#and my drafts are unreliable when it comes to saving things

[spoopy-fish-writes]

Shingen with an angel MC who’s beautiful in an incredibly unsettling way. Who he can’t compare to the moon because they’re more like the sharp glare of the sun. Who he can’t compare to a spirit because they’re far too real, because they dont fade in and out of existence, they unintentionally make themselves the focal point of your line of sight. Who is beautiful in the way that a gold decorative dagger is beautiful. Who is blinding to look at, bold in a way that would usually indicate a kind of wealth rather than power but makes you just cautious enough in handling her because you can’t be sure if the blade is sharp enough to kill. Who is soft in their movements in a way that puts you on edge, like they aren’t supposed to be acting so human in the same way a gold dagger is too soft to act as a weapon but is angular and sharp enough that you don’t want to take any risks

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Just gonna talk about my current WIP

... and life. Because this is a nice cozy place where I can do that and only one of you knows me IRL.

So, in July, I was laid off. Well, my team was laid off. One of the many casualties in the "who needs DEI" wave. I can't even be particularly mad about it because that job was horrible. I dreaded work every day and I'm pretty sure that had I stayed, my health would have suffered more than it already had.

Then came the burnout. That shit hit me like a freight train. I've spent the majority of the last 2.5 months trying to give myself space to rest as much as possible (while also job hunting because I'm not exactly in a position that I can just BE unemployed). And y'all, rest is hard. Like really hard. But we're working on it.

While I 100% view this as a time I can and must rest, it also feels like an opportunity to actually focus on writing.

Hell, if I'm being honest, it feels like the universe went, "You said you would do this if you only had time to dedicate to it. Here you go." Now I've just gotta do the thing. Which... is also hard.

I've had several WIPs bubbling away for years now. Ones I've shared with folks, ones people ask me about. But the one I'm focusing on right now I haven't shared with anyone.

It's too personal, but not in a way that folks would assume. It's not autobiographical (though it is set just outside of Boston, where I'm now calling home) or anything of that sort. It's simply that I'm so in love with the two main characters I'm nervous to say anything about the story to folks close to me until it's finished.

But no one is likely to see this so I'm gonna share a bit here:

Toni. Bless Toni. She's a little me and probably a little you too. The definition of someone running toward something even though far too many people think she's running away. She is a woman who refuses to accept good enough and deals with the repercussions of that--especially as a fat woman (a through line in most of my femme MCs). In her case, she chose to end a relationship with a man most people considered a catch--ya know a catch who thought he could convince her to have a baby she said she didn't want--and move across the country rather than allow herself to stay in a situation that made her miserable. Now, alone--save for her best friend a few towns over--she's rebuilding her life and unpacking the baggage that says she's unreasonable and unreliable for choosing her happiness.

And y'all... Cillian. Lord. He's a local boy--complete with that Bahston accent--and built like a tank. Everyone around him can see how golden his heart is, not because he wears it on his sleeve but because he has an aura of goodness that is almost impossible to miss. Were you to tell him that, he'd tell you you're full of shit. The thing about Cillian is that he's the kind of good that comes from going through hell. In his case, hell was literal war. Now, 10 years out of the military and 8 sober, he's still reconciling with parts of himself he'd rather bury. Think a little Bucky Barnes with a dash of Frank Castle and then the rest, well the rest is just Cillian: The boy who should have been a musician, not a soldier. The man who runs his family's bar and escapes to his property in New Hampshire when the world is too much. The 6'2" 275lb brick of muscle that collects floral robes and buys expensive sheets and falls so in love with a gorgeous plus size powerhouse of a woman that it undoes him a little.

I love them. I love how they're going to open up with one another, to allow the other to see the parts of them that are still bleeding and know that it will be ok.

(They also fuck like rockstars so there's that.)

I'm still working on the first draft, but I think I can have it done in the next couple of weeks. From there, revisions and then MAYBE eyes that aren't mine.

Hopefully, someone other than me cares about their slow conversations, the softness of their fall, the low stakes but high emotion of it all.

-sigh-

Anyway. That's been my world of late. Thanks for being the void tumblr.

Love ya.

[sunpopz]

'til death do us part

pairing: jaehyun x afab!reader word count: 4.8k contains: phone sex, stoner!jaehyun, toxic relationship, like he's genuinely manipulative im srs this is kinda dark (lots of possessiveness + obsessive behavior), smut, mutual masturbation, pillow humping, some fluff, angst, unreliable narrator, short descriptions of exhibitionism, nonsexual dominance summary: your full-blown attachment to jaehyun makes itself known when he has to leave for a week, and you pretty much lose your mind. you call it love, but maybe that's only because you don't have another word for it. a/n: this took me forever to finish and it's only 4.8k words *~* pls leave me feedback or let me know if i should add/remove any warnings!

everything happened so fast.

it all started at a get-together your friend jennie hosted one weekend; introducing you to people she was closer with to make you feel more comfortable in a foreign city. you weren’t expecting the large crowd at her beach house, though it made sense that someone with a modeling career had so many connections. having met her through the most random interaction (you stupidly left your purse in a grocery basket and she chased you down in the parking lot, then you talked for like twenty minutes about the city because you asked for directions to the best furniture store), you had no idea that she was such a big deal with so much importance tied to her name. the two of you had exchanged numbers and she helped you unpack one day, inviting you to her “chill version of a party” (her words) as she handed you boxes.

the house itself was beautifully decorated and spacious. with the beach only a couple hundred meters away, the ocean air drafted in through open doors and windows, giving the atmosphere a sense of playfulness. it had honestly been a great time, you having stayed from start to finish thanks to everyone’s welcoming energy. people put in the effort to remember your name and include you in conversations, told you stories, offered you drinks, even invited you to other events.

after all the food, drinks, and board games were packed up and almost everyone left, it was just you, jennie, and a few other people scattered in the master bedroom upstairs. the air from the window was a bit breezy by then and jennie lied on her back with her head hanging off the end of one of the two beds, drunk. she was talking upside down, slurred, to a trio of girls sitting on the floor, who you’d learned weren’t from here either; old friends who’d stopped at her house to spend the night while traveling.

on the other bed were you and a guy you’d learned was named jaehyun, someone you met early on in the party but didn’t interact with directly up until now. he was sitting against the headboard, comfy with his hoodie over his head and his hands in his pockets. you sat facing him with crossed legs next to his outstretched ones, playing with your fingers.

both of you were high, bong forgotten about on the bedside table as you talked endlessly about nothing important. after stealing glances at each other all day, sitting in a bed with him in the now quiet (save for the low music still coming from the bluetooth speaker) house reminded you of your late teen years where you’d hang out with a boy you like without your parents knowledge.

“mm.. i think i’ll just let you guess,” jaehyun said, amusement clear in his voice. “whenever i tell a girl my sign she gets all weird about it.”

“so you’re a scorpio.” you deadpanned. the two of you had been jumping from random topic to random topic and eventually landed on the inevitable zodiac sign conversation, jaehyun playfully rolling his eyes the second you asked his.

he shook his head slowly. “nah.”

“uhm. pisces?”

“nope.”

you gave him a slow once over, racking your brain for all the star sign related things you’d read online. they say aries’ have strong eyebrows right? his weren’t very strong.. not that you knew what that even meant. he had dimples. do dimples mean anything? you thought anyone could have dimples. you were studying the shape of his lips for a little too long when the corner of his mouth lifted up.

“you give up?”

you were honestly ready to move on to something else, your fuzzy brain refusing to think deeply about anything of depth right now. all you’d really been paying attention to the past hour was how attractive jaehyun was, his face stopping your train of thought like this multiple times already. you just shrugged and nodded.

he took a long look at your facial features before saying anything. “aquarius.”

your eyebrows raised. “that makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“oh, here we go,” his eyeroll was playful, but it still made you feel like you had to be defensive. not because you were being truthful, but because this conversation felt structured from the start. just words and sentences to fill time until the tension got the best of you.

“i’m serious! that would’ve been my next guess,” your hands raised a bit along with the pitch of your voice to convince him. he just laughed and shook his head.

you couldn’t remember what it was like to get to know someone you had a crush on. your past relationships all went by in a blur; one damaged person meeting another damaged person and fighting more for the idea of love than love itself, ultimately causing more problems than solutions. you pushed it all away.

a moment of comfortable silence passed where you two just existed in each other’s very welcome presence, jaehyun letting his head fall back on the headboard lightly with his eyes closed. you stared at the column of his neck, then started to notice the ache in your knees from sitting cross legged for so long. you decided to stretch your legs out parallel to him, hands planted behind you to hold yourself up. you were both admittedly pretty tired from the day’s events, the weed not really helping with that.

jaehyun opened his eyes and peered down to where your legs lied next to his, then trailed his eyes slowly up your body, stopping at your face. you quirked an eyebrow.

he stared for a moment before speaking. “you don’t wanna come up here?”

your heart skipped. ‘up here’ like up next to him? you’d caught on quickly that jaehyun was a man of few words, nearly soft-spoken, but he knew how to make the words count. nuance and intent was always transparent in what he was saying, and in this case the look on his face and tone of his voice was just flirtatious.

you titled your head. “is that normally how you ask for things you want, jaehyun?”

he smiled, quick, big and sheepish, obviously not expecting that response. the energy the two of you shared had gone from curious to flirty throughout the entire time you’d sat here talking, but this was the first time he vocally made it known he wanted to be closer to you. the break in tension was coming closer.

“alright, then. can you please come sit next to me?” he asked with a mock pout. you rolled your eyes.

“only because you asked so nicely.”

when you settled yourself beside him, he let his arm wrap around your shoulder and suddenly you felt surrounded by him. his warmth, his smell.. that bubbling feeling in your gut intensified and you were reminded how much you missed this kind of intimacy.

out of impulse (that you wouldn’t have acted on if it weren’t for your current state of mind), you snuggled up to his side as close as possible, letting yourself melt into him. jaehyun watched you shift onto your side and place your hand on his chest with a knowing smile on his face, finding your need to be closer adorable. you really wanted to let your leg rest on top of his, but you felt it was too intimate and didn’t want to scare him away.

of course, though, he noticed the way your knee subtly rubbed against the side of his leg and took it upon himself to grab your thigh and move it over his own. now with his body almost between yours, you felt your face go hot and tried to hide a smile with a bite of your lip. jaehyun chuckled.

“aw, don’t get all shy on me now,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes again, pretending the rumble of his voice from this close didn’t affect you. something about jaehyun was entrancing; the conversation you guys just had being nothing but the typical stupid flirty small talk, zero substance, yet it was enough to leave you breathless in his presence.

you started running your finger along his chest where your hand lied, just to do something, then felt the very subtle dips of his abs through the fabric of his hoodie. you weren’t sure if your mind was playing tricks on you, so you ended up rubbing your whole palm on him with more pressure to confirm. “woah, you’re ripped.”

he laughed at your observation, airily. you felt the vibration on your hand and your heartbeat quickened. the air was suddenly hot and the tension between you two was thick, your mind now forced to stay focused on the hot man next to you. your finger continued to trail along his abdomen while his hand rubbed your thigh.

“that feels nice,” jaehyun praised. it was hushed, like he only wanted you to hear, and you felt yourself go from wet to soaking.

feeling ecouraged, you slowly let your finger run a little lower to his stomach. at this point, you were just being indulgent with the permission he gave you to feel him up and be in his space, mind ran by nothing but lust. never had you ever done something like this with someone the day you met them, but jaehyun was just irresistible.

he tensed under you as your finger traveled lower on his stomach. you stopped and looked up at him with glazed eyes, feeling brave. he looked zoned out when you spoke. “i hear aquarius’ are good in bed.”

he bit his lip, wetting it and letting it go. “really?”

“no. i actually don’t know shit about astrology.”

he kissed you then, deep and hard, his hand gripping your thigh. you took a second to reciprocate due to the shock of it all, but once you did it wasn’t like any kiss you’d experienced before.

your ex’s and flings kissed you like they had to, like they were finishing a routine, or like they were thinking too hard about it. jaehyun kissed you like he needed to, like he had something to prove, equally giving and taking. as much as you hated to admit it at the time, you knew the moment he kissed you that this- he was something you needed in your life regularly.

your hands reached for his hair and pulled him closer, deeper, and he moved himself to hover over you. his hand found your boob over your shirt, rushed like he’d been thinking about grabbing it already. your head was spinning at the feeling of his soft yet firm body above yours, the heat between the two of you rising rapidly and desperately. he involved his tongue and you moaned, softly, at the smooth slide of it against your own.

“okayy! time for you two to get a room,” jennie interrupted from the other bed, clapping once with her outburst and startling you both away from each other’s faces. “there’s plenty of them, choose any. it was cute at first but it’s getting gross now.”

that night he’d fucked you good and deep in the guest room downstairs, hand over your mouth to keep from disturbing the other people in the house. he kept telling you how hot you were as if it were a secret he needed to get off his chest, then made you cum twice before he came himself (though it was only seconds after you; the mix of the sporadic clenching around him and your whining was too overwhelming). and then he ate you after. you felt like you were in heaven.

the two of you had become inseparable after that. it started out as the average friends with benefits relationship until it became unbearable to pretend not to have feelings for each other. eventually you announced you were dating, to which your friends were already aware of.

most of your time was spent together, one of you tagging along whenever the other went out, sometimes even for things like trips to the bank or grocery shopping. your lives revolved around each other. your friends thought it was almost fake; the same question of “can jaehyun come?” or “you mind if i bring y/n?” whenever either of you were invited somewhere seemed like a cinematic level of infatuation.

it was also cute, though, how you just clicked. if someone told you your soulmate was gonna be a stoner you met through a party at your supermodel friend’s beach house, who also argued with you about whether or not mermaids were real, you would’ve laughed in their face. but the speed of which you fell for each other took you by surprise. jaehyun could say the same, having never felt that insistent curiosity and endearment towards someone he just hooked up with before, let alone for that long.

your favorite thing about the relationship, though, was the sex. it was always passionate and eventful, the two of you getting off on each other’s pleasure. the average person would expect such a thing from such a good-looking couple, and maybe the knowledge of that added to the confidence in bed, or maybe it was jaehyun’s nonstop praise, because you’d tried things with him that you would’ve never considered doing before you met him. he had you bent over random surfaces, using toys you’d never seen before, and sometimes roleplaying in sexy costumes from amazon. in an alternate world you’ve been a cop who handcuffed and fucked him, a cat girl who got handcuffed and fucked, an evil witch who slipped a love potion in his drink… it got pretty creative sometimes. you loved every second of it.

one of your friends asked you what falling in love felt like, her eyes staring dreamily at a framed picture of you and jaehyun in your livingroom. she said people always explained it as something slow, conscious, and irresistible. you’d argue that it feels more like randomly slamming your face into concrete.

truthfully, you felt like you were doing something wrong from the moment it started. you could admit jaehyun held the ropes from the beginning, subconsciously teaching you vague clingy and possessive behavior in the small things he’d say. his words felt calculated, short, implying that he’d be the most important thing in your life if you really loved him. but he never really said that. you just knew, because that’s what you were to him. his religion, his muse.

while at times, it felt like a pile of mud with a shiny bow on top, you were working out just fine. more good than bad, the two of you, in your own little world, disgustingly in love.

so when jaehyun had to leave the city for an event with his family, you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

it was his cousin’s wedding, so it was important, but you couldn’t stop the longing for him during the week he was gone. only a week, he kept reminding you, but after so much time with him consistently attached to your hip, it felt like a month.

jaehyun was staying at a rented mansion with the rest of his large family, so he had his own room in it’s own area. the two of you facetimed daily, once for the entire day because he had the time to, him lying in bed watching you do your daily tasks around the house while you talked your ass off about everything he was missing back home. he had a puppy with him then, his relatives dog, who he’d brought in the room specifically to see your reaction (and wasn’t disappointed - you squealed and baby talked to her the entire time).

you were satisfied when you went to bed that night, having taken a long hot shower and lit candles a while after you hung up to keep your energy light and happy. you were snuggled in your blankets with the lights off, scrolling through social media and ready to fall asleep when your phone rang.

you smiled to yourself upon seeing the ‘JAEEE <33’ on your screen, heartwarming when putting him on speaker and setting your phone on the bed.

“you miss me already?”

“you’re sexy as fuck, you know that?”

you froze, not at all expecting his voice to have an edge to it, let alone the words he spoke. the compliment sunk in as it dawned on you that he was horny, his voice only ever sounding like that when he wanted you. you shifted your whole body to face your phone and snuggled into yourself closer, fully engaging in what he had to say. “well, i do now.”

he laughed that kind of laugh he does when he’s also shaking his head, almost condescending, but not serious. your heart ached; you missed seeing it in person. “you already knew. i tell you all the time.”

“then why ask a question you already know the answer to?,” your head tilted, as if he could see you, feeling playful. challenging. “you gonna ask me if i love you next?”

“do you?”

“you just wanna hear me say it.”

he scoffed. you heard movement on the other side, fabric against fabric, and assumed he was moving around in his bed. you couldn’t really understand why he called you again at this time, your calls usually happening during the day, but it didn’t bother you. you stopped thinking about it the moment he started talking, actually.

“you wanna know what i’m thinking about?,” he asked after the movement stopped, and you hummed a yes. “when we first met, you said something to me. do you remember what it was?”

“can you stop asking questions and just tell me what you’re gonna say?”

he sighed in faux disappointment. moments like this were one of the reasons you fell for jaehyun, him adding flavor to your relationship through surprises and spontaneity, placing pretty bandaids over wounds. he wanted you to play along with whatever game this was, as usual, but you were more curious about where he was going with it.

a moment passed before he continued. “you said something like, ‘is that how you ask for things jaehyun?’. it was hot. just couldn’t get over how good it sounds when you say my name.”

oh, okay. so he was really horny. you grew hot at the words he was saying, rubbing your legs together subconsciously, fidgeting. you wanted to say something snarky back, maybe make a comment about the way he mocked your voice, but he knew how to render you speechless too well. all you could do was let out a whiney “jae…”

“fuck, yeah. like that.”

it occurred to you that he was definitely jerking off.

you heard a very faint flapping noise come through, it speeding up with his words, and felt embarrassed that you didn’t notice sooner. the timing, his voice, how he asked questions instead of telling you things straight forward. it was as if he couldn’t think straight and needed help filling in his sentences.

some silence passed. you reached your hand down your pajama shorts and rubbed at your clit through your underwear, staring at the screen. this wasn’t how you expected this call to go at all.. but why wouldn’t it have? it was late and 5 days into the dreadfully long week. if he hadn’t called you with his hand on his dick, you probably would’ve initiated it yourself.

