#but also practically good luck in getting people to stop because the sharing function fucking sucks

[hekettled]

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[laurie-stark]

Get up and get out

Summary: Sort of part two to Unwanted. A year after fighting in Germany, y/n has to deal with the insufferable Peter Parker being around the house all the time. 

Pairings: Peter Parker x stark!reader, tony stark x daughter!reader, Natasha Romanoff x daughter!reader. 

Warnings: swearing, angst? i guess? mentions of blood. mentions of panic nightmares 

A/N: Again, I want to make it very clear so there isn’t any confusion: Y/n is Tony’s biological child, however, being raised also by Natasha, Steve and Pepper, she calls them Muma, Pops and Mom. Hopefully that makes sense LOL oh and also i’ve never written like...kiss scenes before so just go with it okay?

He was here again. Third time this week that he has come barging into my home and taken over my training center. Okay, to be fair, it was not my training center but still. Peter Parker will never stop being a pain in my ass. Ever since that stupid trip to Germany, he has been coming over and training for hours, or working with Dad. Three times just this week I’ve had to endure listening to Peter talk with his stupid little voice and walk around my house like he owns the place. Who does he think he is? And every time I have to sit through another dinner of Dad blabbing on and on about what a miraculous boy he is.

               “Really y/n, I think you two would be great friends,” I rolled my eyes as I picked at my dinner. The rest of the family ate in silence around the table. The last thing I wanted to do is spend more time with stupid Spider-boy. On the afternoons when he was here, I tried my best to stay out of his way. I would stay on my floor and he stays on his. Simple. I don’t need a new friend.

“…And he’s coming by again tomorrow, so I was thinking of showing him A.P.R.I.L. if you wanted to join us-” Dad continued.

What the hell? I thought. “No!” I snapped. “No way. A.P.R.I.L. is mine, I don’t want him messing with her.” Dad frowned at me. The rest of the table looked up in my direction. My shoulders tensed up as I faced my father. A.P.R.I.L. is my baby and I was ready to go toe to toe with him if I needed too.

“What do you mean no? I thought you’d be excited to share that with him,” he started.

“Well I’m not, so back off,” I sneered. The shift in his expression made me want to bite my own tongue. “Please.”

“I seriously do not understand what your problem is. You’ve been complaining for years how there’s only adults but the second a kid your age comes by you’re all “oooh no don’t talk to me Peter!””

I scoffed. “Sorry, I guess I just don’t want to bother you and your new best friend.”

“There it is. Why are you so jealous of him? He’s not that cool. He hasn’t made a fully functioning A.I at the age of 15. He just spits sticky stuff out of his fingers. Honestly y/n, you’re making zero sense right now.”

“Whatever, I’m over this,” I said, pushing my chair back from the table. I grabbed my untouched dinner plate and headed towards the kitchen. “I’m not hungry. And don’t show him A.P.R.I.L., I mean it!” I dumped my plate in the sink and marched right down the hall towards the elevators. My dad was right. I wasn’t making any sense. Ever since I made A.P.R.I.L I’ve used every excuse I could find to shove her down people’s throats. Anyone who would listen to me, I would tell them. Tell them all about how I programmed her to have realistic personality. How she’s running through the walls of this place, through my room, even inside the bracelet I never take off. All I knew is that I didn’t want Peter Parker anywhere near her.

I shut the door to my hard, and flopped onto my bed. A.P.R.I.L. reminded me that slamming the doors usually results in a punishment. I acknowledged her with a half-hearted grunt. I started programming A.P.R.I.L. when I was thirteen. Or rather, reprogrammed. A.P.R.I.L. was made from an older prototype version of F.R.I.D.A.Y. The base stuff was already there, I just moved some things here, recoded there until she was perfect. I don’t know why I got so defensive about Peter meeting her. Or why I had to pick another fight with my dad.

It was easier these days. To fight him, I mean. I suppose I never got over the whole “Peter is better, I choose him over you, blah, blah” thing as much as I thought I did. So, I would pick fights. Fighting over Peter was the simplest way to go, considering he was the reason I was so angry in the first place. Sometimes we would fight over him, other times we would fight over silly things. Like how I keep forgetting not to put my coffee grounds in the garbage disposal. Most of the time it was all just bickering that would blow over in thirty minutes, give or take. Sometimes it was explosive, like today.  I took in a shaky breath and sprawled out across my sheets. Sometimes this family is a fucking nightmare.

Dad didn’t come by this time. It threw me off for a second because he always comes by. Even if it’s six hours later and neither of us should be awake, he still comes by with a box of milk duds that we share in silence before one of us apologizes first. That’s how we work. When it finally sunk in that he was not planning on coming, I put A.P.R.I.L. on the job. I figured perhaps he left the compound, maybe took Mom for a nighttime stroll.

“Your father is on floor B, Miss Stark,” A.P.R.I.L. informed me.

“Jesus A.P.R.I.L., how many times have I said to cut the formalities,” I muttered.

“My apologies, y/n.”

