A Light From the Shadows Chapter 3- We Always Keep Going, or The One Where Shit Goes Down. Literally.

A.N: Indecision strikes again in the form of me honestly not being able to pick a title for this chapter- so I picked two! Also- I won’t be able to post fics (b/c no access to AO3 or Google Drive) tomorrow or Sunday, which is why this is being posted today. This is the first chapter, and honestly the first thing I've written in so long that I like and am actually proud of. I feel like I might be getting back into the writing groove? Fingers crossed! But, seriously, thank you all for the love and support of this fic. I am so happy you like it <3. Also i’m very excited for your reactions to the canon characters showing up…

Warning: Blood, Angst

A Light From the Shadows Masterlist

Read on Wattpad and AO3

*******

The faint grey light of the moon filtered down into the cell from a small crack in the stone ceiling, barely illuminating Aeri’s face. It cast a shadow across her hands and set the vaguely familiar face of the elf passed out in the cell next to her aglow.

Aeri lay on the cold stone floor, hands and feet still bound. Her fingers flexed as she tried to get some blood flowing to her arms. She’d been in the same position for a very long time- it was so dark that she could not tell exactly how long had passed since Rhugar had dumped the body in the cell next door.

“Where am I?” a weak voice asked.

Aeri started. She turned her head and saw the other elf clinging to the bars separating them, even more, familiar with her eyes open.

She looked so scared, terror illuminating her face just as the moon had moments before.

“Please tell me. Where am I?” She clutched at the bars desperately.

Aeri shifted, trying to move closer. “You’re in Dol Guldur.”

The elf looked horrified. “Really?”

Aeri nodded, and she could see the despair crashing over the elf’s face. She tried to think of a way to distract her.

“Who are you?”

The elf looked away, “I don’t know if I can tell you that.”

Aeri sighed. “Fine. Will it help if I tell you my name first?”

She didn’t respond, so Aeri continued.

“I’m Aerinithil.”

The elf’s spine straightened, eyes widening in shock. “Really?”

Aeri couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I’d know my own name. But how do you know it?”

“You’re Calenglîn’s daughter! The one she had with that human.”

Aeri grew wary. “How do you know my mother?”

The elf had a faint smile on her face, reminiscing. “We were best friends, inseparable until she left with Eddard.”

And then Aeri realized where she’d seen her before.

“...Celebrían?”

The elf nodded. And then passed out.

Aeri scrambled over to her, chains clanking against the rock-solid floor as she crashed into the bars separating them.

“Celebrían!!! Celebrían! Please wake up, please, please, please…”

Aeri trailed off. She’d been shaking Celebrían through the bars and rolled the elf over to see blood spilling through her dress, pooling on the floor underneath her. Aeri parted the fabric at the source, on the left side of Celebrían’s abdomen, and saw a stab wound, bleeding and so clearly infected Aeri was sure the blade that had done it had been poisoned.

“Oh no, no no no no no,” Aeri muttered, scrambling for something to stop the bleeding. She looked down at herself, the ragged hem of her tunic. Quickly, she tore it off and tried to wrap it around Celebrían through the bars of the cell. She succeeded, getting the fabric over Celebrían’s wound and tied it, contorting her arms through the bars.

Aeri heard padding footsteps, the ones that she now recognized as belonging to Rhugar, and panicked. Celebrían was passed out, possibly dying, because of a clearly poisoned stab wound in her side, and Aeri was sure that Rhugar would only make it worse. She had to do something. And she had to do it now.

Aeri knew that the one thing that could help her now was the thing she was terrified to do- at some point when she was bleeding, broken on the floor, something had seeped into her. A shadow. She’d spent the time in this cell learning its language, and now she called them all, whispering, muttering to the very things that had once sought to destroy her.

And they came.

Darkness spread across the cell as Aeri’s hands moved, directing the shadows to cover each wall and crack and crevice until there was no light at all. Aeri realized that she could sense shapes in the darkness- she could feel Celebrían’s hair like it was brushing against her hand instead of attached to the elf’s head a foot away. She was aware of everything happening in the pool of shadow she had created that spanned the two cells.

She sent shadows worming into the manacles on her ankles and wrists, worming their way into the very heart of the metal, and then the darkness expanded, corrupting the metal until it collapsed off of her wrists. She did the same to those shackling Celebrían, heard the clink of the broken shackles on the floor once the shadows had done their work, and called them back to her.