“keep talking.”

jaehyun huffed a laugh. “you should’ve seen my cousin’s faces when i showed them pictures of you. they were in shock. that’s how sexy you are.”

you moaned softly at his words. something you learned about jaehyun was how much he talks during sex, contrasting with how he usually keeps his thoughts to himself. it’s like a dam breaks loose once the pleasure hits and it’s one of your favorite things, listening to him tell you everything he adores about you, usually with his hand around your throat or your eyes glistening up at him while you take him in your mouth. this was new territory, though, phone sex not even being a thought before this night.

“you’re even hotter, though,” you breathed. you felt compelled to spin the narrative of the conversation on it’s head and compliment him instead, still not used to the unconditional affirmations jaehyun threw at you, even with it being something he does 80% of the time. “just being in the corner store with you sometimes.. people stare. and they don’t even know what’s underneath your clothes. they’d have a heart attack.”

“they’re staring at you, too, you know,” and just like that. it’s back to you. “you just can’t tell.”

you should’ve known your attempt to steer away would’ve been useless.

you ignored the statement, continuing what you were saying before. “i think the best part about it is knowing they’ll never have you. every person in the room has to watch us walk in and out together, wishing they were in our shoes, wishing they knew what it was like to be with us. for like, at least five minutes we occupy people’s minds. just as fantasies.”

“fuck, agreed. you said it perfectly.”

maybe people would think the two of you were conceited if they heard how you talked to each other, but no one else was in the relationship. they didn’t matter. they never did; not when you not-so-secretly foot-fucked him under tables at dinners or when you detached yourselves from events altogether, staying with the crowd until you got tired of it and wanted to separate.

it couldn’t have been healthy, you admitted to yourself. it honestly wasn’t even a matter of admitting anything to yourself; you knew it wasn’t healthy. jaehyun and his love was truly like a drug, in the best and worst ways. none of the judgmental stares or the whispered complaints around you mattered because all you needed was him, even if being with him as often as you were meant neglecting other responsibilities in your life here and there.

but it wasn’t like you were stupid. just in love with both him and love itself, something you hadn’t experienced in full until you met him. you hoped this period of your lives only boiled down into something less intense rather than turning sour, but even that wasn’t a thought you let sit for long. you knew it wasn’t likely.

you had already slid your hand under the waistband of your underwear and began to finger yourself when jaehyun spoke again.

“shit, i can hear how wet your pussy is.”

your mouth fell open a bit when you moaned this time. “only for you.”

“i know, baby,” he cooed, reassuring. “only for me.”

short gasps turned into whines, reciprocated through grunts in your phone’s glitchy speaker. you lied on your stomach, grabbed a pillow, and placed it between your legs. you moaned high when you humped down on it, slow and hard. “i really wish you were here..”

jaehyun moaned at your words. “can’t take care of yourself when i’m not around? are you that far gone?”

and there it was. amongst the long list of things he’d say to you in bed to get you going, telling you you’re useless without him was at the very top. you were that far gone, actually. you couldn’t remember how to navigate life without him next to you, and it had been driving you more nuts than his absense itself. since when were you a codependent person? you didn’t really know who you were anymore after being with jaehyun, but again it didn’t matter. he made you happy.

“you know i am,” you whispered.

he laughed.

after a few minutes of whimpering while humping your pillow and listening to jaehyun curse, nothing was enough, so he asked you to turn your camera on. you reached to your phone and facetimed him with shaky fingers, propping it in front of your face.

the look on his face when he loaded in was straight up lustful, and you watched him groan in reaction to your expression. you realized then how erotic you looked, eyebrows furrowed and mouth agape, eyes big and pleading with your cheek pressed into the sheets. almost just how he liked you, your usual dumb brain and whiney wet mouth coming a lot sooner when he was actually with you.

“love seeing you like this,” his handsome face distanced from the screen as he angled his phone lower to show you how he was touching himself, hard dick pulled out from his sweats and a hand wrapped around it loosely, tugging repeatedly. “look what you’re doing to me. let me see the rest of you, baby.”

your eyes fluttered shut at the pet name. you slipped your shorts off in the process of shifting your phone to display most of your body and jaehyun cursed under his breath, his voice farther away now.

you were able to think clearer this way, feeling less scrutinized without your focus being directly on each other’s faces. you felt good right now. really good, actually, pleasure making it’s way through you and settling in the marrow of your bones, but feeling good didn’t last forever. it never did, especially when jaehyun wasn’t there next to you for days. especially when at the end of the day you were only you, and jaehyun was only jaehyun, and separation was possible. you couldn’t bear the thought that you were living proof of that in this moment, alone in your room, humping your pillow as your boyfriend watched you through a screen. not really there.

“grind on it like you grind on me.”

you faltered a bit, then rolled your hips languidly against the fabric. you moaned at the same time he did and forced a laugh to acknowledge that, but it was cut off by another moan.

jaehyun was fucking into his hand roughly now, gripping it tight and thrusting quick and hard. his grip on the phone was shaky. he grunted. “i’m so fucking close.”

“me too,” you whined, gripping the pillow beneath you tightly as you worked yourself on it faster and harder. “wan’ you to cum inside me so bad.”

the desperate longing look on your face, the bounce of your ass as you dry fucked your pillow, the whimpered words leaving your mouth; it was all enough to push jaehyun past the edge. you watched his cum spirt out in three thick waves, silent, eyes shutting tightly as you slowly reached your own orgasm.

then the good feeling part was over. there was no physical aftercare he could offer you, no cuddling until you fell asleep and waking up to caramel coffee the way he made it. you were alone in your bed, bottom half almost completely exposed, head fuzzy. alone in your house, alone for the next few days.

yes he was coming back, but you’d be alone again eventually. his trip away felt like an awakening of sorts, you having stared at pictures of the two of you around the house wondering why you felt scared. it dawned on you that nothing as intense as love or grief was an experience that’s shared so strongly. you were going to die alone, one spirit and one body, no jaehyun ascending with you. you were one person, and you couldn’t even stomach the idea of it.

when had you become this way? you were stable when you moved here, determined to finish the long, hefty job of settling in by yourself. you got some help, but none of it was asked for. you were even fine when you met him, two individuals with an interest in each other. yet here the two of you were, an individual and their puppet.

a tear rolled down your face as you stared blankly at your boyfriend’s fucked out expression.

he pouted at you. “don’t cry, pretty.”

another tear fell and you wiped it away immediately, forcing yourself to keep it together. you felt weak, terribly so, but it was only temporary.

“promise me you’ll never leave me, jae,” you spoke, voice small. “please. this is unbearable.”

there was something dark in his eyes, as usual when you admitted how much you needed him in your life. it was a sign of success in your dynamic; something good usually happening after he got that look on his face, whether it be an expensive gift, a nice gesture, or just more encouraging words. it meant good news. you felt terrible now, but something good was going to happen. you were going to feel good again. you smiled and he smiled back, nodding his head playfully.

“‘til death do us part.”

[aforrestofstuff]

It’s time for the

One Punch Man Chapter 156 Expert Chapter Review 156 One Punch Man Review uuuuhhh

Let us begin! I am writing this while working and there is a woman on the phone yelling at me because I haven’t said anything for fifteen minutes but jokes on her, internet clout comes first bitch! I don’t know how to put people on hold so I allow them the privilege of listening to my breathing.

Retroactive addition: I’m writing this like 3 chapters later because I opened my drafts for the first time in two months and was presented with this… abomination… and I put just enough work into it to where I’d feel bad deleting it, so I figured I’d finish it and add my retroactive thoughts in italics like this. Please enjoy!

Ever since Flash kicked the shit out of Hellfire Flame and his anemic boyfriend, he’s just been having the worst fucking day of his life and that’s what you get for being a fucking fruit you high-heeled piccadilly shit.

“A being who truly wants to help the weak does not exist” Yeah right, fucking bozo he’s right THERE. His name is Garou and you CANNOT laugh at him because he was born in a cardboard box all alone. Nice panel choice Murata, thanks for being the world’s only 50 year-old Garou stan.

I mentioned before that Garou’s entire introduction arc is just him betraying himself and his inherently good nature because that’s really what it is; this entire monster thing is him acting out due to anger and trauma and everyone else can fucking tell!! Saitama and Darkshine tell him to his face that he’s “playing” a monster because who he really is inside is a hero, and not the type working for the Association, the real heroic ideal that recognizes what it’s like to truly want to help the weak.

(And now as we approach the end of his Monster Play, it’s been really cool to see him become not what he wanted, but what he needed to be. Instead of being the Ultimate Monster, Garou is just returning to his Ultimate Self: being a sorta-hero and karate-chopping Sage Centipede or whatever [alongside City Z’s #1 Baseball Player in the Juvenile Detention Center].)

ONE makes it a point throughout the entire series that the Association heroes* don’t show up unless they’re getting compensated in some way or if something directly affects them, meanwhile Garou went in and risked his life just for Tareo and blocked the shed from Death Gatling just for Tareo and saved Tareo from bullies that one time and— you get the point. There’s the Heroic Ideal and then there’s the actual heroes, and Garou is the Heroic Ideal deep down, even if his actions don’t reflect that. Which makes him a hypocrite (also mentioned this in a previous review), yes, because he’s bitching to the Association heroes for betraying the exact ideal his entire intro arc revolved around him betraying, but hey! Uuuhh spicy narrative morality or something idk I failed English twice and have the reading level of a third grader. Anyways.

*Save for a select few (Sneck, Lightning Max, Metal Bat, etc.) who have selflessly risked their lives for innocents, sure, but even then, they lost those fights, and therefore, the Association is still deeply unreliable. Heroes, in general, are deeply unreliable. And when they’re not being unreliable, they are actively choosing not to participate. The entirety of the heroes can’t be painted with the same morality brush, some are definitely better than others on that front, but all of them can definitely only be counted on to a certain extent— another thing Garou hates about them. Another thing that makes him closer to the Ideal Hero. Another thing that makes him a hypocrite, because he has definitely also gotten his ass kicked once or twice (Ex. when he was trying to protect Tareo from Royal Ripper and Bug God).

I gave Garou a guitar so he can shred absolute shit while Platinum Sperm explodes behind him

I liked their fight. I think it was fucking ridiculous and stupid but that’s very fitting for OPM. You cant take this shit seriously when you’re watching a Gen Z kid in a black morph suit beat the shit out of a shiny dude named Platinum Sperm of all things. I don’t know what else I wanted to say about this. Uh, the fight was very nicely drawn. Yes. Murata is good at draw. Anyways.

Tatsumaki may be a human chihuahua but at least she’s really cool deep down or whatever idk she still owes me 20$ and I’m mad about it.

ONE and Murata really banked on making Tatsumaki an annoying little shit at the beginning of the series just so we’d all cry when her tragic backstory came out, okay. That’s fine. I’m fine.

Even though it was never true to begin with, it would’ve been really easy to characterize her as another tragic power-hungry proud hero who just wants to win the clit-measuring contest prior to this scene, but I’m really glad they added it in. It’s really cool to see how Blast has influenced her to the point where even she knows him better than God after the like, only ten minutes they’ve spent together. He’s really… her only role model. Which is interesting because it kinda opens this idea of like, a role-model chain? I assumed, at one point long ago, that Tatsumaki was the #1 bitch who didn’t look up to anyone else because she really couldn’t? Where else do you look when you’ve already reached the top? But then we figured out it was Blast and then it was this big oooooh moment so I just have one question: who does Blast look up to? Is there another, higher ceiling somewhere else that even he has yet to reach? …Maybe in that weird ass mirror dimension or whatever with the other Overpowered Rangers?

I kinda wish we got to see Tatsumaki react to the actual Blast, but I assume that’ll happen later. She’d probably either cry or pretend she’s too cool to have role models and idk which is funnier.

I thought Sage Centipede was a weird ass-pull but now, two months later, I’m proud to announce that The Character Arc Understander Has Logged On.

When I was first making this post a while ago, I was trying to think of a rant to make alongside Sage Centipede’s appearance because I really did think it was a weird, abrupt ass-pull in an attempt to pad the arc somehow. But now, after reading his death at the hands of Garou, I Understand.

SC and Boros are the same in the sense that they’re both absurdly overpowered enemies introduced abruptly just to show us, the audience, where the current protagonists are in terms of power and their intentions as a hero. Because, as I said, SC is a major stepping stone in Garou’s journey to becoming his ultimate self. I feel like Garou’s final battle with Saitama just wouldn’t feel as complete if his encounter with SC and all the things we learned about him (additional backstory, his cooperation with Metal Bat [oh em gee Batarou !!!🤧🤧], his capabilities in combat, etc.) didn’t exist, so I’m glad it does. Thanks ONE and Murata, you’re like, okay at your jobs or whatever.

In conclusion: if you want to write chapter reviews, make sure you finish them in time because then you’re gonna cringe at what you thought was happening later on when you actually do know what’s happening (or, at least have a better idea of it. I have never, in my life, known what the hell was going on). Cheers, have a good Sunday. I gotta go to church. I’ll pray for more Young Bang and then maybe get triple-baptized. idk, we’ll figure it out.

[serpent-of-the-silver-plumes]

would you mind talking more about bart and unreliable narration? I always hear people say unreliable narration but I've never seen any concrete examples from media I actually consume so I'd love your thoughts

Oh absolutely!! I actually wrote a thing about this a while back but then went 'this is not well written' and it got buried in my drafts, so I’m glad to have an excuse to pull that up and rewrite it. (Also sorry, this got really long.)

Basically, at one point I was listening to a podcast (Be the Serpent, ep 4), and they categorize different kinds of unreliable narrators into three types: the narrator who knows they are lying to you, the narrator who is lying to themself (and therefore you), and the narrator who is lying because they are missing some key information. I would argue that the three main pov characters of the Bartimaeus Trilogy each represent a different type of these unreliable narrators.

Going in backwards order, Kitty is the narrator who lies because she is missing some key information, at least until the third book. As a commoner, even one who is part of a resistance movement, her knowledge of magic is extremely limited and biased. Were we to go off of her point of view alone, we would get an inaccurate view of this world and the power dynamics that exist within it: that magicians are somehow special in holding magic and that they have evil demons who work alongside them in shared mischief/hunger for power/whatever.

However, because the books include other points of view, the full impact of that unreliability is not realized.

Similarly, Nathaniel lies to himself, especially in the later books. He ignores how much he personally contributes to upholding a system that depends on the oppression and slavery of other sentient beings, and squashes down the last traces of his moral compass. I don’t think he ever really questions the system of government or if it should be there and work the way it does.

To some extent, we do see through his unreliability as well, because Bartimaeus is around to keep a check on him and tell the reader that no, the magicians and their imperialism are bad, that spirits have very good reason to hate humans, and give us other world building details that contradict what Nathaniel believes.

But some of it is about what is going on inside Nathaniel’s own head, so there is also a lot that can’t be fully seen by an outside perspective that has to be assumed by the reader. Like he will deny the sentimental feelings he has towards Ms. Underwood and the guilt he had over Kitty’s supposed death and the fact that he even remotely cares about Bartimaeus, but actions speak louder than words.

Because both of these characters’ unreliability stem from a lack of understanding, having other perspectives in the book in some ways cancels out their unreliability, and actually ties their unreliability more to their character development than as a plot/narration device. Kitty grows more reliable throughout the series while Nathaniel gets less so until the end. This doesn’t make that unreliability useless though, especially in a series aimed for children. By getting each character’s point of view, we can see where they are coming from and how the knowledge and views they have affect the way they act, but there is also someone else to point out how they are wrong, to make you question how true what each individual says is.

Bartimaeus is entirely different from the first two characters. His narration is told in first person, unlike Nathaniel and Kitty’s third person. He talks directly to the reader and goes off on tangential footnotes that are not necessarily part of the events currently happening in the story. Because of this narration style, he also has the power to lie more directly to the reader than any of the other characters.

Given his life, it is understandable how he has gotten into the habit of lying. Every moment of his existence on Earth is spent under the power of someone else, so he lies in order to protect himself. There are some instances where he lies to his masters in order to escape punishment or to lead them into danger so he can be set free, but he also lies about his feelings because he cannot afford to be emotionally vulnerable.

For the most part, I think it can be assumed that the dialogue and most actions that happen in his pov chapters are told as they are, since much of that lines up with what goes on in the other characters’ perspectives, and also there are at least a few things that show him in a less-than-flattering light that he would probably leave out or change if he could. Instead, the lies he tells are largely about his past and his emotions, often done through exaggeration or omission, and cannot be collaborated by others.

When lying about his past, Bartimaeus frequently exaggerates his prestige and role in history. In Ptolemy’s Gate, Bartimaeus says that he talked to King Solomon about Faquarl’s tendency to brag about his historical importance. Even beyond the obvious irony, in the prequel we see Bartimaeus’s time at Solomon’s court, and while it isn’t technically impossible for him to have talked to Solomon about Faquarl, the timing and circumstances make it extremely unlikely. Although his other stories cannot be proven or disproven with what we know, this instance and his general tendency to brag outrageously makes it very likely that Bartimaeus at the very least embellishes.

However, despite being super showy about his past, Bartimaeus doesn’t actually include much important information. He very rarely talks about his great feats as a thief or assassin or anything else. When he lists his accomplishments, he describes building walls and talking to important historical figures. There’s a post somewhere (if I find it, I’ll link it) that explains this as being a way for Bartimaeus to try to take control of his reputation and therefore his life; by associating with safer jobs, he is less likely to be summoned for very dangerous and morally reprehensible jobs.

He does generally try to portray himself as clever and collected and just generally more cool than he actually is. There’s a moment at the end of the first book where he describes himself as trying to calm Nathaniel who is freaking out, and then the next chapter is from Nathaniel’s pov which describes him as being the calmer one while Bartimaeus is a fly anxiously buzzing around.

I don’t remember the exact line, but in the second book there’s an exchange that goes something like this:

“____” I said calmly.

“Stop your whimpering,” Kitty said.

The way Bartimaeus portrays himself is straight up contradicted by the more factual account of the words and actions of someone else. And presumably there are plenty of other times that we do not see contradictory evidence where Bartimaeus straight up lies about how he is reacting to something.

But one of Bartimaeus’s most unreliable points centers around humans. Throughout the books, he constantly talks about the ways he has killed and would like to kill his masters, if given the opportunity. Nathaniel is an exception, one that Bartimaeus does admit to the reader, but even in the third book when he talks the most about how he would kill Nathaniel or even join a demon rebellion if Faquarl offered right then and there, Bartimaeus does not actually follow through on these threats when he gets the chance. Despite all of his talk about how much he hates humans, Bartimaeus has as much of a positive relationship he can have with as many humans possible, given the circumstances.