Floor B. What the hell is he doing on floor B at…12:00 in the morning? Floor B is strictly for members of household and other Avengers. There are a billion different training rooms down there. Weight rooms, boxing, a huge pool, stuff like that. Not to taint his image, but I can safely say the last time my father willingly worked out for fun was probably before I was even born. Why was he down there? Unless…

“A.P.R.I.L. who else is on floor B right now?” I asked. “Throw it on the hologram, would you dear?

The sounds of the hologram starting filled the room. A.P.R.I.L. pulled up the security map of floor B, like I’d asked. There was my dad, floor B in the boxing room of all places. Pops and Sam looked to be going at it in another one of the combat training rooms. My confusion only rose when another nametag popped up on the screen. My brows furrowed.

Peter Parker

What was he doing here? Why was he boxing? Why was he not in his own home at midnight on a Thursday? My mind was spinning with questions. A knock at my door startled me.

“Come in…”

Natasha popped her head through the doorway. “Hey there…whatcha doing kid?”

I swiftly swiped away the hologram screen and sat up straight. “Nothing. What’s up?”

“Well, we’re getting a little worried about you,” she said. We being everyone else at the table who had to witness my brawl with Dad. She sat down beside me. “You haven’t fought back like that in a long time and I’ve noticed you’re fighting with him a lot recently. You want to tell me what that’s all about?”

I wanted too. God, I wanted too. I hadn’t told anyone what my father said to me that day after the airport, not even my mom. But it didn’t matter. I’d get over it sooner or later, so there was no point troubling anyone else with my problems…right? My eyes started to well up but I blinked away the tears. “No. Everything’s fine,” I put on a smile.

Natasha tucked me in under her arm. “Okay then. Maybe tomorrow.” That was Muma for you. She never pushed me to talk but knew I would come around at some point. In the meantime, she just held me. I cried into her embrace. She let me cry into her shoulder for a long while, until I was empty. After a time, I let go and she got up, giving me a kiss on the head before wishing me a good night.

I rubbed my hands over my face, brushing off any remaining tears. “A.P.R.I.L. bring the hologram back up please.”

“Are you sure y/n?”

…

“Yeah.”

Peter was still in the boxing room but my father was not. Upon further digging, I found the nametag reading Tony Stark on my floor. He’d gone to bed. I pondered to myself as to whether or not I should venture downstairs. What is the worst thing that could happen? Peter is secretly a Hydra spy and kills me? No, I shook my head. Don’t be ridiculous. Another minute passed and I’d made up my mind.

“A.P.R.I.L. engage “I am definitely here”,” I commanded.

“”I am definitely here” protocol engaged. Volume minimized to 5% and your tracking tag will be pinned to this room,” A.P.R.I.L. responded. “Good luck on your mission small agent.”

“Oh shut up,” I chided. I closed the door to my room as softly as I could. It was nearly one in the morning, most of the hall would be asleep. Or at least they should be. The hallway was silent, except for the soft noise of my socks padding along the floor. I cursed myself for looking so ridiculous. If anyone caught me, I could easily say that I was just getting a midnight snack. Not sneaking down to spy on Spider-bitch. Boy. Whatever. Sneaking added to the excitement.

I made it downstairs all in one piece. Steve and Sam nearly passed me in one of the halls, but I had ducked into a briefing room. I could totally be a spy. Maybe I’m a Hydra spy. I thought. And they sent me here as a baby to take down the Avengers from the inside. What was I going on about? This was why I should really be in bed, I was clearly delirious. Once again, distracting myself in my thoughts led to me getting startled. I hadn’t even realized I was outside the boxing room. I would have walked right in if not for the handy wall that I smacked into.

Peter was in the ring, practicing his punches. He’d lowered down one of the punching bags from the ceiling and it was close to ripping at the seams. He was really going ham on it. The questions piled on. So, he came over to my house at midnight to…train? Something he had all afternoon today to do? God, he was weird. I suppose I didn’t quite know what I was going to get myself into when I finally walked in to confront him.

“What are you doing?” I asked, arms folded tightly across my chest.

Peter started and looked down at me. Sweat was dripping down his face. He looked exhausted. “Training,” he said bluntly. He returned to treating the punching bag like it had run over his dog.

“At one in the morning? And after you spent like six hours today doing just that?” I was not letting him off that easy. Peter ignored me and continued punching. “Your form is shit.” I mocked.

That made him stop. “Funny coming from the girl who never leaves her room. When have you ever trained? Like ever?”

“I still beat your ass.”

“Yeah like, a year ago when I was barely an avenger.”

I rolled my eyes. “You still aren’t.”

“What do you want?” Peter spat.

I shrugged. “Dunno.” I stared him down with a smug look on my face.

“You are always such a bitch, you know that?”

I faked a pout. “Aw…bite me.”

Peter was chewing the inside of his cheek in anger. “If you’re going to stay here and pester me, you might as well get a few punches in.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Consider it a rematch.”