Aeri heard Rhugar drawing closer and closer to the cell, and drew back the shadows so that there was a small circle of light around her and Celebrían, but darkness still separated them from the doorways to both cells.

Rhugar opened the cell door and saw nothing but darkness. The entire cell was just pitch-black- he’d been able to at least see his hand in front of his face when he’d been in here before. But this was different. There wasn’t a little light that made it easier to bear- this was the total absence of light.

“Aerinithil…” Rhugar entered the cell, unsheathing his sword as he moved, trying to find his niece.

Aeri crouched, waiting in the pool of light she’d left for herself and Celebrían. She could feel where Rhugar was in the cell and felt it as he drew closer and closer. Just as she sensed him about to emerge from the dark, she put her hands behind her back.

Rhugar stepped forward, emerging into the light. He threw up a hand to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness.

Aeri watched him, waiting for him to look down and notice him. He blinked, trying to adjust to the light and when he looked at her he grinned.

“Ah. There you are,” he drew closer, “but what’s going on with our friend over there?” He gestured to Celebrían.

Aeri waited as Rhugar padded over to the bars separating them from the elf. Her hands twitched behind her back, flexing.

“Where are her chains, Aerinithil?” His voice had a dangerous edge.

Rhugar turned to look at his niece once more, and Aeri took a deep breath.

She raised her hands, shrugging. “I don’t know.”

It took him a second to notice the lack of manacles on her as well, but when he did, the expression on his face was almost comical. Until it became twisted, wrong, his face echoing the evil in his eyes.

“What. Did. You. Do?”

Aeri raised her unshackled hands. “I learned.”

She brought them together and the darkness rushed in around them, shadows racing forward at her call to bind Rhugar’s wrists and ankles the way he’d bound hers, forcing him down until he was kneeling at her feet.

“Farewell, Uncle,” she told him, and then punched him in the face. Rhugar collapsed onto the floor, unconscious, and Aeri limped past him.

She left her cell and approached the still-locked door of the one next to it. Twisting her hand, she called a shadow and directed into the metal of the lock, corrupting it until it fell apart. She shoved the door open, wincing at the shriek of metal against stone, and saw Celebrían laying on the floor. Aeri rushed over to the elf, kneeling beside her and trying to shake her awake, careful not to touch her wound.

“Celebrían, please, wake up, please wake up.”

Celebrían’s eyes opened. “Aerinithil?”

Aeri nodded, blinking back tears of relief. “Yes, yes, it’s me. Can you stand? We have to go!”

Celebrían winced. “I do not know if I have the strength.”

“You have to.”

Aeri heaved Celebrían to her feet, apologizing as the elf cried out in pain. She slung Celebrían’s arm over her shoulders, supporting her, and they walked out the door together, both limping, Celebrían hanging on to Aeri like her life depended on it.

They made their way down the hall slowly, cautious of any enemies waiting around the corner.

“Do you know the way out?”

Celebrían shook her head.

Aeri sighed, “Me neither. Guess we’ll find out,” and they limped on.

A ways down the hall, an orc rounded the corner in front of them, stopping short at the sight.

“How did you get out of your cells?”

Aeri shrugged Celebrían’s arm off her shoulder, leaving the elf leaning against the wall. She sprang forward and knocked the orc unconscious, much like she’d done to her uncle only a while earlier, and then grabbed Celebrían once more.

They hobbled through the halls together, every time they saw an enemy Aeri would knock it unconscious. Until there were too many.

A horde of orcs was chasing them as they limped as fast as they could through the cold stone hallways, bare feet hurting on the rough floor.

Aeri released Celebrían once again and turned to face them all as they rushed towards her.

She raised her arms, flexing her hands and twisting her fingers

Celebrían looked up at Aeri. “What are you doing?”

“Bringing it all down.”

Elladan sat astride his horse, racing towards the fortress of Dol Guldur alongside his brother. They’d been tracking the orcs that had kidnapped their mother for weeks and were finally closing in.

“Brother!” came a shout from next to him, “Look!”

Elladan looked. The fortress was starting to shake, a rumble sounding through the air. He stopped his horse.

“Should we keep going?”

“Our mother is in there,” Elrohir told him, “We always keep going.”

Elladan spurred his horse after his brother and kept going.

Several minutes later, the twins stopped short in horror. A cloud of darkness was rising from the fortress, filling the sky and casting shadows on the surrounding land. It billowed up and up in waves, blanketing the forest as it spread.