A lot of his unreliability centers around Ptolemy, which is what some of Bartimaeus’s biggest lies of omission are about. In the first book, we do get the sense that Bartimaeus has a soft spot for at least some humans. His excuses of saving and looking after Nathaniel in order to avoid Indefinite Confinement, while likely not entirely false, do fall a bit flat. We even get a mention of “a boy I had known once before, someone I had loved.” Although this is not explicitly connected to Ptolemy at this point, mentions of brown skin and the Nile make a pretty obvious connection to Ptolemy, especially as Bartimaeus describes taking on Ptolemy’s form several times later on. There is a less obvious hint too, “I sat on the ground, cross-legged, the way Ptolemy used to do.” Even without knowing much about what kind of relationship Bartimaeus had with Ptolemy, that kind of detail shows ‘a devotion to detail that could only come with genuine affection, or perhaps even love.’

It isn’t until the third book until we learn anything substantial about his relationship with Ptolemy, and even then he doesn’t tell the whole story. The fandom jokes about how Bartimaeus just casually mentions in a foot note that he prefers a lioness form because the manes are annoying, and it’s not until the flashback that you find out that the mane is part of what got Ptolemy killed. And even with the flashbacks, you still never see the time that Ptolemy visited the Other Place.

There are a lot of posts on this site that talk about how Bartimaeus absolutely was idealizing Ptolemy, and how there’s some evidence that he isn’t the perfectly sweet never-did-anything-wrong innocent child that Bartimaeus describes him as (notably that part where he was vaguely annoyed that people kept coming to him to ask for help and interrupted his research). Not that Ptolemy secretly sucks or anything, but it’s really easy to let nostalgia skip over the less dramatic details of Ptolemy being an actual human being with flaws.

In summary, I would argue that all of the trilogy protagonists are unreliable narrators to varying extents, and Jonathan Stroud is a genius for how he manages to make it all work.

[nikatyler]

Semi-hiatus

Long story short, school starts again and my mental health is in shambles.

Short story long, how this blog will work, some more info about how I’ve been, what to expect etc. under the cut.

The queue will be running as usual (I might cut down on number of daily posts at some point though), and I’ll still do timezone reblogs in the usual times. Vi’s generation ends soon but my posting doesn’t. Remember I have four more generations of NSB and two generations of lepacy ready. I’ll probably do the thing where I post one save Mon-Fri and then one save at the weekends.

I also have some stuff in my drafts, so I will post that from time to time, I might make new posts at the weekends, but...that’s pretty much it? I won’t really be here. I won’t be catching up on your posts too often, I won’t be answering WCIFs, I’ll be answering asks late (if I get any I mean), I probably won’t participate in many tags and games and things like that, and I’ll be turning anon off. I’m sorry.

I’m also sorry because to some of you I promised I’d do some things, make some sims etc, and I was going to but I just didn’t and I’m sorry about that. Yes, I had time to do it but I pretty much only played one save because I’ve been miserable and couldn’t do anything else. I know, I know, whenever I come here, I’m joking, I look like I’m in a good mood, but I’m not, and the way things have been lately, I know I’ve become really unreliable. So yeah, sorry.

This will most likely be my last semester in uni (thank god). I don’t think I can make it, honestly. I’m tired. Of everything. I don’t know how much longer I can take this. I’m also tired of just not understanding what the fuck is going on with others. My social skills are basically nonexistent. I don’t know how to talk to people, how to maintain relationships, I don’t trust anyone because when I still did, people took advantage of me...it’s been really fun, basically. These three years have ruined me and the pandemic was just the cherry on top. And I’m tired of people being like, yeah you’re just exaggerating, it’s not that bad, stop worrying. I wonder what will have to happen to prove that I’m struggling the way I’ve never struggled before. No one believes me that it got bad. I guess it’s my fault too, because I usually hide it really well.

So yeah, before I get too sad, I think that’s it? Thanks for reading (or sorry you had to read through all that). I’ll still be screaming into the void on twitter from time to time. You probably won’t catch me on discord anymore because I’ve been gone for too long, I feel awkward using it now, and going back to the servers I’m in, so...but yeah, I’ll be on twitter, and I might scream into the void here on tumblr too. I’ll probably be back in full force in summer, or at least I hope.

Stay safe and don’t go out in the sun if you’re a vampire. You know how it is.

❤

[rataltouille]

GEOMETRY OF THE HOLY MOON (1 AM): A SHORT STORY

GENRE: surrealism, literary fiction.

POV & TENSE: this little space is not enough for how wild the form is so i talk about this later!!

SETTING: a small desi village, 1924-25.

TONE: dreamy, unsettling, melancholic.

THEMES: faith vs reality, how people perceive others and how they perceive themselves, grief dealt the wrong way.

AESTHETICS: the splash of water on a quiet night, thick clouds obscuring the sky, rippling the moon’s reflection on the water. the intensity of a garden in spring, the emptiness of a dying town, the suffocation from being singled out. hands grazing lightly but never fully held. a lingering sadness behind your laugh. believing in things you shouldn't believe in. putting faith on a starless sky.

STAGE: completed first draft, 4085 words.

LOGLINE: a young boy, surrounded by loss, claims to talk to god. the story follows him and his conversations with this god, all while his village spies on him as he weaves his way around the two most crucial and lonely years of his life.

LITERAL LOGLINE: on today’s news let’s talk about a small backward town that hates sad little boys who worship god, even though the place is lowkey a cult!!

CHARACTERS:

THE SUMMER BOY: he’s around thirteen, and he’s very emotionally attached to his past. he lost his family at a young age to an unstable force, so he spends his time talking to himself. he’s a quiet, demure and sweet person, always willing to help others. he’s outwardly oblivious and sees only the good in people to a point where he doesn't understand when they’re trying to do him wrong. but! considering how the story [like a lot of my others] has themes of perception vs reality, it needs to be said that he isn't all that innocent. he’s rather impulsive and rash, never afraid of hurting himself [and thus accidentally harming others].

A GOD: is he real? do we even know if he’s an actual god? a very elusive figure despite having a lot of screentime. he’s a surprisingly humanised character and arguably the one with the most empathy. he has a soft spot for the boy and the two have a deep bond which is not common for a human and a god to have. you don’t get insight to what the other gods are like, but they’re implied to exist. this story has a very messy and hazy view towards religion and godhood and their nature towards humanity, and this vague figure, a dreamlike character, is proof enough of that.

THE VILLAGE: okay so in general these people suck. the village consists of, well, the village, but they’re very fluid in the way they appear in the story? as in for the most part they appear as a collective, a unit. one character, the summer boy’s “friend”, is somewhat separate considering he’s a pretty important character. it’s very hard describing this unit of a character but essentially they’re the main antagonistic force and they hate the protagonist for seemingly no reason.

WHAT GOES DOWN:

sometime around this time, the boy chances upon meeting his “god”, this being who lives up in the clouds and whom he talks with often, except you don't know if this god is real or not. that’s one of the recurring themes of this story: what’s real and what isn’t. it’s :) a fun time :) for sure :)

essentially Things Happen And It Only Gets Weirder. i cannot even try describing what happens because it’s all very spoilery but let’s just say that this is a very sad story but not even in a “this makes me cry” manner, but rather in a “this is so fucked up wtf why”. the prose of this is very, very hazy and thick, in a manner that’s both smooth and suffocating. there’s also a lot of moon and water imagery which we love. i love the atmosphere + the setting—colonial india— as it’s a subtle but key element to the plot.

FORM:

OKAY YES be prepared for the true colours of how unhinged i am. i apologize for the form brainrot.

POV: so in this story i really said “what if it had all three of the main povs... jk jk... unless 😳😳” and then proceeded to use all three povs. you’re probably wondering, how did i do that? WHY did i do that? and my answer to that is: 🙂

the first-person pov: the summer boy narrates in first person. his pov takes up about 40% of the story, and this is where we unlock family backstory + how he feels about the various forces playing into his life. he’s an extremely unreliable narrator and he knows it; his narration oscillates between very naive and very self-aware, and this effect is pretty disconcerting. the summer boy is kind of a walking contradiction and we love that conflict.

the second-person pov: a god narrates in second person. his pov takes around 20% of the story, and his scenes all involve his conversations with the boy. his pov is extremely detached, and suspends belief because he seems awfully made up. there’s an edge to the prose in his narration, where you know that something's off, but you can’t exactly pinpoint what.

the third-person pov: the villagers narrate, either as a collective, or as an individual figure, in third person. they take up the other 40% of the story, and there are so many different people and differing opinions with this, and every time we read a third person excerpt it’s a different person, and this is mostly used to add onto the different ways in which the boy is perceived. this is also where the structural part of the form gets really wacky.

STRUCTURE: if my story isn't told in vignettes is it my story though /j. gothm is told in vignettes, each one between 50 to 500 words. the first and second person bits are normal-ish vignettes, with straightforward narration. the third person vignettes, on the other hand, are super assorted. we have a lot of epistolaric sections— there’s a letter, a folk song [which was found around the summer boy], and most of the conversation is told as just plain dialogue without tags. there’s also a phone call transcript, and finally some normal chunks of prose. what am i doing wtf.

also to add onto this the story is told non-linearly. 😀 the only thing that keeps me from going insane is the fact that there are chronological tags before most vignettes [also the manner in which they're tagged differs from pov to pov. for example a few of the third person conversations are marked just as “sunday” or “thursday”, while the summer boy’s narration is marked with the full date and year]

in all this clownery i completely forgot to mention what the tense was [the way everything else was so complicated that i forgot tense was a thing lmao] and good news!! it’s the only sane thing about this story!! it’s told fully in present tense. thank everything.

AN EXCERPT:

okay i’m once again not sharing much because this will be submitted to litmags 🧞

[The boy is scrawny as always. He carries an air of diswant— even death had rejected him when the plague killed only his grandmother— but walks like he doesn’t notice. He smiles at them, jitters, and wipes his hand across his knees. Blood comes away in thin, translucent lines. He saves it on the kerchief he keeps tucked in his shirt, careful to dirty the cloth even more. The villagers scrunch their noses in disgust; who knew how old and rotten the kerchief was, or how long it had carried blood like the unwashed sword of a warrior?]

also by the way this excerpt is in square brackets because it is a third-person interjection in a vignette that is otherwise first-person [at this point...]

SPARE THOUGHTS:

this was inspired by a conversation i had with my grandfather, where he was telling me about how people used to sing songs to the skies, as a way of devotion to a specific god. he used the [loose translation of] the english word “yearning” to refer to the emotion the singers would invoke, and that sparked the concept of a disillusioned young boy who talks to the moon as a way to please the god he’s in love with. it’s a very softly disconcerting story and once again deals with the theme of “perception vs reality” which if you know me and my work, is the theme i’m forever obsessed with.

i really like how this turned out? the atmosphere is exactly how i wanted it to be, and there’s so much i have to add on as i edit and i’m really looking forward to that. this is also the only short story i’ve written where i knew which litmag i’d love for it to be published in? like i never write things with publishing in mind, but for some reason while writing this story it occurred to me that it would be a perfect fit for this specific magazine and i love that. anyway if you’ve made it through the post till here,,,, bless you and your braincells. and that’s all for today!!

[jeogiyall]

Pas De Deux; H.HJ

Word Count; 9.7k

Genre; Fluff, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Reader X Hyunjin

Warnings; Swearing, Suggestive, I would advise against reading if you have abandonment issues? It’s brought up a few times,,

Additional; Featured Chan, Felix, Jisung, and Minho; Ballerina Reader, Dance Partner Hyunjin, Reid once again writing about something that she has no idea how to do, (Sort Of) Slow Burn

A/N; when i tell u guys that i literally have no self control,, THE ORIGINAL DRAFT OF THIS WAS 10.46K ASFDSFS someone save me from myself. i’m sorry if anything’s inaccurate, i haven’t done ballet since i was like five and most of my research is from the unreliable internet,,, so if any ballerinas read this and are repulsed i’m sorry asdfdsa. please leave something nice if you enjoy <3<3<3<3

The last time that you saw Hwang Hyunjin was in fifth grade. You were wrapped up in each other on your front porch, him choking out tears as though it hurt. 

“Jinnie!” You cooed while running a hand through his short black hair, “I’m not dying, just going to boarding school!” His cries (along with the ringing guilt in your ears) only grew louder, “You’re really good at dancing, just audition next year!” He shook his head fervently against the crook of your shoulder, wet tears falling onto your skin.

“You know I suck at ballet!” If it weren’t for his palms pulling at his teary cheeks you would’ve giggled, maybe even teased him for the time in class that he almost broke his wrist while warming up at the barre. But he was crying, he was sad, and he was convinced that he’d never see you again. The sight alone was enough to make you pout, which only served to make him cry harder, “You could join my contemporary class for the summer?” He asked with starry, red eyes. It was almost enough to make you say yes.

“You know that I suck at contemporary!” The boy giggled at your counter, a sound that made your heart soar amidst all of the crying.

“Yea, you do...” He brought a hand up to his cheeks, trying desperately to wipe away tears that wouldn’t stop falling, “Just promise that you won’t forget me! I won’t forget you so you can’t forget me!” His pinky finger extended so it was nearly brushing the spot in between your eyebrows, and you were hit by the whispers of your first crush. With the summer days spent riding scooters in your driveway, and the winter ones spent sledding in it. With the long nights spent giggling about nothing underneath a blanket fort, or the endless days spent climbing trees in the bottomless woods behind the boys house. You were hit with the last five years all at once, and you knew instantly that even if he wasn’t standing in front of you with a teary face that you would still promise.

“I promise.” You answered while hooking your pinky in his as if it were a vow.

The school ended up being a perfect fit, your favorite part being the dorm room all to yourself. Even though it was small, and very ugly, it was all yours. Just like the friend group that blossomed out of your first ever co-ed class (which is sadly not a very interesting story. Han Jisung just made you swear to not dislocate his shoulders during partner stretches, and who are you to break a promise? Afterwards you received an invite to sit with him and his friend at lunch, the rest is history. Loud, annoying history.)

Nothing could’ve made it better... Well, nothing except for your sweet friend who had once occupied each thought in your head. Your sweet friend who’s summers were suddenly too full to see you, even for just a day. 

Your sweet friend who didn’t keep his promise.

* 

When it was announced that the contemporary and ballet branches of your dance institute would be merging for a year, your mind immediately jumped to Hyunjin. Despite not seeing him for almost six years. He always had such a passion for the style, making you miss out on hours of homework to watch videos of his favorite performers (it’s not like you minded too much, though.)

Han’s, on the other hand, was pure rage. Pure rage which he was letting out from your bed while watching you unpack.

“I just don’t get why they have to take a ballet class too! I have enough trouble getting solos as is.” The boy pouts while resting his head on your orange wood headboard. You’d feel sympathetic if it weren’t for the fact that he was blatantly lying, Han Jisung had gotten nearly every solo since eighth grade. Instead you roll your eyes dramatically and throw him a wadded ball of fabric from your suitcase. Naturally, he screams.

“Shut the fuck up and be helpful.” You scold, earning a childish whine while he sits up to fold the countless leotards. 

“Remind me why I missed you?” He grumbles just as your other, much nicer, friend walks into the cramped room.

“Aww, you missed me Sungie?” Felix asks, voice booming deeply through the space. The two of you instantly drop the clothes in your hands and run to the boy, which you should reprimand Jisung for seeing as he just lifted a finger. But you don’t, because Felix is here with more freckles than the last time you saw him and fresh pink hair that’s definitely going to be dyed natural again within the first week.

“Yes.” The energetic boy answers while worming his way into your hug. Felix giggles softly while petting Han’s dark brown hair before pressing noisy kisses all over his cheeks. He pokes Felix’s ribs as retaliation, to which the boy screeches (directly into your ear, might I add,) and it’s back to the normal, loud chaos “I will kill you!”

“Hey! No murder in my room, if you’re gonna do that go in the hallway!” You snap playfully, pushing Jisung away while moving back into the hug, “Help me unpack? Jisung hasn’t done shit.”

“Not fair!” The boy shouts from your bed, which he’s already plopped back down on.

“I’ll help, besides do you even want him folding your clothes?” You look over your shoulder to see Jisung with his hands tangled up in three different leotards, then back to Felix with terrified eyes. 

‘No,’ you mouth, eliciting another laugh from your friend. He moves over to the bed as well, then sets Jisungs hands free. The three of you talk mindlessly for hours, rambling on about Felix’s summer home and the month that you and Jisung spent traipsing around the boys hometown.

“How do you feel about the merger?” You ask suddenly, cutting Jisung off in the middle of an embarrassing story about a night spent at his house. Felix sighs deeply while tossing you the rolled leotard (your favorite one, light blue with pearls sewn around the collar,) while Jisung throws a wadded up pair of tights at your face.

“It’s fine I guess, just for a year right?” You shrug while the brunette puts on a grimace, hands suddenly very busy with folding, “They really need that rebuild, building’s falling apart. Ours is way better and we have extra room, so why not share?” 

“Tell that to the rat in my mini fridge.” Han grumbles while passing you a pile of black leotards. You laugh and accept, but not before ruffling his stiff hair. 

“Okay, I’ll make sure to do that the next time I’m in your room. Are you done bitching now?” The brunette pokes his tongue out at you jokingly, to which you respond with blowing a raspberry, “Felix is right, besides how terrible is it going to be? We’re all dancers right, and stuff like that is meant to be shared. Who are we to say that they can’t come and learn?” The room turns uncomfortably quiet, Jisung gnawing at his lower lip while Felix picks up his phone.

“Damn it!” The Australian exclaims as his screen lights up. You and Han look at him with furrowed eyebrows before he rolls his eyes and brings the phone up in between your faces, “Administration says I have to fix my hair.” 

Han doubles over with laughter, knocking the mountain of leotards (followed shortly by himself) onto the floor. You follow his lead, and before you know it the three of you are clutching your sides and wiping away happy tears. Felix’s hands ruffle into your hair with a hum, “Maybe I can try Jisungs color, hmm?” You duck away with a snort.

“No! I draw the line at matching hair!” The brunette defends, hands moving to cover the top of his head. Felix lunges at him, fully ready to engage in a tickle fight. Naturally, Jisung screams as if he’s being murdered. It should be annoying, any other time you would find it annoying. But these are your best friends, one of which you haven’t seen in over a month, and for some odd reason your heart feels so full that it could explode. 

“C’mon Lix, I’ll do your hair. What do you think about blonde?” 

And even though tomorrow your school is going to be flooded with new people, and your classes full of students who have probably never done more than basic positions, in the moment it feels okay. Because one of your best friends is screaming ‘NO DON’T TOUCH MY HAIR!’ while the other assures him that ‘It’ll probably most likely be okay! Look, she did mine!’ It’s a perfect chaos that you wouldn’t trade for anything.