I studied his physique for a moment. He’d grown a lot since Germany. He’d also trained a lot since then as well. I had done little of either. I knew that entering that ring would probably end up with me losing my dignity and maybe even a tooth. But I was not going to let him stand there with his stupid, sweaty face and get away with it. This is not a good idea, I thought as I took off my socks. I moved the ropes and stepped into the ring, standing a foot in front of the boy.

“I’ll still win.”

“No powers either.”

“Deal.” Not like I’ve touched my powers since…since the incident.

Peter took his stance and I did my best to mirror him. I realized in that moment that I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t know the first thing about boxing. Or sparring. I didn’t know how to fight without my powers. Oh, sweet Jesus.

We kept our distance at first, fists up. He threw a few punches and missed. I followed in suit. I finally got the first hit, a nice throw to his chest. He took it like a champ and didn’t flinch. Or rather, I couldn’t hit for shit and it didn’t hurt. He threw a punch to my left, only to miss on purpose and punched me square across my jaw. Ow. I chuckled lowly. The taste of blood filled my mouth from the fresh cut on my lip. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth. All I could see was white rage.

Forget form, forget rules, forget everything. I lunged at him with everything I had. Lunged at him for all the bullshit he had brought into my life. For all the bitter things I had to hear my father say that weren’t even Peter’s fault. He was clearly not expecting my attack because we both fell to the ground. We fought tirelessly on the mat. He was physically stronger than me, so by default he was winning. He wrestled me until I was pinned under him. One hand was pinning my hand above my head, the other arm pinning down my body. In any other circumstances I would be amused to find myself in such a scandal. I looked in his eyes briefly and I could already tell he thought that he was winning. If there’s one thing I learned from Nat, it’s to always step on their moment. I hooked my leg around his knee and used all my force to flip us over. I had him pinned down now, my hair falling around my face. We were both breathing heavily.

“Told you,” I taunted. I was mentally preparing him to punch back but he didn’t. He snapped his arms out from under me and shoved me off him, hard. I fell back against the mat. He rose to his feet, brushing his hands off on his pants. “What the hell?” I exclaimed. I jumped to my feet while his back was turned to me and gave him a taste of his own medicine. He stumbled a few steps after I pushed him. Slowly, he stretched back up to reach his full height.

“You’re right,” he turned to face me and extended a hand. “Shake on the truce?” I took his hand, accepting his surrender. Only, he was not really surrendering. The moment my hand touched his, he yanked me towards him. I tripped over my feet and fell into him. My chest crashed onto his. The world was a blur as he grabbed me with force and spun us around, so he could push me up against the ropes of the ring.

“Stop, Peter get off me you bitch!” I fought back. I flailed my whole body around, trying to break loose. One hand reached up to grab the back of my head, pulling my hair and forcing my head back. I froze. His face was dangerously close to my exposed neck. His shift let my opposite arm break free. I took a breathe and reeled it back, ready to smack him in the across the face. He caught my wrist in time without taking his eyes off mine.

He lowered his head to whisper in my ear, “I win.” His breathe trickled down my neck. He had won, but he wasn’t moving. One hand was still in my hair, the other was pinning me against the ropes. His chest breathed heavily against my own. His grip on my head loosened slightly and I was able to look him straight on. He had that same smug look pasted across his face. His eyes moved from mine, trailing down my face, my neck, my body, before they settled on my lips. I momentarily lost the ability to breathe.

He kissed me hard. I tensed up slightly before giving into him completely. It tasted like blood and sweat and I felt like I was losing my mind. He pulled me closer, if that was even possible and claimed my mouth with his until my knees gave out. A newfound wave of warm washed through me. The hand in my hair gave a slight tug and my lips parted while that same hand moved to cup my jaw. For all I knew, the entire compound was wide awake and watching but I did not care. I brought my fingers to his hair, tugging at the ends. I smiled cunningly when he groaned into my mouth. He kissed me greedily and fully. Like he hated me. And I hated him.

We broke apart, limbs numb and chests heaving. The moment had passed, and our actions sunk in. What. The. Fuck. He lifted the ropes for me, and I climbed out of the ring. My head was still spinning from that kiss and my lip stung. Consequences I suppose, for kissing someone with a busted lip. I silently pulled my socks back on and Peter handed me a towel. Neither of us said another word. I left the room and didn’t look back. I could hear him behind me, but I was in no rush to have to look him in the eye ever again. What just happened?

 I woke the next morning to A.P.R.I.L. alerting me that “Father Dearest” was outside my door. He came in and sat on the edge of the bed. We both stayed quiet for a while.

I spoke first. “Where were you last night? You didn’t come by after…” I let my words trail off.

“I was going to, I swear. But then something came up with Peter and I had to go take care of that,” Dad answered.

I frowned. “Typical. Peter over your own flesh and blood, right?”

Dad inhaled sharply like he was going to bite back, but changed his mind. “That’s not true and you know it. Peter is…he’s going through something and I knew how to help him. Not everything is about you, you narcissist,” He said, joking at the end.

I had to push down my own smile. “Yeah well where do you think I got it from?” I sat up and leaned into my father. He brushed a hand down my back. “So, what’s wrong with Peter then?”