“What do we do?” Elrohir asked.

Elladan held up a hand, “What is that?” and peered into the darkness.

A person, a young woman, was racing towards them at the front of the darkness, another woman cradled in her arms.

Aeri sprinted at the front of the shadows she had summoned, the darkness following at her heels as she ran. Celebrían was cradled in her arms, muttering and groaning as Aeri moved, trying her hardest not to jolt her friend.

She saw two figures astride horses waiting on the path ahead, and slowed for a moment. She could tell they were elves, but after Rhugar’s betrayal, she wasn’t sure who she could trust. And then she drew closer and saw the same features of the elf in her arms in their faces. Aeri knew that Celebrían had twin sons, and these must be them. She started sprinting again.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure how she was managing to carry her friend, as well as keep up the darkness that was currently tearing the fortress apart. She thought it might be adrenaline. But she was thankful for the extra energy as she heard the thunderous noises of the fortress crumbling behind her.

Aeri approached the twins, slowing as she reached them.

Elrohir watched this mysterious woman approach them. She had ears like an elf’s but there was something about her that assured him that she wasn’t, or at least not entirely so. He could see the elf she had cradled in his arms, see that it was-

“Emmë?” Elladan whispered.

Elrohir slid off his horse, walking towards the girl that held their mother.

“Who are you?” He whispered as he got closer.

Through the dust and grime covering her face, he saw a faint smile as she spoke. “A friend.”

Elladan walked up behind his brother. “Thank you for bringing her.”

The girl nodded. “Of course. She has a poisoned wound, so get her to a healer soon.’

“Thank you again,” said Elrohir.

She nodded. “Take care of her,” said the not-quite-an-elf-that-had-pointy-ears, and then she strode into the forest, alone.

Later, Aeri sat on a branch high in an old oak, looking out over the forest. Dol Guldur still dominated the landscape, but it looked much different. Instead of the commanding fortress it had been that morning, it was a crumbling pile of rubble. She couldn’t believe that she had done that.

Holding up her hand, she let a shadow wind around it, wrapping around her right-hand thumb like a ring, shaking. This new power, controlling darkness, was terrifying. She’d brought down a fortress with it in a matter of minutes- who knew what else she’d do? But something inside her called for more- it wanted to be set free, shown to the world in an even greater display than what she’d just done.

Rhugar hauled himself up onto the wall, wincing. He’d been knocked unconscious by that awful niece of his, and just as he’d come to the ceiling had crashed down around him. Small scrapes and bruises covered every part of his body. His head was throbbing, and he reached up to wipe at his face. His hand came away red with blood, and as the pain grew he realized he had a large cut on his face. He grimaced as he stood, surveying the land around him. He was at the top of the ruins now, having spent a long time hauling himself up, and could see for miles. He could also clearly see that Dol Guldur, his base, was completely destroyed. His master would not be pleased, but that would not matter. Dol Guldur could be used whether ruined or not.

Rhugar took a deep breath and began the descent.

Aeri didn’t know whether Rhugar had survived. As much as she wanted him to be gone, some part of her still thought of him as family, remembered the uncle that he once was. But she knew he wasn’t, that he hadn’t been that person for a long time. Something had reached into the inner depths of his soul and turned them rotten.

She climbed down the tree and limped off into the woods, in the direction of the home that, after the deaths of her parents, only she knew about. The safehouse hidden in the far north, above even Erebor, that she hadn’t been to for years. She began planning- how she’d get supplies to withstand the long journey north, acquiring a horse, and how to wipe out the blight known as the servants and master of Mordor off Middle-Earth, once and for all.

Aeri had no clue why the shadows had chosen her, but she knew she’d try to do better with them than Rhugar had done with the darkness inside himself.

*******

A.N: WHAT DO YOU THINK?!?! I’m honestly so excited to hear your thoughts on this!! What do you think of the canon characters appearing? I loved getting to include Celebrían, even if I did have to make a minor tweak to canon to include her (but it was very minor). and what do you think of Aeri’s powers?

Everything tag: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit @guardianofrivendell @hey-its-nonny

ALFTS tag: @lothloriien @laurfilijames @cassiabaggins @claraofthepen @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse

[hpdabbles]

Hello, I just found your blog and wanted to let you know that I absolutely adore your writing! Honestly, I've spent the past few hours just scrolling and reading and honestly it was time well spent!!