*    

There have been plenty of strange coincidences in your life. Like how your first dog was named Felix, and it’s now the name of one of your best friends (who’s hair ended up looking perfectly fine, thank you very much.) Or how your usual waiter at the diner in Jisungs hometown ended up being the cousin of your first kiss. Or how your dorm room is the only one on the hall with painted walls, that just so happen to be your favorite color. Plenty of weird things, but none are as weird as this. Because you’re sitting on the floor of your second class of the day, ‘Intro To Pas De Deux,’ and Hwang Hyunjin has just entered through the side door. Two minutes late.

He’s hard to recognize at first, seeing as there’s more than an added foot of height and black hair that’s creeping down the back of his neck, but the more you look the more you recognize. Pillowy lips, full cheeks, a freckle right in the set of his eye bags. You’re not entirely sold until he laughs, a sweet and breathy sound. The laugh that’s always been three seconds away from turning into a wheeze.

“What’s wrong?” Jisung questions while pulling himself up by your hands, eyes following the line that yours draw to Hyunjin, “Do you know him or something?” 

You’re about to answer when Hyunjin finally turns around, eyes scanning the room before settling on you. He thinks that you look different, too. Taller and slimmer, everything that used to be squishy replaced with soft muscle. But there’s also the bridge of your nose, your hands that are barely gripping Jisungs, and of course your eyes that are staring at him like it hurts. 

“(Y/n?)” He questions, your name falling from his lips as though it’s meant to do so. You nod, mouth falling open dumbly. The boy takes a step forward then freezes.

“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on? Or at least help me finish stretching?” Jisungs voice reeks of annoyance, you think that if you weren’t in such a state of shock that you’d flick him on the forehead.

“You go to the contemporary school?” Jisung doesn’t take well to being ignored, puffing loudly while scrambling to finish stretching at the barre. Your brain immediately flashes back to Hyunjins second ballet class in third grade, when you were teaching him your favorite warm up stretches. He ended up tangled in between the barre and the wall, which shouldn’t even be possible, but Hyunjin managed. 

“Um... Yea.” Every inch of your body is screaming to stand up and engulf him in a hug, but your legs feel like jello. That, and there’s a small feeling of anger rising in your throat, “L-let me help.” He plops down in front of you before you can say yes. You don’t have to though, Hyunjin still knows that you can’t refuse him. You take his hands in yours, definitely ignoring the pink flush to his cheeks, and pull his torso towards you. 

“It’s been six years.” The words come out choked, full of the pain from your first summer without him. When you’d spend hours playing out in the sun, knocking on your friends front door every morning. He was never there. 

“Sorry.” You want him to show some type of emotion, let you know that he cares. That he’s actually sorry for breaking his promise, “I tried to come and see you in July but you weren’t home.” 

“I was at Jisung’s house, we spend the summers together.” If you were more angry and less hurt you would say ‘now that I don’t spend them with you,’  but he’s still Hyunjin. He’s still Hyunjin, and you don’t think that you could handle the way he would frown at your snide remark. 

Jisung flashes you a look from his place at the barre that reads ‘Who is this guy and why do you look so sad?’ You let Hyunjin pull you into the stretch while responding with a gaze that says ‘I’ll tell you later.’  Hyunjins grip tightens on your hands as you exhale deeply into the stretch, the light blue fabric of your leotard brushing against the dance studio floor.

“(Y/n,) I-” Maybe it’s the way that he licks his lips before talking, or the fact that he looks so much and so little like your best friend at the same time, or possibly even how you can feel the way that he hugged you at your last meeting sitting on your shoulders like a winter coat, but his hands suddenly feel like fire.

“I have to go!” You exclaim, popping up out of the stretch and onto your feet in one swift motion. The boy looks up at you with puppy dog eyes that spark a feeling so intense in you that you have to look away, “I have to go, I-I’ll um... I’ll see you around.” You dash off to the spot in front of Jisung, silently thanking every star in the sky that Hyunjin doesn’t have a chance to follow you. Because just as soon as you get up someone else sits down and begins to excitedly ask the boy questions (he’s short, with a petite frame and an unfamiliar face. Probably another transfer student.)

“Did he say something to you?” Jisung asks as you jump into your favorite warm up routine. There’s not really a right way to answer, because did he say anything just now? No, but six years ago he said that he’d never forget you. He promised as much, and then spent every moment doing nothing but that. You exhale while your feet continue to move instinctively, a slight sense of peace washing over you at the comfort of a routine. 

“We should focus, class is starting soon.” Jisung whines and argues, but you just ignore him. Similarly to how you ignore Hyunjins gaze on you for the rest of the class. 

*

Ignoring Hyunjin is much easier than you anticipated. In class you can distract yourself with Jisung before the teacher comes in, and lunch is fine enough. While he is there, sitting at a table that’s painfully close to yours, he doesn’t try to talk. Or worse, come and snatch up the free seat across from Felix. But no, he does nothing of the sort. Just laughs with his friends and shoots the occasional glance your way (the one composed of sparkly eyes and lips that are a breath away from pouting.)

But then there’s now, standing in the doorway of your stage chemistry class and Hyunjin is all that you can see. Hyunjin, standing in the center of the room and pressing play on the terribly outdated stereo. Hyunjin, running a hand through his raven black hair and inhaling deeply with closed eyes. All you wanted was to get your jacket, but now you have enough Hyunjin for a lifetime.

Loud, bass heavy music swells in the room as he starts to move. At first the movements are jerky, awkward almost. But then the music decrescendos every so softly and he exhales, then proceeds to move as if the dance is being pulled out of him. As if this choreo is the way that he was programmed to move. When the song peaks you swear that you feel tears prickling the back of your eyes, because this is so Hyunjin. The way he’s dancing with every bone in his body, the way his hair is now dripping in sweat and flying all around him, the way his plump lips suck in air. It’s Hyunjin down to the core, and you’ve missed him so much.

When the music dies you clap slowly, causing the boy to shoot up like a frightened cat. He whips around to where you stand, softening like butter when he sees your frame leaned up against the wooden door frame.

“You scared me!” He shrieks, bringing up a hand to clutch his chest. It reminds you of your last Halloween with him, when the two of you got to trick or treat alone. Hyunjin decided that it would be a great idea to go to a fear farm, in which he screeched and clung to you the entire time. It wasn’t even that scary, he’s just a baby.

“Sorry.” You answer, mouth going as dry as the desert, “You, um... You’re really good.” He laughs flatly while moving over to his dance bag to pull out a towel. You watch as he dabs the sweat away, something stupid and needy churning in your stomach. You write it off as hunger.

“Thanks, I still suck at ballet though.” It’s a joke, you know it’s a joke, but something about laughing feels wrong.

“You don’t.” You take a step into the room, wandering over to where your windbreaker is piled on the floor next to the boy, “I’ve seen you in class, and you’re not bad. Just out of practice.” He lets out another flat laugh while dropping the towel, quickly exchanging it with a water bottle.

“Yea, about nine years out of practice. I barely even remember how to do a pirouette.” He’s trying so hard to make you laugh, just like the old days. The growing tension in your shoulders and lump in your throat is preventing that from happening.

“I can teach you.” You offer while shrugging the jacket on. Within seconds he’s babbling out excuses, which you wave off, “Don’t even worry about it, I need to practice anyways.” You bend down to untie your sneakers before moving to the center of the room, Hyunjin following in quick succession, “So you obviously know the proper foot technique, pointed toes only and all of that. And the retire position is just your foot in the notch above your knee.” You demonstrate it in the mirror, and even though he’s far from being a ballerina he’s done enough classes to know that you want him to copy it, “Yea, good. It looks good.”

“Where are my shoulders supposed to be?” He asks shyly, not used to questioning such simple things.

“Back, always back. Now check that your hips aren’t tilted, I-I’ve always been told to imagine that they’re a fruit bowl.” You steal a quick glance at the boy while he’s adjusting, heart fluttering the same way that it did so many years ago, “Okay, now um... Now put your feet into fourth position, just like that yea, then bend your knees and push off from your back leg.” You do the turn, a motion so natural that it might as well be brushing your teeth, “Like that, easy peasy!” The boy scoffs while bringing up his arms the same way that you had yours just seconds ago.

“Yea, easy peasy for you!”  A soft giggle falls from your lips, bouncing off the walls of the empty studio (as well as Hyunjins ears.)

“C’mon!” You tease while moving around to face him, a soft smile playing at your lips, “You see me mess up in class all of the time, just go for it. The worst that could happen is being wrong.” He nods, then exhales shakily. When he does the turn it’s a bit wobbly, but definitely not anything worse than what you’ve seen before.

“Oh my god, (Y/n) that was terrible like genuinely awful-” The words feel harsh, but he’s wearing a bright smile and laughing like there’s not a care in the world. You can’t help but laugh too.

“No, no! It was fine!” You assure through a laugh as he gets back into position. From the corner of your eye you see him mouth ‘liar,’ which earns him a harsh flick between the eyes, “Just bring your hips a little more forward like...” It’s instinctual for your hand to fall onto his hipbone, something you’ve done to Felix hundreds of times. The main difference is that when you adjust Felix he usually tells you to fuck off, then softly knees your stomach. When you do it to Hyunjin he audibly chokes and you feel fire ignite beneath your fingertips, “Like this. Now go into fourth and try again, but keep your hips aligned!” The boy nods before sinking into position and pushing up into a flawless turn.

“I did it!” He exclaims, hands flying up like he’s about to hug you, “You were right, you were right I did it!” Something about his wide, excited eyes makes every wall built around your heart crumble into dust. So you accept the hug, once again allowing yourself to fall victim to the sweetness that is Hwang Hyunjin.

“I was what, I was... Did you say right?!” He rolls his eyes at your teasing, trying desperately to pretend like he didn’t miss it. It’s useless, because the way that Hyunjin’s holding you let’s you know that he’s missed you just as much as you have him, “Alright big guy, let me go. I’ve got studying to do and shoes to break in.” He whines lowly, arms trying to grab you as you snake away. 

“Can we get dinner together or something?” He begs, hand briefly tangling itself in yours. You fight down the blush rising to your cheeks while pulling your hand away and stuffing it into your pocket.

“Not tonight, you have to keep practicing those pirouettes! But don’t worry, you’ll be seeing more of me... Partner.” Hyunjin smiles widely at your words, realization settling in as quickly as they leave your mouth.

“Do you mean...?”

“Yes,” You exhale, mentally preparing for another bone crushing hug, “I’ll be your partner for class.” 

Hyunjins hug is almost nice enough that you forget about how annoying Jisung’s going to be when you tell him.

*

It turns out that the friends Hyunjin made are almost as amazing as the ones that you did. Everyone was a little awkward when the two groups first merged, specifically Jisung who was still butt hurt about you switching partners. But then Felix got to talking with Chan (the person who’s been mothering your friend ever since he started at the contemporary institute. From the way they talk, Hyunjin would’ve both starved and failed if it weren’t for the older boy,) and suddenly everyone was meeting in your room on Fridays for a weekly game of uno. 

“Absolutely not, you’re fucking cheating!” Minho (the other new face from your stage chemistry class,) shouts while pointing a finger across the card pile and into Jisungs face. The boy moves to jokingly bite at it, causing Chan’s eyes to go as wide as the moon.

“No, no, no! No murder, and no biting what the hell!” You snort at your new friends bewildered expression while passing a canned sparkling water to Hyunjin. He accepts with a smile before mouthing ‘they’re insane!’ Felix sees and proceeds to nail him in the face with your favorite throw pillow.

“Says the guy who sleeps in socks-” Hyunjin throws the pillow back harshly, causing Chan to damn near pass out. It’s all that you can do to not roll over with laughter.

“My feet get cold.” He grumbles with a pout that makes both you and Minho coo from your spots beside the boy.

“Okay, okay, Minho just pick up the cards and let’s keep going? I’m about to finish!” The boy grumbles angrily, all ‘stupid card game’ and ‘I don’t wanna pick up twenty cards!’ You lock eyes with Chan from across the card pile, taking brief solace in the presence of someone else with a functioning brain.

“So we all know that (Y/n’)s about to win, and that she’s my best friend and favorite duet partner,” Everyone answers him with an immediate ‘rude,’ which makes a girlish giggle bubble up in your throat, “which is why it makes me so terribly sad to do this.” You watch closely as he dramatically pulls a card from his hand then places it on top of the deck, a fat draw four staring you straight in the eyes. Everyone goes silent while watching your face fall drastically.

“Hwang Hyunjin, I am going to-” The room bursts into chaos before you even finish the sentence. In the end there are about twelve fresh bruises, six entirely hoarse sets of vocal chords, and one demolished dorm room. Just a normal Friday night.

Except for the way that your heart stutters when Hyunjin mouths a simple ‘love you’ over the bustling group. That’s not normal, but you think that you like it.

*

“Hyunjin, if you keep your hands there I’m going to fall.” You say to your duet partner, whose hands are wandering aimlessly up your torso. They’re supposed to be on your hips, serving as an anchor for your body while it dips towards the ground. 

“Sorry, sorry.” The boy mumbles, not entirely meaning it. It’s impossible to be sorry when he can physically feel your heart speed up beneath his hands.

“Try to sound just a little bit less convincing next time, okay?” You shimmy slightly in a futile attempt to move his hands, which only makes him laugh brightly. If it weren’t for your less than ideal position (halfway bent into a split with every ounce of your weight balanced on the tips of your toes,) you would hit him.

“Do you want me to drop you, because I can drop you if it’s what you want-” The teacher snaps her fingers, pulling everyone’s attention out of the various warm up routines and to the front of the room. Hyunjins hands pull away from your torso so quickly that it burns.

“No dropping dance partners on purpose, that’s the first rule of building stage chemistry.” She chastises, eyes brushing briefly over your friend which causes him to turn thirty shades of pink. You giggle quietly to yourself before sticking your tongue out at him, “But of course, you can’t truly start to build a connection until there’s material. So that’s what we’re doing today, I’ve assigned each group with a pas de deux, or ‘dance for two’. Whoever I think shows the most promise within the next week will be given the opportunity to enter in the regional competition.” She says opportunity, but the stern tone of her voice means that whoever she picks will definitely have to do the competition.

Everyone floods to the front of the class before she even finishes, Hyunjin moving to do so as well before you quickly grip his wrist.

“She didn’t say to go yet, and if we want to qualify for that competition we’re going to have to start kissing up now.” You keep your face forward, chin up and shoulders back, but even then you can feel Hyunjins smile, “What?!”

“You want to do the competition?” He sounds hopeful, nearly childlike.

“Of course! That’s like half the reason I go to school here, the competitive atmosphere.” People are starting to settle back into place, your teacher wearing a look of utter annoyance. Hyunjin doesn’t seem to notice, seeing as his mouth keeps moving.

“I’ve only known how to do a pirouette for a month, and I still can’t really get my double. You’d have a better chance with Han, or-” As soon as the teachers back is turned you whip around to your babbling partner, hands planted firmly on his broad shoulders. It takes a second for his eyes to meet yours, but when they do he nearly melts.

“I don’t want to do it with anyone else, I want to do it with you. And just because your double isn’t perfect doesn’t mean that it’s not good so stop stressing.” He looks down for a second, cheeks growing as pink as your shoes. By force of habit you hook a hand beneath the boys chin and force him to look at you, “I mean it.” He swallows harshly, then nods. With a sigh you let go of the boy and return to your previous (assigned) position. Just in time too, seeing as the teacher turns around right as you settle next to the boy.

“You may check your assignments at the end of class, if you haven’t done so already.” You flash a knowing glance to Hyunjin, almost as if to say ‘I told you so.’ He knows better than to argue.

At the end of class you go up to look with Jisung while Hyunjin gathers your things for you, the short brunette babbling excitedly about the previously mentioned regional’s. 

“I thought that you don’t do partner work?” You tease lightly while ducking down to look at the list.

“I don’t, but neither does my partner! So we’ll just be okay at...” He bends next to, head full of brown hair hitting you straight in the eyes, “Romeo and Juliet?” You bite down a laugh while pushing the boy away.

“Don’t try to fight it, you’re such a Romeo. Just like I am such a... Lise!” The boys face contorts with jealousy as he ducks back down, once again knocking your heads together.

“You guys got La Fille mal gardee? And the ribbon dance?!” You giggle back a small yes while pinching the boys frowning cheeks, “No fair! Absolutely no fair, I have to do stupid Romeo and Juliet and you got my favorite ballet, no fair!”

“It’s my favorite too!” You defend, which ends up being pointless because both Hyunjin and Jisung chorus back with ‘not true!’ 

“Your favorite is swan lake.” Hyunjin states while sliding your dance bag onto your shoulder. Maybe it’s the fondness in his action, or the way that he named off your favorite ballet as though it was a fact ingrained into his brain, but your heart swells so large that you swear it could pop like a balloon. 

“Okay,” you exhale, hand moving to the spot where his fingers were ghosting just seconds ago, “one of my favorites.”

*

At your first rehearsal for regionals you and Hyunjin are given the ribbon to use, seeing as it’s literally the ribbon dance. Practicing without it was honestly getting awkward, which is unfortunate seeing as the boy nearly got it taken away within minutes. 

“Look (Y/n,) I’m a present!” He had exclaimed, causing you to whip around to the sight of your partner with a pink silk bow tied around his chin.

“Oh no, Hyunjin!” You whispered through a quiet laugh, moving towards him to untie it, “You are so ridiculous!”

“What? Am I not a gift?” He pouted while trying to pull your hands away, which earned him nothing but a harsh smack on the wrist. You slipped it off his face and behind your back just as the teacher walked in the door to give the ‘your ribbon is not a toy,’ talk.

At the second you describe the plot of La Fille mal Gardee, which proves to be slightly (read: very confusing.)

“Wait wait wait, she doesn’t even like the other guy?!” He asks while shaking his head cutely, black hair bouncing along with the motion. If it gets any longer he’s going to have to start putting it up.

“Nope, not one bit.” His eyebrows furrow as he starts to grumble ‘this is kind of stupid,’ earning a giggle and a push to the shoulder, “No it isn’t! It’s funny, and sweet! I really relate to Lise and her... Character arch I guess.”

“Isn’t she the girl who needed guarding or something like that?” His tilts to the side, teeth catching ever so slightly on his puffy pink lips.

“Yea,” You exhale with a quickening heart rate, “something like that.” There’s silence for a minute, nothing but Hyunjin shaking his head and sighing softly.

“That’s not you. No one needs to guard you.” For some reason your brain flashes back to the third summer alone (that awkward stage where you were too old to make new friends and too young to go see Jisung,) when you spent everyday walking through the woods alone. Sometimes you would just walk until the sun went down and your only company was the stars, but most days you would find a new place to sit down and hum out the motifs of your favorite ballets, “No one.”

For a moment you think that he’s right.

The fourth rehearsal (exactly one week after the first) is when you get to a stage kiss in the choreography, your teacher describing the motions along with a recording that’s projecting on the back wall. It starts with the boy pulling in the girl by the ribbon, then swooping down to meet her lips with a smile. Then she twirls away, leaving your skin hot and crawling. 