“I really shouldn’t tell you, it’s personal.” I looked up at him with my doe eyes. He rolled his eyes and sighed, nodding a silent defeat. I felt like I was nine again and he was gossiping with me about the latest secretary. Like every fight had been forgotten in this moment. “He’s been having some nightmares ever since DC. You remember the ones we used to get after Loki?” I nodded. “Now you, you always amazed me at how you handled those. But for me and Peter, we needed a different outlet. So, I let him come over in the middle of the night. I didn’t think anyone would notice.” I hummed in response, not sure what to make of that information. I mean, I kind of felt bad for the guy. He was still a bitch, but those dreams suck. No one should have to deal with them. “He really isn’t as bad as you think, you know.”

“Yeah,” I hummed. “I think you’re right.”

tag list:

@runawayolives @ creation-magician @ eridanuswave @ markhyucksmells @ beep-beep-losersclub

[werewolf-cl4ws]

Random head cannons for my AU because these require oddly specific questions I don’t think I’ve ever seen ask memes have.

A lot of these I do have something to back them up with, but others it's just logical hilarity to me because I can.

Kitty!Sonic:

- absolutely mistrusts/gets annoyed by anyone that is an "authority figure" (i.e. adults "in charge", leaders, etc) but does nothing to actually be useful. As a kid he was always told to listen to the adults because "they know best", but after the coup and seeing a good number of adults doing everything in their power to just save their own hides or hiding, it fucked him right off. Only adults he’s ever respected were his uncle and Rosie (Rosie took some time to gain that trust though because why the hell is she teaching us maths when people need help???). Bookshire is another but he does fight Bookshire on occasion because Sonic hates fussing with medical stuff.

This carried on into his own adulthood, and it’s hilarious whenever someone points out he’s the adult now as it sets off his aversion to being older, but if he has to be called an adult then damnit he’s gonna be a USEFUL one at least.

And yes he has confirmed on many occasions that he can and will flip off King Acorn if he plays up. What's he gonna do, ground him? Arrest his for treason? He flipped off Robotnik, he ain't scared of no thing.

- his uncle was brilliant with robotics and mechanics and science. Sonic has literally zero idea about any of those. And yet he’s weirdly good at chemistry. But he doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to use this so no one knows this, but Rotor has come by chemistry formulas mysteriously solved if he leaves them out on his workbench after a night of wracking his brains over why something isn’t working. How does Sonic know this? Nobody knows, Sonic will never tell either, and will deny he’s even good at it.

- he’s also very good at physics, in that he knows exactly how to break physics to do impossible shit. He’s great at figuring out just what angles he needs to shoot himself into to get the most air time, how much speed and lift to land in the exact spot, etc. It all happens automatically to him (it has to, going at the speeds he does there’s literally no time to plan this shit) but if someone asks him he will actually figure it out in the spot with freakishly good accuracy, and can do it not just with him being the projectile but any object (he has worked out perfect catapult trajectories before and it still baffles everyone to this day). Again, he doesn’t know how he knows this, will never tell anyone he knows how to do this, and will deny he knows this.

- he’s also good with musical instruments. Obviously his favourite is the electric guitar, but if you give him a sheet of music and at least an hour to mess around with the instrument he’ll work it out. Getting to watch him play the violin is a rare but delightful treat. This is his special interest, the thing he would have gotten into if the world hadn’t gone to shit. He doesn’t get to indulge in it as much as he’s like but he loves music and could ramble about it for hours on end if given the chance.

The con of this though is that he's really good at identifying music, including ones from operas and orchestras. Sally takes great delight in making him identify both because he does get embarrassed about it, but his pride doesn't allow him to just not pick them out.

- he likes to cook, but he prefers recipes that allow him to leave things to cook without him needing to watch it once it’s prepared. So baking, roasting, slow cook stuff like soups and chili, that’s his jam. Anything that’s gonna be a long haul he has to be basically trapped in his hut to do it without wanting to go nuts (so extra cold days where being outside would be hell are good cooking days).

- during the summer he sleeps in a hammock. During the winter he sleeps in a bed and practically buries himself in blankets.

- loves bubblegum. Gum balls, sticks of gum, whatever. If it’s gum he loves it. Unfortunately it is non existent thanks to the coup (shelf life of gum is terrible) so finding any that’s not terrible is an amazing day.

- milk and cookies is oddly a comfort food to him. Something about the simplicity of it just works for him, and ridiculously shit days are made better by it. Default choc chip cookies work best.

- he hates spiders. More specifically, he hates when you see a spider, look away, then look back only to find the spider is gone. Spiders themselves don’t bother him until they do that, but once they do he has to fight himself to not just set whatever building or dwelling he happens to be on fire in order to solve the issue of having to deal with it later.

- he’s about .0001 seconds away from just walking away into the forest and never coming back. He won’t do it because he honestly doesn’t want to abandon his friends… but he’s so close to just becoming a cryptic in the forest. He has wandered off before when things get super annoying, but someone always drags him back, much to his endless frustration.