I absolutely adored your fae!Harry story (I think it was called 'what's in a name') and the time travel one where Harry takes after Lily, if you were thinking of writing a part 2 for either I'd absolutely read them! 😊💞

(But also absolutely no pressure or anything like that, you write what makes you happy! 💗)

Hello! Thank you so much for your sweet words! I’m really glad you like those two they are some of my favorites. Sure I’ll write ya a part 2! This is for the time travel one where Harry takes after his mom more, I’m dubbing it “From Your Mother’s Side”. Enjoy!

James kept a closer eye on Harry as they “lead” him back to the Gryffindor’s tower after the welcoming feast. He found it rather interesting that this pretty redhead seems to know his way around the castle, and entered the Gryffindor common room like it was second nature.

He didn’t once falter in his steps, sure where he was and where he was going all the way up to the fifth year dorm. It was rather fascinating for someone who claimed to never been to Hogwarts. 

Sirius and Remus were glad to show him about anyway but he was sure the two picked up on the same thing after allowing Harry to go and unpack not once leading the boy. The Mauraders are six years now and unfortunately for his two mates that means Harry will not be rooming with them. 

Harry will have two roommates- the year following the marauders was a sad year for the house of Gryffindor- who are eager to take over the tour. 

As a group they all relocated in their dorm, ignoring their other roommate Simon Minsky who did his best to stay as far away from their pranks as he could and piled on James’ bed. Peter charmed the curtains shut, Remus fluffed up the pillows to lean on, Sirius stretched out and took more space than he needed to and James provided the sweets.  

Once James was sure everyone had either a sugar quill, chocolate frog, or Carmel caldron  he spoke “So the new transfer....anyone thinks he’s a little off?”

“Very off,” Peter said around his quill. 

“If by off you mean he looks like every wet dream come to life then yes” Sirius sighs fanning himself. “I’ll love to take that boy on my motorbike.”

“Sirius please your embarrassing yourself”  Remus cut in without any real bite so James didn’t have to yell at him for it. “Yes he is pretty but even you know that something about the way he walks and talks is strange. Moon after him once we figure out-”

“Funny you should say moon, Moony” Sirius wags his eyebrows which prompted Remus to pick up a pillow and hit him in the face with. The dark hair boy laughs as he nearly falls off the bed but his strong grip on James keeps him right on the edge.

“Getting back to the point,” Peter says rolling his eyes which makes James crack a smile. “I don’t think he’s up to anything dangerous, the bloke doesn’t look like he could hurt a fly. If anything he looks rather delicate.”

“So does my Lilypad” James counters. “And we all know Lily  Evans could kill us and then go paint her nails with our blood.”

“Looks can be deceiving. Take my cousin Bellatrix, for example, she seems like a proper lady to the public but I’m telling she suffers the worst case of Black Madness the likes which haven’t been seen in the last few generations” Sirius adds, shifting his body closer to the others. “He also didn’t seem like the cowering type. Humble and more reserve yeah, but not cowering.”  

James nodded his head at that.  “I think he is hiding something. Did anyone notice just...how much he seemed to recognize us? Or the way he reacted to being introduced to Longbottom?”

The seventh-year perfect stopped them earlier when they first entered the common room to greet and welcome Harry but the fifth year hadn’t reacted much to him until he learned Longbottom’s name. 

For a moment Harry looked like he choked on his spit in shock and James bet his left shoe it wasn’t because Frank Longbottom was unfairly naturally built like a brick house.

“Maybe we can test him,” Remus suggests, making the others turn to their strategist with interest as the werewolf was the one usually behind the most successful pranks. The half-blood smiles at them innocently.  “What if we give him a false sense of security with us, slowly condition him into revealing what he is hiding? We could also keep an eye on him with the map and see where he goes.”

“Why would we need to do that?”

“Because he’s sneaking out of his room,” Remus says pointing down at the Maurder’s map where Harry Hedwing’s foots steps were in fact moving away from the tower. The other blink surprise the werewolf activated the map so quickly without them the wiser but lean in to see where Harry is going.

They watch him make a full circle around the castle somehow barely dodging the patrolling perfectly until he seems to tried and goes towards the headmasters’ office. There he wanders around the room, pacing a few times stopping every few steps and James thinks he may be talking to the portraits if he is mentally recalling the room correctly.