“We’re um... A-are we gonna do that?” Hyunjin asks through a whisper, leaning close enough that you can feel his breath. It’s warm and smells like spearmint.

“We’ll know when we get there I guess, now pay attention!” You push his face away from yours and back to the projection, watching as the couple wraps each other up in the silky ribbon.

When you do finally get there an hour later he looks so nervous that he could puke. Your teacher shouts out the next move, ‘kiss and then twirl away,’ which only adds to the painful drumming of your heart.

“It’s okay, (Y/n,) you don’t have to.” His voice is low, hushed. Almost like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear.

“No, no! It’s okay, I’ll just...” You lean forward as much as you can with the ribbon hugging your waist and press a feather light kiss onto the tip of his nose. The teacher coos, maybe even praises the two of you on the developing stage chemistry. You don’t hear it. You don’t hear anything over the erratic beating of your heart, “I’ll just do that, okay?” He swallows dryly, eyes flashing quickly down to your lips then back up to your sweet gaze.

“Y-yea, perfect.” There’s something building up in the space between your bodies, so thick that you could spread it over toast, “You should twirl away, right?” You nod, wanting desperately to stay. To kiss him in an earth shattering way.

A part of you thinks that you shouldn’t. That Hyunjin has the power to ruin every part of you, and that wanting to give that to him after your hearts already been broken is foolish. But you do, you want to. Because loving Hyunjin feels good enough that the pain doesn’t matter.

After the fifth rehearsal the two of you feel as though you’ve torn every muscle in your body. Your teacher decided within the first twelve minutes that the two of you would benefit from some conditioning, which resulted in you and Hyunjin holding side by side planks (as well as other terrible positions) and muttering curses for a solid hour.

“I’m gonna collapse.” Hyunjin whines, plopping down onto the hardwood floor beside his dance bag. Something that’s probably supposed to be a laugh falls out of your mouth before you pull the water bottle from your bag.

“At least you haven’t been wearing pointe shoes all day.” You groan while moving the bottle to your mouth. A mouthful of water slides down your throat right as the boys face twists into one of horror.

“Oh gosh, oh no I’m so sorry!” You try to wave the black haired boy away, which only makes him feel worse, “No, no! I wanna help let me umm... Come back to my room? I can set up a foot bath with...”

“Epsom salts.” You answer after swallowing another swig of water, “But I have all of the stuff in my room, I can take care of it.” Hyunjin whines again while rolling over onto his stomach and pushing himself into a sitting position. There’s a bead of sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose, something that you shouldn’t focus on. It catches on the tip before falling delicately onto his collar bone.

“I wanna take care of it,” It feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room, “just... Here, wear my jacket into the building so no one can see that you’re uh... A girl.” You try to argue again, but then your cheeks are squished in between his hand and his eyebrows are furrowed just enough for it to be cute, “Let me take care of you.”

And really, how could you say no to that?

*

“Hwang Hyunjin, you are my favorite person in the world.” You sigh, feet dipping into the warm cloudy water. He plops down next to you with a laugh and arms full of snacks.

“Can I get that in writing? You know, just to prove it to Jisung.” Laughter bounces off of his dorm walls, filling the boys brain with childhood memories. Like the time that you two were riding scooters in your driveway and just as the sun started to set you skinned your knee. Hyunjin had thought for a minute that the shaking of your shoulders was sobbing, but quickly discovered by a tilt of your chin and hands wrapped around your sides that you were indeed laughing. Beautiful, clear laughter complete with sunshine dripping from your skin. It was the first time he can remember thinking that someone was beautiful.

“Yes!” You exclaim, effectively pulling the boy from his memory, “But only if you give me food.” He giggles tiredly, a sound so sweet that it might as well be honey, and tosses a bag of pita chips your way.

“You don’t even have to ask.” 

You’re supposed to go back to your dorm at eleven, thirty minutes after arrival. But then Hyunjin starts talking about anything and everything, ranging from how he met Minho to the old building of his school. The way he chuckles sleepily while reminiscing on water logged ceilings is enough to make you melt.  

Somehow your head ends up pulled against his chest, rising and falling with his breaths. There’s an arm tied around your waist like ribbon, lips softly brushing your hairline as he mumbles endlessly about everything, your leg across his lap as though they’re supposed to be. 

“What time’s it?” You slur, clenching onto the fabric of his shirt. It smells like spice and fresh pine and Hyunjin. So much like Hyunjin.

“Midnight.” You think to yourself that it’s time to leave, that if any of the staff found out about this you’d be dead. You also think that Hyunjin smells like fresh pine and that he’s holding you in a way that you’ve never been held.

The sound of his even breathing and the weight of his arms on you lulls you to sleep in a matter of minutes.

*

When you wake up it’s to the obnoxious blaring of Hyunjins alarm. The boy whines lowly before punching it into snooze. It’s enough to make you laugh, then pull your head away from the cradle of his chin.

“C’mon sleepy, it’s time to get up. What do you have for breakfast?” If it weren’t for your hair tickling his cheek or the way your torso writhes beneath his arm he would be annoyed by your chirping voice. After the hundreds of early mornings school has thrown your way you can’t really help but be a morning person. 

“More sleep, that’s what I have.” He grumbles as you crack the curtains open, trying desperately to pull the comforter over his eyes.

“You need food to fuel your body Hyunjin-” Before you can finish lecturing him an arm shoots up from beneath the gray blanket, crashing your body onto his with a sleepy groan.

“M’ just kidding.” He pulls you under the blanket with him, mimicking the first time he spent the night at your house. You two stayed up until the sun was rising, hidden away from the world by the fluffy pink comforter of your childhood bedroom, “Protein bars are in the closet and apples’r on top of the mini fridge.

It’d be so easy to skip classes and stay here all day, not a care in the world besides the sweet boy that you’re currently tangled in. A part of you wants to melt away and give in, but a bigger part knows that doing that is a commitment. Like saying that you’re his to hold and break however he pleases. It’s the scariest thought that you’ve had in months.

“W-we should get going. Yea?” The words sound like you’ve been choking on them. A fact that Hyunjin takes notice of, eyes growing sad and attentive as his arms wiggle away from your waist.

“Yea, yea. Minho will be here in ten minutes, we walk to pas de deux together.” Before you can help it your expression turns panicked, eyebrows shooting up as your jaw drops open, “Sorry! He’s not gonna tell anyone or anything I promise!” Something clenches in your chest at the sight of him sitting up in bed, black hair sticking up every way that it can.

“I know he won’t, it’s just...” You look down at your body, clothed with Hyunjins sweatshirt and a pair of his long socks (turns out that he was onto something with the whole ‘sleeping in socks’ thing,) “I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.” His gaze shoots up to meet yours, so soft and relaxed that you could cry.

“Which would be?” There’s a pounding in your ears that’s quickly recognizable as a heartbeat. 

“That we’re together.” It’s barely above a whisper, but Hyunjin hears you loud and clear. From the light tremble to the breathy finish, he hears you.

“We could be, if that’s what you want.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, an action familiar enough that it’s normal yet tender enough that your cheeks are flushing pink, “Is that what you want?” 

“I-I, um...” Your heart is screaming yes, that you want to be his and only his. That while you aren’t a girl who needs to be guarded, you are a girl who wants to be guarded. Guarded from everything by Hyunjins thin comforter and strong arms.

But then you think about the promise that Hyunjin broke. The promise that he wouldn’t forget you, and then broke less than twenty-four hours later. You think about how badly you’ve wanted to spend the last day of summer with him every year since. Your mouth opens right as a knock sounds against his door, “Can we talk about this later?” Hyunjin nods lightly while getting up to grab two apples off of the top of the mini fridge. 

“I’m so sorry for however he reacts.” The boy groans under his breath, offering you a light green apple along with an apologetic smile. You accept, smiling back before popping out of bed to pull your dance bag over your shoulder.

“It can’t be that bad, Minho’s level headed.” If it weren’t for the fact that Hyunjin still has a question lodged in his throat he would’ve laughed.

You’re the one who finally opens the door, interrupting Minho mid-knock. At first he looks aggravated, ready to launch into a long speech about how ‘timeliness is important’ and ‘you always fucking make us late’ but when his eyes meet you his jaw goes slack. 

“What the f-”

If the sound of Minho screeching wasn’t telling enough, you were very very wrong.

*

The next four days are spent dancing around Hyunjins burning question, constantly talking about anything else or switching the topic when it seems like he might bring it up. At first he barely notices, simply assuming that you need time to mull it over, but then Jisung and Chan sit in on a lunchtime rehearsal.

The dance is coming along perfectly, so much so that the boys don’t even notice your hesitations. Hyunjin sees it though. Sees the way that your hands tremble before planting on his shoulders, the way that your face looks sad after pressing the soft kiss onto his nose. While he hasn’t seen you dance as much as Jisung or Felix probably have, he’s still seen enough to know that you’re never like this. Never uncertain.

“What was that about?” The boy asks after the rehearsal, hands crossed against his chest. You’re going to ignore him, focus on nothing other than getting out of your pointe shoes and off to your next class, but then his dark brown eyes catch on yours, “Seriously!”

“What are you talking about?” You respond, fingers working quickly to undo the ribbons around your ankles. A sigh leaves your mouth as one shoe slips off and into your bag, quickly moving to the other one before Hyunjin can continue the questioning.

Turns out that your friend is terrible at picking up on social cues.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Your head is briefly pulled up from the floor as his voice grows impossibly soft, your heartbeat faltering ever so slightly. There’s a quiet goodbye as Jisung and Chan leave the studio, “Y-you scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, throwing the second shoe into your bag while a lump takes form in your throat. If he wasn’t your best friend then he would think that you’re just tired, or hungry, or anything other than deflecting. But he is your best friend, who knows that being tired or hungry only makes you sad. Your best friend who knows that you’re deflecting harder than you ever have before.

“It’s okay, just tell me. Please.” His last word is so hushed that you can barely hear it, but it’s there. Light, and airy, and perfectly there, “Is this about what I asked?” Before you can help you’re nodding, once again giving this boy every part of you that can break.

“Yea, kind of.” It feels like your mouth is full of cotton, leaving you uncomfortably hot along with speechless. A loud sigh rings through the studio as Hyunjin slides down to meet your height, hands burying into his raven black hair. The sight takes you back to the last day of fifth grade; you and him holding each other on your front porch as if the world was ending, your hands tangled into his hair.

“Is it because you don’t want to?” There’s his eyes on yours, your chest heaving, and nothing else in the entire universe. Just (Y/n,) the girl who wants to be guarded, and Hyunjin, (Y/n’)s beloved.

“No.” 

“Then why didn’t you say yes?” Right now feels like when you’re at a competition, in the middle of a variation that’s been giving you hell since you started working on it. It’s seconds before the hardest part, the one that you’re still not sure of. It’s the adrenaline rushing through your veins and the words ‘now or never’ echoing with each timed exhale.

“Because. How do I know that you won’t forget about me when summer comes?” Your words hit him like a punch to the gut, causing his lips to part and then heave for air. 

“I-I never forgot about you.”

“Yes you did!” There are tears prickling the back of your eyelids, which you quickly blink away before continuing, “I waited for you outside your house every day! And then, when you wouldn’t show up, I-I’d spend every day alone. Doing what we used to do together, but by myself! I was all by myself and I missed you so much, Jinnie. So, so much.” He’s going to tell you that you’re wrong. That while all of those things happened, he never ever forgot about you.

But then there’s that old nickname, the one reserved specifically for family and you. He hasn’t heard it in months, and when he finally does it’s rolling out of your mouth like a plea soaked in honey. Something that’s going to stick with him for forever.

“(Y/n,) please-” You’re up and out of the door before he can even finish.

*

It’s a dreary Friday morning, rain trickling down your window and painting your room a gray shade of blue. With a deep inhale you realize that everything is finally smelling like fall, which only solidifies the fact that you never want to get out of bed. Unfortunately you have a class in half an hour that you do kind of need to go to. 

But it’s not too terrible. Maybe if you were getting up to go take a math class, or run a marathon, but you aren’t. You’re getting up to go to ballet class, and you can wear your favorite leotard again (the light blue one, with pearls sewn around the collar,) and the rain outside is heavy enough to be calming but light enough that you can fend it off with an umbrella. The only thing that could make this morning any better is your favorite childhood breakfast, honey nut cheerios with strawberry milk.

Which is, oddly enough, sitting outside of your door when you open it to head off to the dining hall. A gallon sized jug of bright pink milk next to a family size box of your favorite cereal, just sitting in the middle of the hallway with a folded piece of paper resting precariously on top. Something about this has Hyunjin written all over it. You lean down to pick up the note, reading it about a thousand times over before rushing back into your room to wolf down the breakfast that you haven’t had in months.

‘(Y/n,)

I never forgot you.

Come to my room tonight after rehearsal. Please.

Sincerely, Hyunjin.’ 

When you two do the first full run through of the pas de deux that night he holds you extra tight. Maybe because he misses you. Maybe because he thinks that after tonight he’ll never have the chance to do so again.

But when he opens the door to his dorm room you see pink fluffy blankets folded on his bed. On top of them is a basket, filled to the brim with every last one of your favorite things. Strawberries dipped in chocolate like the ones your mother would make on hot summer nights, snickers bars like the ones that you two would share after days spent in your driveway, glass bottled lemonade like you would buy from the stand up the street.

“I may or may not have also bought your favorite movie. Well, if it’s still Barbie And the Twelve Dancing Princesses.” A giggle sounds through the room, bouncing around the walls and then back onto Hyunjins burning cheeks.

“It is, but don’t tell Jisung!” Rain starts to fall again, the soft pitter patter mixing perfectly with the boys soft laugh. His hand grazes briefly against the small of your back as he starts to guide you into the tight room, “I’m serious! Him and Lix will make fun of me!” The pout on your face is enough to melt anyone’s heart, which is why Hyunjin doesn’t even think twice when his knees go weak as jelly.

“My lips are sealed.” He says, walking over the boxy tv (that certainly wasn’t there last week) on his desk and inserting the disc, “Now sit back and enjoy.”

It’s not a hard request to fill, your tired body sinking immediately into the fluffy blankets and mouth watering each time you bite down on a strawberry. Rain continues to patter softly against the window, the sound occasionally being replaced by a loud roll of thunder which makes the boy next to you jump. You had laughed at the action, asking softly if he was scared. It was a rhetorical question, you know fully well that he’s always been scared of thunder.

“No! Yes, shut up.” And if you mind that the boy cuddles softly into your side, one arm wrapped around the curve of your waist while the other holds a chocolate strawberry, you don’t say so. 

The two of you stay tangled up in each other like that until the credits roll, Hyunjins breathy sigh hitting your cheek as he shifts to get up. You watch with heartfelt eyes as he crosses the dimly lit room, his black hair briefly sweeping across his eyes. You want to reach up and push it away, but right as you manage to sit up straight he’s done with it and headed back to the bed. With a short laugh you realize that your noses are touching.

“Hi.” The word comes at as a short exhale, leaving a taste on your tongue that’s sweeter than chocolate strawberries.

“Hey.” Your heart flutters at the sound, an exhale laced together with a smile, as his arms return to their previous spot around your waist. There’s probably nothing in the world brighter than the smile he wears for you. Stage lights, the sun, every last star in the sky rolled into one. None of it even comes close to the way that his pink lips stretch perfectly from cheek to cheek, “Do you finally believe me?” He brings up a hand to caress your cheek gently, as though to rub away tears that haven’t fallen.

“Believe wh-”

“Do you believe that I never forgot you? That I never forgot any of you, not even the little things like your favorite color or what you liked to eat for dinner. Maybe I pulled away, but I think it’s because even then I knew how badly losing you would hurt. I-I knew that I never wanted to lose you, which is just what I did...” He swallows harshly, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, “But I’ll never do it again. I’ll never lose you, and I’ll never forget you a-and... And I don’t want to remember you anymore, (Y/n.) I’m so done with remembering, let’s just be.” There’s something stuck in your throat, but it doesn’t hurt the way that tears do. No, this is a release gathering inside of you. One that’s waiting for you to finally give in.

“Hyunjin,” His fingers cradle the curve of your jaw, sending goosebumps down every inch of your body, “kiss me.” And that’s all the confirmation he needs to brush his lips over yours.

At first it’s gentle, almost questioning. Like he’s asking one last time ‘Is this okay?’ But then your hands tangle in his black hair, the way that they’ve been aching to since you first saw him, and he knows that you’re okay. More than okay, you’re in love. With every muscle in your body, you’re in love.

Hyunjin’s hand that was previously holding your face drops back down to your waist and pulls you in softly. They then travel down to your thighs, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips before he picks you up and guides you onto the bed. Every movement is so perfect yet raw, feeling like the stuff of ballets. Until your back hits an unopened glass bottle of lemonade, that is. The sudden cold is enough to make you jump.

“What?!” Hyunjin questions, eyes shooting as wide as saucers, “Did I hurt you?!” A laugh sounds through the room while your hand detaches from his hair, opting instead to reach around your body and remove the glass bottle that’s poking you in the least conventional way possible.

“No.” You answer through soft giggles, bringing up the bottle to lightly tap his forehead, “There’s just a lemonade poking me in the ass.”

He flushes bright pink before answering with a tiny ‘oh’ and burying his face into the crook of your neck. If you were less malleable you would’ve teased him even more, but then there are warm kisses on your skin and nothing in your head.

“I love you.” He whispers, head slowly moving until his lips are against your jaw. You’re going to answer, really, but then there are soft lips on your chin and a smile ripping through your body, “I love you.” 

“M-me too.” You stammer dumbly, body going entirely limp as he (finally) presses another kiss onto your lips. The boy pulls away entirely too soon, but it’s okay. There’s something that you need to finish saying, anyways, “I love you too, Jinnie.”

When you fall asleep that night it’s to the sound of pattering rain, with Hyunjins arms guarding you from the world. 

*

The bus back from regionals is quiet, the few sounds that do come about being Chan and Felix whispering softly or Minho giggling at Jisung snoring. You’re about there too, but who can blame you when Hyunjins hands are buried in your hair (which is both stiff and wavy from a combination of hairspray and braided buns.) If you close your eyes and focus really hard you can even feel the rise and fall of his chest where it’s connected with your back. 

“Who’s gonna keep our trophy?” The boy questions, lips moving softly against the shell of your ear. It generates a warm feeling in your gut, one that spreads quickly to your cheeks and ears.

“We’ll trade it off on the weekends. Like divorced soccer parents.” He giggles softly, moving forward to kiss your temple.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” If you were a little bit less tired, or a little bit less in love, then maybe you’d joke back. But you’re wrapped up in him like a ribbon on your waist, foot nudging against a plastic first place trophy while his lips move against you in a way that you could get drunk off of.