Sally:

- can’t cook for anything. Sonic has seen her burn water. Toast somehow always ends in fire. No one ever attempt to drink her coffee for your own sake.

And yet somehow she makes really, really good pancakes. Like ridiculously good. She makes them very rarely because she’s always busy with something and has been banned from all kitchens, but when she does they’re amazing and no one can figure out how this happens.

- if she’s snacking on nuts or anything that doesn’t go soggy (like hard/dry fruits, or extra crusty breads) she will sometimes keep some in her cheeks. Not to the point that her cheeks will be bulging with them, but if she’s working while snacking she will just stash some away so she can focus on what she’s doing, and then when she’s done just finishes those off. This only happens when she needs to focus so she’s pretty discreet about this and has perfected talking/quick chewing with them if someone interrupts her.

- she loves video games, but because they’re so hard to come by thanks to the coup she doesn’t get to play as often as she’d like. She knows Sonic, Tails and Rotor has some stashed away and has played them on the sly, which has left them wondering how their high scores got beaten or how new levels have been unlocked. Though she has to be careful about this because if she’s left alone with them long enough she will just play them until either she finishes the game, or someone physically drags her away from it. This is probably her only weak point in terms of something that can just pull her away entirely from everything.

- she is very, very neat… only because she literally doesn’t make a mess of anything thanks to her one-track mind. If she’s working on a plan or something that needs a lot of research she will basically just make a pathway to her desk and bed and leave everything else undisturbed. She will still shower, only because the shower is just another place for her to think without interruption. This is a big factor on why she can’t cook for shit, too. She just… doesn’t. At all. Because she’s gotta work. Work is life because they may literally die if she can’t figure plans out

- she is genuinely fascinated by legends and myths, which we see a lot of in SatAM. Although she does sometimes dismiss some legends or myths as just stories, if she finds anything that even hints at it being real, and if time allows it, she will chase it down. If it’s anything that might be especially useful in their fight she will go for it after doing a ton of research to make sure she’s got every angle and possibility down. The researching to that extent is due to her own perfectionism, but also because if the expedition turns out to be a bust it could mean time that should have been spent on something else/time being away from the village for a crapshoot.

Sonic and Sally as a couple:

- they don’t use pet names for one another… until one of them is absolutely pushing their luck with the other. Pet names = stop it.

- Sally did once call Sonic a shit-weasel out of anger during such a scenario, and then was immediately apologetic for it because that was Too Far™. Sonic said that made him fall in love with her all over again and it was an awesome insult. Pet names are still a no-go though.

- they live together and everyone thinks it’s Sonic that would be the nightmare to live with.

It’s not.

It’s Sally.

Sonic does get messy and likes to live in organised chaos, but Sally just has the worst sleeping habits (she doesn’t sleep), functions mostly on auto-pilot (the amount of times she eats the last of something but leaves the box it came in/was stored in for Sonic to find drives him up the wall something shocking all because she’s just vaguely thinking "I need food I suppose" alongside whatever she’s doing at the time), and if she’s working on something big she will spread herself everywhere (including Sonic’s bed if he isn’t in it or on it in some way).

Sonic won’t move out because he genuinely thinks if he did Sally would never sleep at proper hours or eat like a regular person unless he monitors her. Plus they actually really do like each other’s company and do miss one another if they aren’t in the same space in their down time. But Sonic is constantly amazed at just how much of a gremlin Sally can be and no one believes him.

- Sally takes great delight in this and amps up her gremlin behaviour because of it. If she does this in front of anyone else it just gets encouraged. It’s okay though because Sonic knows how to be a bastard so it’s a constant battle of who can out bastard or out gremlin who.

- they sleep separately (see aforementioned sleeping habits of gremlin ground squirrel), but on occasion will share a bed. Or share the couch. Sharing will almost always result in Sonic being used as a pillow/mattress but he’s fine with it, as long as it means Sally’s sleeping and they get to cuddle ‘cause cuddling is great.

- Sally loves puns. Sonic has begged her not to say puns. He secretly loves them but he hates that he gets them (temporarily forgetting your own language, then relearning it is a trip and picking up the puns does things to his head). Sally does not stop the puns. This has led to Sonic almost achieving his goal of becoming a forest cryptic as he does just start walking out when she starts.

- this is kinda canon but I like to joke that they are actually legally married and this happened during their zone-hopping adventures. But the marriage itself happened in the most mundane way for the most mundane reason, and yet it is legally binding and they do actually have wedding rings from it. They don’t wear the rings but they do carry it on their person at all times, and pull them out just to blindside people with them because it’s funny.

[ahopelessromantic]

31% ➳ S. Reid

Pairing: Spencer x neutral! Reader (if I missed something please tell me!)

Word count: 2,4k

Warnings: Suggestive content, Spencer and reader really have the hots for each other

The nature of your friendship with Reid has been flirtatious from the start. So flirtatious that the team thinks it’s all a joke... right? (A/N: Please don’t ask me what this is. I wrote this in one sitting while suffering from PMS, I don’t even know anymore.)