Bizarrely, Harry then makes his way to the ground floor girl's bathroom the one Moaning Myrtle haunts and simply, disappears.

“What? Where did he go!?” Sirius gasps jumping up as the others also jerk in surprise. This never happen before, their map never lied and it always knew where anyone in Hogwarts was. No one had just disappeared from the parchment. 

“M-maybe he did apparition?” Peter suggests. 

“On Hogwarts ground?” Remus counters, climbing to his feet. “The wards wouldn’t allow it.”

“Well what do you think happened?” Sirius snaps also getting up. The werewolf gives him a sour look but they all know the Black tends to snap at anyone close by when nervous so he lets it go after throwing his hands in the air.

“Did..did he die?” James whispers because it’s the only explanation he can think of.

The other three twist to stare at him in horror, none of them liking the suggestion but none of them able to deny the high positivity. Peter hugs himself, Sirius goes pasty white and Remus’ already tense face tightens even more. They sit around not know what to say or do. Eventually, after who knows how long, James takes the initiative. 

“We have to go get his body.” He holds up his hand to stop whatever the others are going to say while biting his lip.  “Look, we can’t send a professor ahead of us without basically admitting we know where his body even though we didn’t see it and not make us look like murders. We have to give up the map to prove we didn’t do him in and you all know most of the charms in that parchment are illegal. We can’t have anyone from the government get a close eye on us, not with Moony. Leaving the bloke there until some unlucky girl finds the corpse is not right either. We have to go.”

Peter starts to shakes and Remus has to push his head between his knees to get his breathing back to normal. After much debate, it’s decided that James and Sirius would go to the bathroom to set up a prank and would “stumble” across the body. 

Then they would come racing back to wake Remus so the perfect could alert the professors. Peter had been fed a sleeping draught since he couldn’t handle lying about such a thing and he needed an alibi should the professors come question him.

The two set out with paint balloons and heavy hearts, the map tucked safely in Sirius' pocket while they moved at a steady pace underneath the invisibility cloak. As they walked not one dared to say a thing, even though they desperately wish the silence was gone. 

The darkness of the castle, with it’s sleeping portraits made the trip that much more eerie. 

James half wanted to tell Sirius to go back because he knew his best friend wasn’t really in love with Harry Hedwig but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel something for the teenager they met earlier that night.  Another selfish scared part of him didn’t want to be alone open the bathroom door. 

James hated that part of himself.

They stopped in front of the door, removing the cloak to carefully roll up, and stood there for a few minutes. As if through, deep down they didn’t want to push open the wood and come face to face with the reality that waited for them. 

Eventually, James sigh stepping forward and reaches for the knob-

Only to jerk back when the door moves on its own, Harry Hedwig’s startled green eyes boring into his, very much alive and very much covered in some kind of dark liquid, carrying something wrapped in his school robes. 

“Oh! You surprised me!” The boy says, his red hair falling around in a wind blow mess. He looks like he just came out of a losing side of a fight, face bruised and gashes on his knees where the trousers have been ripped.

“What brings you out this late at night?” Harry asks casually acting like this was a common everyday encounter and not one of the strangest nights of James’ life. 

“What brings us-what about you! What are you doing? Why are you covered in-is that blood!?” Sirius blurts and true enough the dark liquid James had noticed is in fact blood. He feels sick. 

“I had stuff to do,” Harry says shrugging not looking like the delicate flower that he did at his sorting “That stuff put up a fight.” 

“What?”

Harry studies them closely and James feels like he should take out his wand in order to defend himself but then he remembers he left it at the tower. He always had the bad habit of forgetting his wand, his mother once warn him it could one day kill him but James never thought she would be right. 

Hopefully, Sirius wasn’t as forgetful because, with the map on them, their friends would never know what happen to the two if they do not make it out of this alive.

“Any of you good at skinning a snake?” Harry jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “You have a nasty pest in your pipes.”

James takes a chance to look over his shoulder and faints when he sees the giant basilisk head that is laying in a pool of blood with its body half leaning out of a giant hole leading from the sinks. 

A second thump is heard later as Sirius like the loyal friend he is follows suit. 

The next morning everyone is talking about Harry Hedwig not only finding the Chamber of Secrets, slaying the Slytherin monster with the help of the Gryffindor Sword but also being strong enough to carry both his new housemates to the school healer. 

He’s only been on Hogwart grounds for a grand total of twelve hours before everyone knows how utterly insane the transfer student really is, pretty or not.