“Never.” You answer, hand coming up to wrap around his as if it were a vow, “Never.”

[according-to-the-laura]

StackedNatural Day 87: 8x10, 15x09

StackedNatural Masterpost: [x]

January 16, 2022

8x10: Torn and Frayed

Written by: Jenny Klein

Directed by: Robert Singer

Original air date: January 16, 2013

Plot Synopsis:

Dean and Castiel try to rescue Samandriel from Crowley. Sam tries to decide whether or not he should continue hunting or be with Amelia.

Features:

Samandriel is tortured by Crowley, angels can be lobotomized and limited, Cas’ hobbies include healing babies in parks, Angels are still weird eldritch beings, burning bushes, Destiel team up, Angel operating systems,

My Thoughts:

In everything except the Amelia plot line (as always, why wasn’t she some kind of siren or other creature? Why are all her flashback scenes so fuzzy if there wasn’t unreliable memory shit going on?) this episode kicks total ass. We have Destiel investigation team up, we have Naomi, we have the blood coming out of the eye, we have the actor playing Samandriel doing an amazing job, we have Crowley when the show still gave him a sense of style and intrigue, we have the angel tablet revelation, we have angels as celestial computers with code that can be hacked. It’s a gift of an episode.

I’m going to very quickly talk about the things I don’t like so I can talk about the things that I do like. This is the same for the entire season, but Sam’s heel turn on all monsters being evil makes absolutely no sense for his characterization up to this point. After all, he sees himself as a monster pretty often, and he tries to do the most good that he can. I wish there had been some big event right after Dean went into purgatory. If Sam had slipped, started drinking demon blood again, and saw himself as a monster, his insistence that something monstrous can’t be good would be a lot more effective than it is when he’s just been hanging out with a random lady all year. Also, Jared can’t act and neither can the actress playing Amelia.

The angel lobotomy plotline is one that is actually really well paced and seeded compared to plotlines like this in other seasons. Compared to leviathans, which were introduced and became the season big bad over the course of 2 episodes (being introduced at the end of one and becoming season big bads at the start of the next), Naomi is introduced 3 episodes before it becomes clear the extent to which she is going to influence the rest of the season. We learn that angels can basically be hacked into revealing the secrets of their creation through someone else before it’s revealed that this has happened to Cas at least once before. And the cuts back and forth between her room and Earth are so smooth and fit together really well. Also, I love the halo imagery with Samandriel’s lobotomy. Very visually satisfying.

Season 8 was AMAZING for extremely effective queerbait. I always wonder what would have happened after/during Goodbye Stranger if it had actually been the last season.

Notable Lines:

“That’s his serious face, yes.”

“Hey, what do you say, this doesn't pan out, we head back to that beer-and-bacon happy hour about a mile back, huh?”

“I can't enjoy a world I need to save, Dean.”

“Listen to me closely. I've been there. I know! They're controlling us, Castiel!”

Laura’s (completely subjective) Episode Rating: 9.0

IMdB Rating: 8.2

15x09: The Trap

Written by: Robert Berens

Directed by: Robert Singer

Original air date: January 16, 2020

Plot Synopsis:

Sam and Eileen are faced with the brutal truth. Meanwhile Dean and Cass work together in the hopes of getting a step ahead of Chuck.

Features:

Captive in a casino, purgatory and leviathan blossoms, visions of the future, the peak of divorce arc, the drafts are memories, Sam loses hope, Jack is BACK baby.

My Thoughts:

The scenes with Sam and Eileen hit so much harder than the scenes with Sam and Amelia that it’s actually a little embarrassing. This is how you write a romantic subplot! She has to have some substance to matter to him!

That being said, I wish the scalpel scenes were gorier. Sam saying he’s going to bleed out while he’s got, like 3 tablespoons of blood on his shirt doesn’t really work.

When I first got back into Supernatural I thought people were exaggerating when they called it a divorce arc but these lines are so based around romantic relationships in North American media. “I left but you didn’t stop me”? Come on. And then it’s compounded by Sam seeing Chuck’s future. Dean’s turning point from caring about the world is explicitly him having to bury Cas in a Ma'lak box because of the mark, which is then compared to Sam losing Eileen. The parallels can’t really get any clearer than that.

An interesting thing about the future visions is that they have the same lens flares on lights that heaven had in Dark Side of the Moon in season 5. Not sure exactly how to parse that but I’m sure someone has a very compelling theory that I’d love to read.

The purgatory prayer gets me as hard if not harder than the confession. I don’t think I’ll be saying anything that hasn’t already been said, but he closes his eyes and makes himself vulnerable in a world where literally everything wants to kill him so that he can pray to Cas and apologize, because that is the number one priority for him in this moment. I like to think that he got down on his knees because he thinks that this will be the last time that he ever prays and he’s going to do it right. And then he doesn’t even go down on both knees, he goes on one like it’s a proposal. Insane acting choice from thee vessel Jensen Ackles. And then another insane choice to look disappointed when Cas stops him from saying whatever he was going to say before they go through the portal. Because if he was going to apologize again, he already knows that Cas heard it, you’d think he would be relieved. He was going to say something new.

There’s also something super romantic about Cas barely getting away from these eldritch horrors that are chasing him, and sitting down and waiting for Dean instead of going through the portal and waiting for him in safety.

Thank you Robert Berens for my life.

Notable Lines:

“It’s not my first time on the rack.”

“You still think you’re the hero of this story. You still think you can win.”

“You didn't give me a choice. You couldn't forgive me. And you couldn't move on. You were too angry. I left, but you didn't stop me.”

“Ever since what? We lost pretty much everyone we've ever cared about? Ever since the Mark made Cas go crazy? Ever since I had to bury him in a Ma'lak box? Ever since then? Yeah.”

“Cas, I hope you can hear me... that wherever you are, it's not too late. I should've stopped you. You're my best friend, but I just let you go. 'Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong. I don't know why I get so angry. I just know – I know that it's – it's just always been there. And when things go bad, it just – it comes out. And I can't -- I can't stop it. No matter how – how bad I want to, I just can't stop it. And – And I – I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. I'm sorry it took me so long – I'm sorry it took me till now to say it. Cas, I'm – I'm so sorry. Man, I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me.”

“Okay, Cas, I need to say something.” “You don't have to say it. I heard your prayer.”

Laura’s (completely subjective) Episode Rating: 9.9 (because the vampire fangs are egregious)

IMdB Rating: 8.6

In Conclusion: Two Singer episodes in a row, play a drinking game where you drink every time you see a weird zoom.

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[takingcourage]

Kismet

Pairing: f!Hayden x m!MC (Tate)

Word Count: 2,825

Summary: A weekend getaway gives Hayden and Tate the perfect excuse to enjoy some time together and to think about their future. 

Note: This is one of those stories that’s been collecting dust in my drafts for ages. I could never get the ending quite right, so I kind of forgot it existed until I started seeing posts about this appreciation week and decided to finish it. The end result certainly doesn’t do Hayden justice, but I wanted to do what I could to recognize one of my favorite Choices characters. I’m still a little bitter that we never got to see Hayden’s continued growth in a third book. : / 

Anyway...

Thanks so much to @haydenyoungappreciationweek​ and @lizzybeth1986​ for organizing this event and giving me an excuse to finally finish this story.  

Tate stood outside Hayden’s front door, scratching the line of one thick eyebrow as he waited for the telltale rush of footsteps on the other side of the wood. His lips slanted into a smirk at the sound of his girlfriend’s bare feet coming down the hallway. As usual, she was running. Seconds later, the door flew open wide to reveal Hayden, breathless and giddy.

“Are you ready for the best weekend ever, Tate Park?”

Following her into the apartment, his mouth kinked up at her eager greeting. “I am, but it doesn’t look like you are…” he replied, surveying the piles of clothes strewn about her living room.

Hayden snagged a dirty mug from the coffee table, glancing over her shoulder as she carried it to the kitchen. “Really thought you’d be used to my messes by now.”

Her duffle bag sat open on the floor, empty save for a pair of tennis shoes at the bottom. Shaking his head, Tate sauntered over to the side chair and began folding the towels that were heaped into the seat. From the other room, he heard Hayden pull out the dishwasher tray. Based on the sounds that emerged from the kitchen, it seemed the mug was not the only dish making a tardy entrance into the machine.

“I’m just wondering how we’re going to have the best weekend ever if you haven’t even packed yet. And I never remember things being this cluttered when you lived with Sloane.”

“You never saw my bedroom.” Hayden reappeared in the doorway and threw him a suggestive wink. “Besides, I’m much cleaner when I’m living with another person.”

“Careful...l might hold you to that someday.” He caught her waist as she passed by and pressed a sound kiss to her lips. For a brief moment, she melted against him, and he savored the scent of warm vanilla against her skin. So much had changed since their first meeting more than a year ago, but at least one thing remained the same: her kisses still had the power to make his knees turn to rubber. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” she rejoined, eyes flashing with sincerity before the customary glint of mischief returned. “Even though you’re a neat freak.”

“I’m not a neat freak. I just prefer to use my furniture for its intended purpose.”

“Couches are overrated.”

“Ouch. I’ve clearly been slacking if you think that’s the case. Are you sure you don’t want to skip the getaway for a movie marathon? There’d be lots of blankets and snacks. And hours of snuggling…” His skin tingled a bit at the thought.

“We can watch movies in Cedar Rest.”

“If we ever get there…” the words were mumbled under his breath, but nothing escaped her hearing. He dodged the rolled-up pair of socks she threw in retaliation, then dropped them into the open duffle bag at his feet. If this was her method of packing, it was going to be a long night indeed.

“I just have to be there to check in with the organizers before the festival starts tomorrow morning. And I should be ready to go in the next ten minutes or so, which gives us plenty of time to get dinner and then go explore the town for a while.”

“Or time to chill at the bed and breakfast,” he offered, arranging the now-folded towels in a neat stack.

“Long day at work?”

“No, I’m just not convinced that we’re going to get out of here in the next ten minutes. And I think you’re forgetting that we have a ninety-minute drive ahead of us… after we’ve made it out of the city.”

“Oh, hush.” She shoved a pair of pajama pants into her duffle bag in protest, and Tate had to turn his face to hide a smirk.  

“Take your time,” he offered casually, lifting the precarious pile of towels from the chair. “I wasn’t in the mood for dinner tonight anyway…”

Tate had already rounded the corner to the bathroom by the time she called out after him, “You love me!”

He did. So very much. He could hardly remember the days before she’d come into his life, although he’d known her less than two years. And as he transferred the stack of washcloths from his arms to the cabinet shelf, he found himself wishing that he was putting away their towels in their bathroom. He’d caught himself having similar thoughts too many times over the past months.

Tate fully supported her decision to live alone, but in such moments, his resolve wavered. Recently, he’d missed seeing her every day -- missed those quiet, intimate moments they had shared during the many weeks they spent on the run. Staying over for weekends just wasn’t the same. He wanted all of life to be with her.

Much as her methods might frustrate him, he wanted to pack a single suitcase, together. They’d pull their favorite items out of the closet, comparing piles as they arranged them on the bed. Tate would check the forecast and watch Hayden cram everything from a bathing suit to her winter coat into the allotted space. She’d curl her nose at his planning and make quips about the unreliability of weather reports. 

Somehow, it was his idea of bliss.

But for now, he would continue to be patient. There was nothing to be gained by rushing her. He’d never ask her to do anything she wasn’t ready for, though he would be lying if he said he wasn’t ready to put all separation behind them. The engagement rings in his browsing history were a sign of just how ready.

When he returned to the living room, Hayden was tugging at the zipper on her duffle, all traces of clothing having disappeared from the couch cushions. She dropped the finished bag beside the door, wheeling toward him with a distinct sparkle in her eyes. “Shall we go?”

Tate shook his head at her bemused expression. “We may have time for dinner after all.” Hoisting the strap of her bag over his shoulder, he wove his fingers through hers and flashed her a cheesy grin. “Time for the best weekend ever!”

The last thing he saw before she flipped off the lights was Hayden shaking her head at him, eyes narrowed at his affected tone. He squeezed her hand as they made their way out into the hall.

______

“Dipper would have loved today. It’s a shame she’s with Sloane this weekend.”

Tate mumbled his agreement around the key card between his teeth. Behind him, Hayden turned on a lamp and continued talking. “It’s my penance for missing two Stir-Fridays in a row. I couldn’t have her living alone all weekend, especially with Khann out of the country for the month.”

He unburdened himself, setting the bags of food on the small table. Hayden placed her bottle beside them before rummaging to find the cups from their place beside the sink. “I’m sure she appreciates it.”

“She deserved to have her for a while. This joint-custody has hardly been a fair exchange with all the traveling she’s been doing with the AIC.” Hayden broke the seal on the wine, pouring generous servings into the hotel glasses. “We should find her a dog of her own someday. Dipper’s bound to get spoiled if we keep this system up.”

“She is your dog, after all.” He took the drink from her outstretched hand and drew a sip of the dark liquid. “And think of the playdates Dipper could have with a new dog. They’d have a great time.”

Hayden beamed at him as her quick fingers yanked an inscrutable object from one of the food cartons. Their dinner was a haphazard assortment of festival food, and most of it was cold. After a long day of socializing under the autumn sun, they’d both decided that a hotel-room dinner was in the cards. Luckily, between all of the food stands, they’d had a considerable selection to choose from, and Hayden had wanted to try it all. 

“I’m starving.”

Tate raised an inquisitive brow at her complaint. He rummaged through the packaging to find the burger he’d ordered.

“I know I had a massive lunch, but these jobs take it out of me.”

“I can see why.”

Tate reflected on the day, unable to control his smile at the memory of how much fun it had been to watch her work. Steve had been the point of contact for this job, it was true, but there was no doubt in Tate’s mind why the event organizers had chosen Hayden to document the day. The Equinox Festival had been a vibrant, colorful affair that was almost enough to make Tate miss the mundane bustle of New York City streets. But Hayden was completely at home.

Tate never stopped marveling at how good Hayden was at engaging people and bringing out their best features in her photography. He’d always thought of himself as an extrovert, but she gave new meaning to the word. Children, especially, had been drawn to her at today’s event, and he knew without even looking at the camera that the images she’d captured would be stunning. There was something in those candid moments that mesmerized her, and that fascination translated into her photography.

“You okay there?”

Tate raised his lukewarm sandwich in acknowledgment. “Yep, just thinking.” He watched as she withdrew a kebab from yet another container of food. “Do you want to take a look at today’s shots after we finish eating? I’m excited to see what you got.”

“Me too. I think the new tourism website is going to turn out great.”

“I’m sure it will.”

Once they had finished eating, Hayden transferred the images to her computer while Tate cleared the table. His task complete, Tate joined her on the couch, startled by a sudden change to her appearance.

“You started wearing glasses?” The question came out a bit more incredulous than he’d intended, but the sight was jarring.

“Not all the time -- obviously. Usually just when I’m working on my computer.”

“Your vision is better than 20/20, Hayden.”

“And I want to make sure it stays that way,” she insisted saucily, tapping the hard plastic frame at her temple. “These are supposed to protect my eyes from blue light.”

"Your eyes are....nevermind..." he mumbled, stretching his fingers to brush a strand of hair from her forehead. He narrowed his eyes and looked closer. "They look great."

“They’re supposed to make me look more competent and less threatening.”

Tate’s brows knit in confusion. “Is that something you’ve been worried about?” While he knew she was capable of incredible feats of strength, it would be absurd for the average observer to be frightened based on appearances.

“You never know. Harley looks pretty threatening when she wants to be.”

He had to admit that much was true. “But none of your clients have said anything about you being threatening or incompetent, have they?” The question prickled the skin at his neck;  the thought of anyone questioning her made his blood boil. 

“Of course not!” she brushed it off as though the thought were ridiculous. At his skeptical look, she added, “I promise. No one has said anything -- I’m just testing them out.” Her dark eyes looked even larger from behind the clear frames, and Tate smiled in the rush of affection that flooded over him. The underlying fondness was always there, but in these moments, he was struck by just how proud he was of her. With a sight pang, he also realized how much he missed being there to witness these little steps in her process of self-discovery.

“If you’re sure,” he answered, pushing the feeling aside. “Let’s look at what you’ve got.”

Computer in hand, Hayden moved to his lap and stretched her legs along the length of the couch. “Can you see?” She asked, sweeping her hair over one shoulder as she settled back against him.

“Uh-huh.” His eyes flicked down to the screen before settling again on her profile. The glasses were quite an attractive addition…

“This girl had the best fashion sense. I don’t understand how she put all of that together, but look! It’s perfect.”

He nodded, trying to concentrate on the picture instead of Hayden's warm, familiar scent. “I like the socks,” he murmured against the silky hair at his cheek.

“Me too! Maybe I’ll try to find some like that next time I’m out shopping. I bet Nadia would like them too.” 

Tate hummed in assent, watching contentedly as she flicked through the pictures and offered observations on each one. As expected, the images were a perfect representation of the day’s events. For the next hour, they chattered over their favorites and relived memories.

"...And that's the last one,” she announced, lifting her finger from the trackpad. “I'll start editing them when we get back tomorrow."

"And in the meantime?"

"I’m going to enjoy the rest of my weekend with you.” She closed the lid on her laptop before moving it to the coffee table. Stretching a hand behind her, she wound deft fingers into the hair at the base of his neck. "Maybe we should sleep here tonight -- I'm pretty comfortable."

“On the couch? Aren’t they overrated?”

“Mmmmm,” she considered. “No.”

He kissed the exposed shell of her ear. 

“Well,” she waffled, shifting in his arms so that she could see his face. “The one at my house is still overrated -- at least, most of the time. I don’t need it all to myself.”

“I guess that’s just one of the downfalls of living alone.” He tried to play the exchange off casually, but his heart sank at the reminder that they would be parting ways once they reached home the next afternoon.

She grew uncharacteristically still, one nail digging slightly into the outer seam of her pants. “I think that’s something I had to learn for myself,” she told him finally, the hesitance in her tone catching him off guard. 

Was she nervous? He thought back over the strange response, pulse accelerating at the possibilities. “What do you mean?” 

“That I don’t like living alone as much as I’d like living with you.”

His breath halted, and he couldn’t quite suppress the hope that was bubbling up inside of him. For the space of several anxious heartbeats, he held his tongue, afraid that breaking the silence would cut the opportunity short.  

“Didn’t you say you wanted to move in together?” Her voice was soft. Behind the glasses, he saw a flash of trepidation.

“Of course I do. But are you sure? You’ve been discovering so much on your own. I don’t want to hold you back.”