“Look at that walk.” Morgan chuckled to Emily for everyone but especially you to hear. You rolled your eyes, yet couldn’t help the smug grin on your face. Like girls in high school ready to hear the newest gossip your two colleagues and closest friends leaned over your desk. “You, sweetie, got laid.” You let out a happy sigh and leaned back in your chair. Last time you had been this relaxed had been… god, you couldn’t even remember it.

“What’s their name?” Emily grinned, stealing a sip of coffee from your mug. “And do they have a brother? Sister? Cousin?” You lifted your brow. “A respectable, decent human being like me doesn’t kiss and tell. But it’s a he. And he’s all mine.” Both Morgan and Emily lifted their eyebrows in surprise. “(Y/N)? Getting territorial? We love to see it.” Morgan teased. You squinted at him. “You know what? I loved flaunting my post-coital bliss in front of you, but quite frankly I’m starting to feel attacked now, so I’ll go hang out with Garcia.” Emily feigned a pout. “Come on! At least give us some details!” You just winked at her after getting up from your seat and disappeared down the hallway. On the way to Penelope’s office, you didn’t miss Spencer’s searing hot look on you, a hint of the same smug smile on his lips that had been on yours when you had entered the BAU this morning.

“(Y/N), this is bad. We’re breaking at least three policies just by being here together right now. Also, relationships between colleagues are rarely a good idea.” You chuckled and pressed another kiss to Spencer’s neck. “Then why does it feel so good, Spence? And, actually, workplace hookups are way more common thank you think. About 31% of them even end up in marriage.” “Are you using my own weapons against me right now? That’s hot.” He murmured and pulled you further into his lap. You looked down into his eyes, your gaze dropping to his lips momentarily before wandering back up again. There was just something about him that made you feel like you were on fire, as if an electric current ran between the two of you. You bit your lip and played with his tie. “You have to know how I feel whenever you’re spitting your facts at least once, too.” Your eyes met again, and then your lips were on his.

Spencer and you had gotten along like a house on fire from the day you had joined the BAU. Somehow the two of you had clicked right into place after just a short period of Spencer warming up to you. Before anyone could even tell what was happening you had become the team’s new dynamic duo. Your sharp wit matched his, and what he was too shy to say you spat right out. And that everlasting tension between you had been there from the beginning, too. It had almost cost you your sanity, the way the air in a room would change as soon as Spencer was in it, the way his mere presence made you want to either pounce on him or rip your lashes out. For a while, it had been enough to just bury that attraction where everyone could see it, in plain sight beneath heaps and heaps of slightly inappropriate flirting. Spencer would blurt out how your new heels gave you just the right height to make out with him, you would blurt out how you would like to see him in his glasses and nothing else. Everyone had taken your remarks as jokes, and you had always laughed with them. But there had never been anything funny about the shocks of electricity jolting through your fingers whenever your hands accidentally met or about the warmth seeping through you whenever you slept propped up against each other on the jet. All that tension had unloaded one day after an unusually hard case. Spencer and you had been taken hostage by an Unsub on a psychotic break, and it had only been due to luck and good timing that you had made it out alive. After debriefing, you had found yourself in an abandoned hallway of whatever precinct you had been in, and then your eyes had met. The look in them had been the same. Slightly frazzled, pupils still widened from the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You had both been so high on the incredibleness of still being alive that suddenly, you had decided to just fucking do what your body had been telling you to do for so long already. “I think I’m going to kiss you now.” You had breathed out, barely audible. Spencer had leaned against the wall behind him and lifted his chin as if he had been daring you to do it. “Okay.” He had whispered back. And then your lips had met in what you could swear had been the best kiss of your life. Your hands had tangled themselves in his hair as if they had been supposed to be there all along, and his hands had fit in the groove of your waist as if they had been made for it. Maybe you had both been made for each other.

“It looks like the unsub is citing the karma sutra.” JJ’s gaze wandered over the book excerpts up on the case board. “A sexual sadist maybe?” Spencer shook his head almost excitedly, a familiar gleam in his eyes which he got whenever a case was particularly interesting to him. “See, that’s the interesting part. 80% of the karma sutra is actually just love-related philosophy and how to sustain desire. There is no sexual component to his murders, so I think he might either be trying to throw us off or create some sort of bizarre scavenger hunt.” While chewing on one of the fries Emily had brought you all for dinner you let your eyes wander over the pictures of sex positions and quotations on the board, then to the copy of the book lying right in front of Spencer on the table. “Well, it’s definitely an interesting choice to make for a book. Spence, you’ll keep it memorised for later, right?” You spoke, mostly out of habit. Spencer winked at you in response and Morgan choked on his burger. “There’s people eating here!” He spluttered out, pointing at Hotch, who looked like he wanted to die, and Rossi, who was watching the scene unfold with an amused smile on his face. All he was missing was a bucket of popcorn to match the level of detachment he was displaying. Prentiss just laughed and turned her attention to you. “(Y/N), does your boyfriend know about your workplace flirting buddy?” She knew exactly what she was doing, a mischievous glint in her eyes. You felt your face fall for the split of a second but immediately regained your composure. “Nice try, honey. I’m still not telling you about him. Also, for what it’s worth, he’s not the jealous type. So he doesn’t mind.” You deliberately avoided Spencer’s gaze, praying to whichever deities out there that you weren’t blushing.