Swinging her legs off the edge of the couch, Hayden turned to sit sideways on his lap. Tate bristled with pleasure as one cool hand landed on the nape of his neck. “It’s been good for me -- don’t get me wrong. But while I still don’t know everything, there are a lot of things I’m sure of. One of them is that I’d rather be living with you. ” Her nose wrinkled as she met his gaze and removed her glasses. “You’re my kismet, remember? We were always destined to be together. Together together, Tate. Living together.” 

“I get the picture.” Taking the dangling glasses from her fingers, he carefully placed them on the coffee table.

“I’m pretty sure I get the pictures. We just finished looking at them, remember?” 

Tate groaned and pulled her tight against him, relishing in the small sigh of contentment that fell from her lips when she was secure in his arms. 

“Think you can handle me and my flawless sense of humor all the time?” 

“Your humor, your sincerity -- on the rare occasions when it makes an appearance -- your messes...” His lips curved into what was shaping up to become a permanent smile. Even the thought of sacrificing his spotless apartment couldn’t dampen his mood. 

“My massages?”

He laughed as her grip on his neck tightened. “Your massages -- I want to be there as often as you’ll let me.” 

“Then you’ll be there a lot. I hope you’re ready for it.” 

“I’d consider it a privilege,” he told her truthfully, combing his fingers through the pile of hair at his shoulder. Lulled by the repetitive motion, the events of the day started to catch up with both of them.

“Tate?” 

His eyelids parted in time to see her lift her face off his chest. Her eyes had grown a little tired, but they were steady and true. Soon, they’d be the first sight to greet him every morning. He could have pinched himself over the realization. “Hmm?” 

“Told you this was going to be the best weekend ever.” 

[flyingcatstiel]

Cap - Iron Man Rec Week 2020, What If Wednesday

What-If Wednesday, June 17th: Time to rec some AUs! Canon divergence, no-power alternate universes, soulmates… Stony fic recs for @cap-ironman community <3

A Gentleman's Guide to Centaurs by BladeoftheNebula [M, 24,799 word count],  Regency AU, centaur!steve, omega Tony, a/b/o

All of Marvyl is a-twitter when Captain Rogers comes to town and takes up residence at Brooklyn Hall. A single alpha in possession of a large fortune is an interesting prospect for any unmarried omega - especially when he has hooves.

Wonderfully written story that combines Marvel canon with a  posh Regency style prose. Such a delight to read and learn more about those lovely centaurs. 

Give Me a Sign (of Your Love) by Eudoxia [NR, 13,113 word count] Soulmate AU, mute!tony, secret identity

Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

So many mute Tony feels, so many. But it does get better. 

Half Agony, Half Hope by Annie D (scaramouche) [T, 37 917 word count]  J.Austen’s Persuasion fusion, reunion, pre serum Steve in flashbacks

Following the Battle of New York, the Avengers Initiative kicks into high gear under the leadership of Steve Rogers, i.e. Captain America. Tony didn’t mean to become part of this initiative, but it makes sense to sign on due to his experience with SHIELD and Rhodey’s War Machine suits.The upside: Tony’s tech can be used in a widespread and meaningful way to help protect people. The downside: the last time Tony saw Steve, he’d rejected Steve’s proposal of marriage and broke his heart, leading to almost ten years of the two having no contact whatsoever. Until now.

What happens when you have two people who, even after a devastating break up, still think the world of each other yet believe that the other one has moved on? This fic, this fic happens. I really love Tony’s voice here. The unreliable narrator of unbearable lightness of being he is. Make no mistake, this fic is angsty af, and my Tony feels were tested to the limit. But also, this is a long coming reunion of two wandering souls. 

Heart in Hand by janonny [T, 35,795 word count] a/b/o

Steve had been thinking — that was all he was doing, thinking, not moping, as Bucky described it — about the best way to make his feelings clear to Tony. He wanted it to be perfect. He needed it to be the best demonstration of sincere interest that Tony had ever received. Bucky called it procrastinating, but Steve called it strategizing. And this Courting Ceremony? It was perfect. Now he just needed to figure out what to get Tony as a Courting gift. And what to wear. And what to say. And what to do. Or the story where Tony, an Omega, holds a much belated Courting Ceremony. Steve joins up and loses his mind a little.

A lighter take on post Infinity War canon, emotionally very very satisfying. The Courting Ceremony itself is very engaging but Steve’s gifts will seal the deal.

Not Trying to Make Headlines by RurouniHime [M, 13,717 word count] pre serum Steve, secret identity, artist, social activist Steve

It's just an art show. No big deal if the rich and totally-out-of-his-league guy Steve slept with once a year ago shows up or not. Really.

Lately, there has been a serious uptick in pre serum Steve fics, but this one still remains my favorite. Steve has such a fire and conviction of doing the right thing here, that in the end it is enough to save Tony Stark  from his demons. 

Restless Gravity by AvengersNewB [M, 10,248 word count] Space AU, arranged marriage, warlord!Steve

Omega Tony Stark gets bonded to Deathlok, the space warlord, to get his people a new home after the destruction of their planet. Warlord - Arranged marriage AU, with a bit of a twist.

A bit of a mystery, a bit of secret identity and a whole lot of older Tony reflecting on his past and doing what needs to be done in present. A slowly simmering story about a belated reunion. 

To Cross The Red Line by vorkosigan [T, 45,500 word count, WIP] Space AU, Battlestar Galactica fusion

In the heat of battle, a small flotilla jumped away to an unknown sector of space to avoid destruction. They don't know where they are or how to get home. They don't even know if there is a home to get back to. The surviving ships are a ragtag band of soldiers and civilians and civilians that became soldiers out of need. The trouble is, most of the fighter pilots are dead or wounded. Captain Rogers has to train a batch of newly drafted cadets and turn them into decent pilots in no time. And his star pupil is Tony Stark - a famous industrialist and billionaire in his old life. Steve's problem is, Stark is insufferable.

The push and pull between Steve and Tony in this fic is just so so delicious. Tony’s mind games and Steve’s unwavering believe in doing the right thing, falling in love and not believing it. I devoured all fic in one go, it was hard to put it down. Right now, the fic is still a WIP, but I can assure you that it ends at a very satisfying place that could be considered a happy ending in itself. But of course I’d love to read another 40k of Steve and Tony’s relationship.

I also have a stony fic rec tag with more stony recs, my other  Cap-IM rec posts are here.

[katierosefun]

dont feel bad about blabbing about your book it sounds interesting~ can we hear more if you wanna share?

aaaaaaaaaah, thank you anon!!! that means a lot, because i often feel a little self-conscious about talking about writing that,,,isn’t fic. but anyways, here’s a read more tab because just in case anyone’s not the biggest fan of reading about original stuff: 

so i’ve mentioned it a few times before, but this story is mostly about a girl who’s lost her memories of her parents. there’s been a few tweaks and turns here and there to the plotline (on my fourth draft...meaning the story is wildly different from what it started out as). anyways, she’s trying to find a way to get her memories back, but that’s kinda difficult when she’s also been framed for a murder she didn’t think she committed (again, gaps in memory makes for an unreliable witness/narrator, right?). just when she thinks she’s about to be sent off to prison/get the death sentence, someone comes along to help her clear her name. little does our protagonist know that this is actually someone who’s kind of like a family member from her forgotten past. 

um, that was all very disorganized, but that’s the gist of it. again, the storyline’s been tweaked a few times, because i really wanted this story to be accessible to everyone--it has its darker and grittier moments, but it’s also got a lot of softer and sweeter moments, esp. when we get into some of the other characters! 

basically, this story has a lot of found family things: 

there’s andrea (who’s the protagonist. her aesthetic is very much black turtlenecks + boyfriend jeans. she decides to steal a sandwich just to spite the owner of the convenience store she works in, and that’s why she thinks she’s being arrested at first. looks mean but is actually a really big softie inside who just kinda wants a hug.)

there’s galen (person from the past. his aesthetic is very much knitted scarves (that andrea’s actual parents gave him as a gift when he was like,,,16 :’)))) + cardigans. he has an ability to heal everyone except himself. literally. he can mend broken bones, bruises, all those ugly things, but he can never do it for himself because superpower logic. is a really big softie both inside and out. he met andrea when she was 8 and he was 16 at a talk andrea’s parents (professors on the origin of this kind of...superhero society for lack of better word that galen’s a part of).) 

** actually, andrea and galen are my favorite because like...there’s a kind of sad story between them, but they’re wonderful. andrea, of course, doesn’t remember him, despite the fact that they’ve shared five years together. (because...more sad things.) 

there’s hina (sunshine child. her aesthetic is very much long skirts + lots and lots of necklaces. she has the ability to just. look into other people’s heads, but this isn’t an ability she’s able to control, not really. she’s shut up in the society’s library as a result, because that seems to be the only place she can actually go about her day without being bombarded by everyone’s thoughts. she longs to one day actually step outside the walls of her home, but right now, she explores through books and stories from people who bother talking to her. i love her a lot because she’s the classic trope character of powerful and kind.) 

** i really love andrea and hina’s dynamic too. they’re definitely just...oh the grumpy one is soft for the sunshine one. there’s this one h/c incident (because....in true caroline fashion, h/c abounds) where hina helps andrea up after this not-so-good fight, and andrea (who’s like,,,half out of it), mumbles “why are you being nice i just hurt your feelings :’((” and hina’s just like “we’ll talk about this later but right now just let me help you okay” (they’re so soft. they’re so soft you guys. andrea gives up her bed for hina at one point. they’re soft.)

there’s tori (certified wine aunt/mom friend. her aesthetic is just the ever-professional suit and tie. everyone sees her wear overalls one (1) time and loses their minds because tori wears informal clothes sometimes what-- she has the ability to...take away memories, so y’all can put two-and-two together. is hypercompotent and carries a lot of guilt around with her for what she had to do. also winds up being a mentor figure because we need more female mentor figures!!!) 

** i really love tori’s dynamic with everyone, i think? with andrea, she def. has this big-sister-to-slightly-younger sister banter going. (you know, the one where the younger sibling greets older sibling with “nerd” and the older sibling greets the younger sibling with “dork”. andrea grudgingly respects tori, and tori went from “andrea :((” to “andrea >:(” real quick because andrea is a little shit who loves making tori’s life difficult. but the two love each other a lot deep down. with hina, tori’s a lot softer (adsfsdf everyone’s soft with hina because hina’s. again. sunshine child). and with galen,,,let me just say that there’s a lot of complicated feelings with galen but like i’m just gonna say. lots of mutual pining and “hey i would love to actually have a romantic relationship with you but like right now both of us are kinda stuck saving the world and also your eyes are nice okay bye” 

(that being said, romance kinda takes a backburner in all these relationships. i guess if there is romance, it’s all very...subtle and also very open-ended in the end of the duology, because really, i want people to realize that it’s more about the platonic love in these stories than it is the romantic. not saying romantic is any less important than platonic, but i’d like to showcase platonic love a little more. if it makes anyone feel better, i truly do think that andrea wakes up every morning next to hina feeling like the luckiest gal in the world, and tori and galen do wind up getting that romantic walk together and maybe holding hands and being absolute blushing dorks about it.) 

(but really, i plan to end this series with. just the four of them. sitting on the roof of a car. stargazing. hina’s so excited to be...outside for once, and little does she know that andrea’s actually planning a cross-country roadtrip for them. tori passes everyone popcorn. andrea plays with galen’s scarf. hina winds up babbling about all these stories she’s read about aliens and stuff and whoa guys the world’s so big, and we’re so small, and and and--) 

(it ends with the four of them laughing. andrea thinks, “this is my family.”)

[ajbrooks-writes]

WIP Re-Intro: For The Crown

Book One of the Blood Ties trilogy

Heyo! Exactly what it says on the tin. A new and improved For The Crown with special edition features and up-to-date info! Also now with an official trilogy title: Blood Ties. Incredibly accurate.

Book One: For The Crown

Two young shapeshifters uncover generations of blood crimes as they attempt to change their own destiny. Masquerading amidst power plays and fickle allys, the prince and the pretender learn the meaning of family in a tale of love, loss, and the cost of challenging the stars.

Elthian and Ryvaeryn are from very different worlds, tied together by a bloody past. They are each given a single chance to attain their goals, but to do so must navigate a court full of lies, a country full of secrets, and a foe determined to keep both in the past.

Basics

Stage: Complete Structural Overhaul Review

Estimated Length: 135k

Genre: New Adult high fantasy

Themes: found family, adventure, self-discovery, romance, challenging status quo, challenging destiny.

More info

Orphaned as an infant and raised by humans on the continent, Ryn has never known another shapeshifter. A bookbinder by trade, she masquerades as a scholar and runs to the island country of Mantha, where she meets our team, and her resolve is tested when she is discovered and has a choice: go home to safety or join the court and risk it all.

Growing up in the castle with his father, brother and best friend, Elthian has known he would be king since he was a child. A planner by passion, Elthian’s progressive ideas clash with his father’s traditional values, placing them increasingly at odds. When his father threatens to change his successor, Elthian must choose between sacrificing the crown for his values and work, or sacrificing his values for the crown and power.

Ryvaeryn and Elthian’s journeys intertwine as they work towards their goals. Among the trials of their individual paths, they realise their growing friendship might be more than that. Now they must weigh their loyalties and, when discovered, understand that one false step could tear them apart forever.

Read on to learn about some of the characters and the next two books! Also cool graphics.

Welcome to part two!

Characters

Protagonist. Age 29, lion shapeshifter. Idealistic, compassionate, creative, naive. Elthian has a rocky past, but has landed on his feet with a father he idolises, an older half-brother he loves unconditionally, and a best friend he could not do without. His brother’s protection has left him naive to their father’s nature, but kept him from losing that idealism and compassion their father is so blatantly missing. Elthian’s biggest struggle is his own self-doubt, but his brother’s line “There are some things in this world you just can’t change.” kickstarts his determination to do exactly that. I love my son, but not make it easy.

Protagonist. Age 26, tiger shapeshifter. Impulsive, defensive, determined, kind. Safe in seclusion with her long term girlfriend, Ryn gives it up to journey to Mantha and find others like her. She is quick to defend herself and slow to reason, and so desperately wants to know who she is and where she came from that she will risk everything to find answers. This is made difficult when she becomes to target of assassination. See her right eye pictures above? That may or may not emerge intact . I love her, and I forge her fortitude in fire.

Secondary. Age 30, wolf shapeshifter. Quiet, perceptive, loyal. Joal spent half his childhood as a crown ward, becoming Elthian’s best and most loyal friend. His official role is Royal Historian and Heritage Law Consultant, and he lives at the castle. He is the first to realise Ryn isn’t a scholar. Joal isn’t ‘in touch’ with his emotions, which quickly creates a rift between him and Ryn. Joal has the largest role in Blood Ties after Ryn and Elthian.

Secondary. Age 32, human. Optimistic, intuitive, honourable. Kalen is the ultimate best friend. He is a great hugger, great listener, and gentle soul. He left the army  to pursue music, specifically the flute. Kalen is aro-ace, and his and Skye’s QPR is the most precious and pure dynamic I have ever seen. He becomes close friends with Ryn, we call him K, and I would die for him.

Tertiary. Age 35, lion shapeshifter. Discerning, protective, adventurous. Orrian paints himself as rebellious and unreliable, allowing him to pursue his interests in peace, and as a bonus giving his father frequent headaches. Orrian runs a shelter for homeless or orphaned boys and young men, mostly shapeshifters, and basically has a dozen adopted sons. He is also investigating his father, whom he loathes. Orrian has a much larger role in the next two books.

Tertiary. Age 21, crane shapeshifter. Shy, observant, attentive. Skye is very close with Kalen, and Ryn first meets her in a courtyard where Skye is playing violin. She struggles with anxiety and  PTSD, and attempts to create a support network in this book, which unfortunately backfires. Skye’s role will change a lot over the trilogy as she develops and grows and discovers her strength.

Tertiary. Age 24. human. Sarcastic, charming, realist. Corri meets Ryn early in town, and they become friends quickly. She loves to have a good time, and encourages Ryn to do the same. If the cellars are stocked, right? Corri has a brief, secret fling with Joal in this book. She also frequently makes time to spend with the children at the castle - much better company than nobles.

Tertiary. Age 64, lion shapeshifter. Assertive, determined, commanding. Parthian rules with iron, currently with his third wife. He pushed Orrian to abdicate, and has spent the last decades grooming Elthian to be a more worthy successor. Parthian is struggling under the weight of (subjectively) poor past choices. His sons take more from him than they’d like.

Side. Age 34, human. Calming, authentic, passionate. Lowe and Ryn were together for three years, and lived together for most of that. She knows Ryn’s aspirations, fears and hopes and supports her move to Mantha. Lowe will have a larger role in the next two books, but will crop up a few times in this one, too.

Side. Age 9, shapeshifter. Shy, curious, adventurous. Pab is an orphan, and has lived at the castle her entire life. She is friends with Corri, and becomes a loyal friend of Ryn’s after a vandalism mishap. Pab will climb literally anything. She scales two storeys of old stone to break into Ryn’s room. Ryn and Pab’s bond strengthens over the trilogy, and we learn more about her family later on.

--

The World:

For The Crown takes place primarily in Mantha, an island country about the size of France. It has several smaller ilsands scattered around it., and across a strait is a mainland spanning an area close to that of Russia, which is where Ryn is from. Skye and Joal are from the North and South islands around Mantha respectively..During this book, the court travels around the country to various estates, under the guise of a ‘royal tour’, in which Parthian speaks to the leaders and the people and try to assure them that the monarchy has their best interest’s at heart. It gives Elthian the opportunity to find the progressive among them, and Ryn the opprtunity to explore different libraries and estates, including a ruined city, searching for answers.

Mantha is a feudal society originally settled by shapeshifters, which Parthian encourages, because they are easier to control. The continent, all humans, is meanwhile approaching an early industrial age; they have a direct democracy, with all the people having a voice. Mantha works with alchemy, whereas the continent works with technology. They have minimal overlap, but for trade and transport, things like air travel crosses their cultures.

This means I can have steampunk airships flying over my feudal farmland. The dream.

If you would like to know anything else about their culture, feel free to shoot an ask my way!

Rest of the trilogy:

For The King

After the bittersweet end to For The Crown, Ryn and Elthian try to recover the trust of the Manthan people as Elthian begins a shaky rule. But when the new king is kidnapped, it’s up to Ryn, Orrian, Kalen and Joal to race across the continent to save him, finding help from old friends along the way. Meanwhile, in a deep underground prison, Elthian meets new allies and foes as his captors attempt to break him, and he plans a daring escape or three. For The King is significantly darker, and ready to be drafted. You can read this wip intro here.