Later that evening, back in your apartment, you could tell that something was on Spencer’s mind. He had taken some paperwork home that, under normal circumstances, wouldn’t have taken him longer than an hour. But it had been two and a half hours already, and the subconscious mumbling he only did when he was extremely anxious set you off. “Spence, baby, are you okay?” You had been his roommate for long enough to know that he needed someone to be there in moments like these. The two of you sharing an apartment had been a decision for practicality’s sake more than anything. You had slept over at each other’s apartments half of the time before that anyway, and this way, you were even able to save up some more to hopefully soon buy the house of your dreams. The team probably didn’t even know about the two of you living together, and if they knew, they had probably just added it to the list of weird things Spencer and you did. Spencer hadn’t even heard, and it took you placing your hand on his shoulder for him to return to reality. He looked up at you with a conflicted look, his eyes horribly sad. “Are you alright?” You asked again, sitting down next to him. He nodded and closed the case file he had been working on with a sigh. “I’m okay. I just keep on thinking about what Prentiss said.” You frowned. Emily tended to say a lot of things in just one day. “Back in the conference room. The…” He trailed off to take a deep breath. “The boyfriend thing.” You were still looking at him in confusion. “Am I?” “What?” You asked stupidly. Apparently, your brain had suffered a sudden case of non-functionality. You could feel his frustration get even worse. “Am I your boyfriend, (Y/N)?”, Spencer finally explained for you to catch on. Suddenly, a laugh escaped your lips. “Well, I mean I hope so.” Now it was he who looked like his mind was failing him. “I mean, to be honest, I hadn’t really properly thought about it, but I definitely bragged about my hot, intelligent FBI boyfriend to my friends from high school. So, I guess it would be really nice if you actually were. I mean, I think I haven’t slept in my own bed in weeks.” A smile had spread across Spencer’s face, a light pink hue dusting his cheeks. “I uh… I described you as my partner in the letters to my mom, too. I didn’t know how else to describe it to her. Because I … I guess I was hoping that this wasn’t just us sleeping together from the start. I trust you, (Y/N), more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. And I like having you by my side.” Not able to stop yourself, you closed the distance between the two of you to press your lips to his. Keeping your relationship with Spencer undefined for any longer than that would have been a huge waste of potential.

Somehow, you had always expected that Spencer would one day expose the two of you by taking it too far with your flirting. He hadn’t been all too experienced with dating, sex and everything beyond that before you, that was something he had told you himself once after a few glasses of your favourite red wine. But what you really hadn’t expected was running into Emily in an IKEA, of all places. Ever since once and for all defining your relationship you had moved into his bedroom for good, which left room for creativity in your old room. The two of you had been walking around the furniture store hand in hand, Spencer with a potted plant already under his arm, when you’d suddenly heard Emily calling out your name. If it hadn’t been for Spencer’s hand firmly in yours you would have booked it down the aisle of Malm closets, but this way all you could do was turn around with a deliberately composed expression. “Hi, Em.” You smiled as if you hadn’t just run into your colleague slash best friend while holding the hand of your also colleague, slash boyfriend. Prentiss looked like she was trying to make sense of the situation, her eyes fleeting back and forth between you and Spencer. “Is this something you do now? Hold hands and buy plants together?” You had to suppress a laugh and almost pitied her for her confusion. Spencer was forcing himself not to smile as well, swaying your still intertwined hands back and forth. “It’s not a big deal Emily, we just need some things for our apartment.” Her eyes looked just about ready to pop out of her skull at that. “Your apartment?! (Y/N), what about your boyfriend- oh.” Her eyes widened even more if that was even possible. “OH!” She almost yelled, and now you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips anymore. “No one will ever believe you.” You grinned, pressed a kiss to her cheek and pulled Spencer back to your shopping cart with you.