For The Country

Following a narrow escape, Ryn, Elthian, their new allies and remaining friends journey back to Mantha only to discover it has been overrun! With Elthian’s confidence shattered and Ryn struggling to stay afloat, For The Country has them and their team racing to rally their people against an approaching enemy while they battle fire, uprising, discord and disease. In the conclusion of this epic fantasy, everyone comes together for the battle that will decide Mantha’s future.

Final comments:

Can’t believe I managed, finally, to finish this intro.

I’m going to try and participate more in wip and OC related things, and post more about my story when life allows. I hope you enjoyed it, congrats on getting to the end, and have a great day!

--

For The Crown tag list:

 @trigwrites @jessicacaseyauthor @mfackenthal @mushwrites @b-works-074  @gardeningourmet @apocalyvse @jcckwrites @writingisdivinetorture  @purpleshadows1989 @thatwritergirlsblog @betwixtofficial @pen-in-hand @whynotwriting @bookish-actor @sunlight-and-starskies @jcckwrites @half-explored @watermelons-writings @purpleshadows1989 @crazycoffeemermaid​ @summerflowers

Blood Ties taglist:

@whisperswritings @stand-inthe-rain @fantasy-shadows @halrose @romanticatheart-posts @hopefulmoonobject @angelolytle @albarnesauthor @fantasy-penman @ofinscriptions @jynecca @venomouspen @k-nazario​ @raenawrites @s-n-o-w-p-i-e-r-c-e-r​ @the-starlight-chills​ @crazycoffeemermaid​ @ardawyn​ @bookish-actor​ @waterfallofinkandpages​ @the-writister​ @thewriteblrarchives​

(if you would like to be added or removed from the Blood Ties tag list, please let me know. Also if I’ve missed anyone I’m really sorry, could you let me know please thank youx)

[mittensmorgul]

I've just read through your previous ask about a yellow bathroom from S13 and some older color meta posts, but I'm wondering if you had any thoughts on the use of yellow specifically thus far in S15. You noted, "Which brings us to yellow (and also yellow and blue together, which have always been a warning sign on Supernatural… she says as she’s watching 9.01 and looking at Hael wearing a sulfur-yellow sweater over a dark blue dress. Those are the colors of Heaven and irresistible duty)." Con't..

So far what’s jumped out at me is Amara’s yellow pant suit, the girl tonight (avoiding spoilers bc timezones) wearing a yellow beret and tie-thing, and most glaringly, Dean’s yellow over shirt at the end. We never see him wearing yellow, certainly not that blatantly, or at least not that I remember. (My memory is unreliable) ‘Heaven and irresistible duty’ certainly fit, but I’m wondering if you have any new thoughts or anything else to add.

***

hello! And welcome to the continuation of the chat I initiated with you while trying to work out what exactly to say here. I’m copy/pasting my chat rambling here and then going forward from there…

(editing this, because tumblr borked the formatting when I posted it... thanks for that >.>)

the way Lilith’s clothes were coded in this episode were effectively a trap. SHE was effectively a trap, I mean Chuck had “written her into the episode” specifically to “seduce dean” after all… and she did that… wearing an outfit that ScREAMED Cas, so I want to put together something coherent for you before replying :’D

coinofstone Gotcha. Thank you for teaching out. I don’t generally follow color meta, someone pointed me to some of your #color and temp posts so I dug through a little before sending in the ask - Lilith’s comment about Chuck’s pervy obsession with Dean was a giant klaxon that made me think of Dean’s concerns about Cas too. But it’s also another “Hey remember Amara” moment

mittensmorgul yeah, and it’s a really good point

coinofstone Absolutely. I look forward to reading your post on this, once you’ve had time to digest and get it all written

mittensmorgul you mentioned the “duty to heaven” association with that mustard yellow/tan color, and that seems really relevant since Lilith’s entire presence there was in service to Chuck’s story, even as an unwilling participant in it, while Dean’s wrestling with his entire relationship to Cas, questioning if any of it was even real, since Cas’s mission originated as “Duty to Heaven” in saving him from Hell

mittensmorgul And I think all of this will become textual in 15.09, in Dean’s prayer to Cas…Foreshadowing! But not the kind Chuck’s writing…

mittensmorgul heck, I think I might just copy paste what I wrote to you here, and reply to your messages. I think I’ve worked out what I need to say

(and now that I have permission to post this, we can move on to why this is so interesting)

Lilith lampshaded herself as Chuck’s plot device, effectively. She was reenacting her own previous plot line from 4.18, seducing one of the brothers. Last time it was Sam, this time it was Dean. I’ve already posted something else about this tonight. She actively critiqued Chuck’s writing all along. She saw through Chuck’s story enough– even while she was a basically manufactured element of his story– to be self-aware of her own function within that story, as well as to point at other elements of the story and tell Dean “this is foreshadowing, isn’t it dull and predictable?”

She’s like… the opposite of Becky in 15.04.

Chuck basically BEGGED Becky to give him “notes” on his draft, and Becky had approached it in a fanfic-mindset of good faith, assuming Chuck was basically just writing fanfic as any human would. Lilith is self-aware, and knows the meta-plot. She knows she’s been placed there as a character in Chuck’s story, and she knows all about the story Chuck is trying to tell… and she HATES it.

She says she was given the choice of three vessels, and chose the one who’d apparently “picked the hardest road” for herself. She could’ve chosen one of the other girls, but this is the story that resonated with Lilith. Did she choose this, or did Chuck create her story out of whole cloth as even more foreshadowing, and with heavy references to the past when he’d done exactly the same thing with her? (rewriting her from a child into a “comely dental hygienist” when that suited the narrative he needed to tell?)

But that brings me back to Ashley/Lilith’s weird choice of clothing. Even back in the opening scenes in the tent, her two friends are dressed normally– t-shirts, like one might wear to sleep while camping. But Ashley… had the tie on. Scarf. Neckerchief. Whatever. She looked weirdly like she was trying to be a girl scout just because they’d been on a camping trip, you know? So, weird neckerchief. Which in this case looks both like Cas’s tie, AND Marie’s outfit in 10.05.

And Chuck told her, “not bad.”

Yeah, school uniforms for Marie and friends, but… Ashley/Lilith apparently chose this for herself, right down to the weird little beret.

Marie’s outfit was trimmed in this mustard color, but Lilith’s is just full-on mustard accessories.

Because Lilith was entirely self-aware through this entire episode that she was nothing more than Chuck’s plot device. She had no free will. She said repeatedly that she would’ve tortured and killed Sam and Dean both if she could, but she couldn’t, because she was entirely limited by what Chuck created her for within this episode. HOW FRUSTRATING, RIGHT?!

I guess, hence the perma-fake-tear visual of that wound on her cheek. Which was emphasized in the episode with her actual tears coursing over the cut.

This… was her chain. She could COMPLAIN about her role, she could complain about the stupidity of Chuck’s entire story. She could even laugh about his obvious asinine plot devices and foreshadowing– including her own incongruous appearance at this point in the story. But she was entirely bound by the construct Chuck created for her, and was unable to act outside of his plot.

Duty. Bound. And it’s tied right around her neck like a choker she can’t take off, in the color of duty to Heaven.

AND SHE WAS A DEMON, NOT AN ANGEL.

That doesn’t exempt her at all from being a pawn in Chuck’s narrative.

She even talked about her original purpose, to die for the original story, to free Lucifer, and her frustration that it was all for nothing. There was no grand purpose fulfilled because of her sacrifice. As far as she;s concerned, everything her entire existence was built around had been a lie. And she’s seen Chuck whole story for what it really is as a result of that. And yet here she is, playing another role for Chuck, in his unending narrative where he hopes maybe this time around things will work out to his liking. But it never will.

She also lampshaded the whole Free Will versus Destiny conundrum which we’ve been saying for years was the central theme of Supernatural since… forever. And pushed Dean to reiterate his stand on it– that he wouldn’t give it up, that he’d take all the bad he’d ever endured all over again, as long as he was making his own choices in his life. I’m not even sure that was what Chuck was going for here, or if Dean’s continued assertion of his own belief in free will was what broke Chuck’s hold over Lilith as a “character” here, and allowed her to begin voicing her critique of Chuck’s story, you know? If Dean had given in to her seduction, would she have ever been able to wrench free enough of Chuck’s written story to voice her own opinions of it? I like to think that Dean’s act of rebellion there changed the script, or allowed her to go “off script” enough to fill him in on some of the realities of Chuck’s interference.

But that remains to be seen. As far as Lilith goes, I think she was a construct for this episode… literally an agent of Chuck entirely created for the purposes of this episode as a test just as she was in 4.18. Was this the “real Lilith” brought from the Empty? Or just Chuck doing his thing and creating a story? How much can a writer really lie within the construct of his own disintegrating story?

[hybridfiction]

On Roswell, Research, and Reliability, or the Importance, of Research

No matter what the form or purpose of writing—whether a novel, blog, etc.—research is not only practical but also necessary. In fact, solid research grounds any form of writing. Since you aren’t simply stating an opinion off the top of your head, your words will hold truth. And truth is powerful. Even in the various fiction genres, including sci-fi and fantasy, it’s the true bits that add color to the story and make it compelling.

Moreover, research fills in knowledge gaps, rids your writing of unhealthy absolutes, and strengthens your critical thinking processes, which in turn affects how and what you write. Learning how to perform research, then, is crucial to developing as a writer.

Research is not something we instinctively know how to perform, and like most things worth knowing, it takes time to develop the necessary discernment between what’s good information and what’s not. Thanks to the pervasive nature of the internet, all of us have a basic grasp of how to perform an online search, but there’s a vast difference between googling “travel tips for safaris” and researching to learn something well enough to write on it convincingly. It’s the difference between wanting to know more about Roswell UFO sightings because I’m a little interested in aliens and deciding to write a novel set in Roswell during 1947 or writing a scholarly piece on the sociological role Roswell has played in the belief of the existence of UFOs in the United States.

While the first definitely encourages the latter two, it will not offer enough credible or reliable information to write anything that is not based on rumor and speculation. The difference between a reliable source and an unreliable source is the difference between truth and make-believe. Unreliable sources are filled with skewed data, unchecked “facts,” and leaps of reality. Alternately, reliable sources generally maintain high standards of scholarship and factuality.

Once you begin to research your topic—be it Batman or Einstein—you’ll soon be able to compare and contrast the differences in the nature and quality of information. However, the best way to begin judging facts versus opinion is to (1) examine the author’s background in the field, (2) note whether the author is making unsupported assertions or wild leaps in logic (ex. “So-and-so spoke fondly of this person, so they obviously had an affair,” or, “Since we can’t see gravity, it doesn’t exist”), and (3) question the source: does it come from a reliable source?

To begin researching, then, you’ll first need to narrow down your search terms. Let’s go back to Roswell for a moment and say I’m going to go ahead and write that novel. “Roswell” alone is too broad a search term. I will need to outline specifics of what I want and need to know (which, of course, depends on what I want to write). For example, I might need to know about life in 1947, the Air Force, the investigation, etc. I’d also need to decide who my main character will be and fill in background information on him or her or them. Will he or she be a journalist, police officer, alien, or bobbysoxer? What were each of these people like, what were their mindsets, how did they speak, what would their daily activities be?

If I chose to write the scholarly piece, however, I’d not only need to know the history of supposed UFO crashes and sightings but also how Roswell became known as a UFO crash site. What projected the incident in Roswell from a small-town event at the back of the public consciousness to a full-blown “government conspiracy,” and so on? Since my study would be from a sociological standpoint, I’d need to find confirmed reports and interviews of persons affected by the phenomenon, including well-documented case studies and research.

Once you’ve narrowed down your key terms, it’s time to perform multiple searches in research databases, library catalogs, and on the internet. Sift through the search results by titles, abstracts, and summaries/blurbs before actually reading anything. Since right now you’re only compiling data, it helps to create a desktop folder to save whatever you want to further investigate. Also, don’t stop looking after the second page of results. What may be most useful to you may not be in the top ten or twenty search results.

Once that’s done, it’s time to start sorting through the articles. Glance through the first few paragraphs to categorize them according to their merit, such as “Useless” (which you trash), “Possibilities” (which may contribute to your research), and “Important” (self-explanatory).

Once sorted, begin to read and highlight/underline and take notes. Note-taking helps you to process all that data and to assimilate ideas so as to generate your own perspective on the topic.

On the whole, research is necessary and can be a very rewarding learning experience.

Tips

Read everything with a grain of salt. People are imperfect—which is wonderful—but that means we make mistakes, draw wrong conclusions, and sometimes decide our opinions are gospel truth.

Visit your local university or college libraries to access their research databases and locate peer-reviewed, reliable sources.

When researching, be wary of getting lost “down the rabbit hole.” Gathering a lot of sources is good, but there’s such a thing as too much. Know when to stop—generally when you know what an author will say before he or she says it—and don’t let researching stop you from writing. Begin drafting what you can with the intent of returning later to flesh out what you don’t currently know.

We’re excited to announce that every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday, we are offering our insight on different techniques needed to make good creative projects. These projects include stories (long and short form), comics, movies, TV shows, and art. Also, we love listening, so please share your insights in return!

[timebuzzer]

Love Channels Chapter 2.1

Still Sean's POV

How’s your presentation going?” I asked when he answered my call.

“Why are you asking all of a sudden? You’re not one to check on how my presentation goes.” he retorted.

“I just wanted to check because I felt like I am lacking as a friend and because usually you’d check up on me. So I am returning the favor. You know. I don’t want you spatting nonsense later on as to how I am unreliable and what not.” Even I know I sounded like I am up to no good. This is so out of my character.

“Spill it, what do you want? I can’t hang out with you this lunchtime man. I have to work on our presentation and I have a drill sergeant of a partner.” Pete sounded rushed.

“Speaking of your drill sergeant of a partner….” I trailed off.

“What about? Say it now cause I need to be at the cafe with her for our edits.” sounding so impatient than usual.

Here goes my attempt to refresh my stale love life. “Can I have her number?”

“Hello?” I said after a few seconds of not hearing Pete on the other side.

“What did you just say?” he sounded serious.

“I’m asking if I could have her number.” Now I think that sounded a little afraid of Pete.

“Listen Sean, I know you, have known you since high school and I trust you with my life too but Jamie? I told you she’s like a sister to me. I don’t want you playing around with her. She does not need that kind of game from anyone. So if you’re just looking for some distraction, she’s not it. And she won’t be it, I won’t allow it.” he said all too serious sounding like a strict overprotective brother.

“Pete, like you said, you’ve known me for so long and you know for a fact I don’t act like this usually. What I am saying is that I just want to get her number and maybe make friends with her and if she allows, you know go out on a date with me. But I will never force her if she is not interested. I would stay away if she says so.” I said all too sincere because that’s the truth.

“You are that interested huh? I will ask her if she wants to give her number and if she says no then that’s about all the help I could give you.”

“Thanks man, that’s all I could wish for. Anyway, I won’t keep you longer. I appreciate it!” Saying my goodbye and ending that call with a sense of slight relief.

I was eating lunch with my lab mates when my phone vibrated and saw a text from Pete. Now I am afraid to open it. What if it says she doesn't want to? I promised him I won’t push it if she is not interested but can I handle it?

With a hoof, I opened the message that says.

"Hey, so I asked her if she wants to give you her number…..” the hell is Pete playing at, it did not say anything else. I waited for a few more seconds and nothing else came in. Impatient, I texted back.

“And….? Come on Pete if you’re going to break it, break it. No need to linger. I’m ready for the shutdown.”

“Hahaha! I thought you’d stay silent. Here goes.... xx216xx516. You better not be texting her right now, we are busy and no distractions. My grades depend on this if you want to see me graduating next coming semesters and get your lifetime free consultations.” oh what a relief. This guy never fails to mess with me.

“YES! Thank you Pete!!!! I owe you dinner for this. And yes I won’t text now. I understand how important that is.” I can never be this thankful.

I got so excited and saved her number with just “Jamie 🙂” on my contacts.

I had to keep myself from texting her the day I got her number. I know how important that lab presentation is to them and with the semester nearing to end, they need to get their grades ready for the next semester, otherwise they might get more coursework and that would mean losing more sleep and not properly eating.

His text says.

All the drafted messages I had sounded so cheesy that even when I read it, I cringed. I had to delete them so many times and settled with congratulations.

I even forgot to mention who I was so I sent a second text message introducing myself. It took her awhile to respond which was fine as they were having lunch.

Then I got a simple “Thank you.”

Now for many, that is one dead end reply. But since I am Sean, I won’t let that end that way.

Her replying means she’s accommodating my attempts to be friends with her.

“You’re welcome?” That has to be the lamest retort to a thank you but I had to use the question mark to add that flair. I sighed in relief that she responded.

Though I know she needed to eat a good meal after that grueling presentation so I had to cut the text exchanges short. Like I promised I would not impose myself too much as she needs her own time too.

I got busy the past three days checking how the mechanisms I am working at the factory is doing. I heard from Pete that they are a bit busy too when I asked him if he wanted to have a drink with me and claim that free dinner.

I’m at the library today, I don’t usually come here anymore like I used to but when I do it’s always just with my labmates to get some work done.

I have not sent a text message to her the past few days even if I wanted to because I know how they can get cooped up with all the studies they have to read.

I decided against it and told myself to actually just send a message without always second guessing, she can reply if she has free time and if she wants to.

If I am this interested, I should at least keep trying.

No harm and besides, she actually replied the first time I sent her messages so that means something.

When she replied right away with my simple “Hi” I sighed in relief.

I have to keep this conversation going and hopefully I could ask her out for dinner if she needs a break.

She can pretty well hold a conversation, I tell you that. I mean she’s gorgeous but her traits seem far more radiant than that.

“Why, are you going to give me a supply?” I was taken aback with this and wondered how I would answer.

“Would you let me to?” Oh God, now why did I send that message. That is pretty much loaded and anyone can sense what that means.

Her reply put a big smile on my face that my labmates noticed and started teasing me. They suddenly wanted to eat out and here I am debating whether I should join them or not but I hadn't really asked Jamie if she wanted to take a break and eat dinner with me.

When she asked what I was having for dinner or plan on having, I was touched. I know she was just keeping the conversation going and I am not supposed to be reading into that but I can dream that she cares a little right?

I had to be honest with her that I planned on asking her out for dinner tonight if she wanted to take a break because I thought that was the right thing to do. I value honesty in a relationship and if this ever progresses, I want to build it on that.

When her reply came in, I was a little disappointed that my chance passed.

But when she said “maybe some other time.” I felt like I won the lottery.

She’s agreeing, that means she’s agreeing on going out with me.

I think the heavens opened up for me. We set a date on Friday and I cannot wait for that day to come.

I told her I would stop texting her so she could go back to her writing and wish her a great night, even if I wanted to keep the conversation going.

Now how do I deal from Tuesday til Friday, I can’t wait til the days pass and I finally get the chance to have a conversation with her face to face.