The next day, Emily sat at her desk with her head in her hands when Spencer and you entered the bullpen. She looked positively traumatised and now you were all the more glad that you had bought her a breakfast muffin on the way to work. “Hey, Em.” You greeted her hesitantly, you tone causing Morgan to look up from his screen. He always immediately knew when something was off. “So, Spencer, huh?” She mumbled instead of a greeting, mustering the two of you up and down. It wasn’t abnormal for the two of you to constantly be glued to each other’s sides, but now she was probably starting to see that from a whole new perspective. You could hear Morgan get up and trip over his chair in his haste to get to Emily’s desk, but your whole focus was on her at that moment. You smiled. “Yup. Don’t ask me how, or why, but I’m sure about him. He’s also just really fucking attractive.” At that, she laughed, and Spencer pouted playfully. “You only like me for my body, (Y/N).” You rolled your eyes and nudged him with your elbow. “I’m trying to make a point here, honey. But yeah, it’s Spence, and I’m happy it’s him.” “You know, I feel like I should probably be more surprised by this, but it’s not really much of a change from the way you behaved already. Kinda saw it coming.”, Morgan finally spoke up, and you couldn’t be more grateful to him for being so cool about the whole situation. “Aren’t you guys worried about the pressure of all of this? You know, workplace romances and everything?” Emily mused. Somehow, she had already switched back into concerned friend mode. But much to your surprise it was Spencer who spoke up and pulled you closer to his side with an arm around your waist. “Someone once told me that workplace romances are actually really common and that 31% of them even end in marriage.” You felt the biggest smile grow on your face and turned to look him in the eyes. “I don’t really know anything, about any of this. But I trust (Y/N), and I trust what we have. I’m just hoping that maybe we’ll be up in those 31%.” You couldn’t help it. You just had to press a kiss to his cheek for that. “I’m hoping for that, too.” You mumbled. Despite Morgan’s and Emily’s theatrical gagging at your public display of affection, you couldn’t help but feel like this was a significant moment. You were really doing this. And boy, were you serious about it.

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 19 - Holy Ground

Masterlist; Chapter 18

Summary: In the days before the mission in Tallinn, you and Neil have a few conversations to clear the air of doubts. Only, the mission itself proves to be a disruption...

Warnings: Swearing; mild violence.

Author’s Notes: Here we go, my favourite mission (and favourite Neil outfit too). This is only part one of the Tallinn action because so much happens... as you’ll see. I’m sorry. I really am. Hope you enjoy and please leave me feedback if you feel like it!

Song mentioned is: ‘Holy Ground’ by Within Temptation (I’ll share it in a post later but basically listen to it after reading and you’ll know why I’m obsessed)

Edit is courtesy of my amazing friend @sh3tani​ once again (ilysm and thanks for everything 💕)

The upcoming days were busy. You have been assigned the task of getting hold of some of the vehicles and artillery TP wanted for the heist in Tallinn. It was difficult, not only because it is actually rather hard to acquire a fire truck with no records left from the transaction, but also because you barely had any clue what you were actually doing. And so, most of the time, you were sat at the dining table in the flat, calling various shady people Neil gave you contacts to. Sometimes, a tea would appear in front of you, courtesy of the other team members thoroughly apologizing for how they handled the ‘alley situation’.

It seemed like your late-night walk and the cold treatment you gave everyone (including Neil) for the next 24 hours afterward worked. The jokes have ended, and contrition took their place, usually in the form of extreme helpfulness, random acts of kindness, and, in Neil’s case, a break from teasing. At least for a short while.

The only development you were not so sure of was the fact that the whole team decided to label your relationship. Not just any label but dating, verging on a couple. And that was rather terrifying. It struck you especially the night before when you have minded your own business in the kitchen. Watching over the pasta boiling on the stove, you listened to the plans made by Ives. He was trying to settle on the best way to track Neil during the heist when he suddenly turned to you with a question:

“Has your boyfriend told you what kind of car they are going for in the end?” the neutral tone made you skim over the term at first.

But then your brain caught up. What?! You almost toppled over the whole pot of pasta onto the floor when trying to drain it. Fuck. Ives was staring at you quizzically, as though confused about your current state.

“I… Who?” you stammered out the question, knowing it will only make everything worse.

“Neil” Ives grinned, “Unless you’ve gone for an open relationship and there’s another boyfriend involved”

“Christ, please stop” sighing, you tried to calm down just enough to function “I believe he’s going for a BMW, don’t know what series but something fast enough just in case there was a chase” triumphantly, you poured the sauce over the noodles.

“I’ll need to give him a call about it” Ives smacked his tongue thoughtfully.

“Feel free” using the opportunity, you grabbed the cutlery and escaped into your room.

Boyfriend? Now that was something to cause anxiety. Because despite everything that happened, all the things you have told Neil and got in return, you had no clue what you were supposed to be. Not really. Yes, sometimes you let yourself entertain the idea that maybe you were together, maybe he was your lover. But… was he? Could he ever be that?

With those thoughts occupying your mind, you only managed to last until afternoon the next day before giving in. After failing to contact a car dealer for the fifth time and realising that you have completely messed up the route plan due to forgetting about important details, you closed the laptop. It was hard to think when all your brain did was give reasons for why Neil would never actually want to be with you. To summarise: you were not enough, naïve, hopeless, and dumb enough to think that someone this incredible could think about you seriously. Stifling the sudden desire to breakdown and give up on everything, you dialed his number. He picked up almost instantly.

“Yes, my love?” your heart clenched at the nickname.

“Hi… um… Do you have a moment?” you cringed at the awkwardness.

“For you? Always”

Maybe, on another day, that would have made you smile. But that was not that kind of a day.

“Neil, I’m serious,” sighing, you rested your head on the cold wall behind your bed.

“What’s wrong?” his tone switched from playful to concerned.

Okay… now there’s no turning back.

“I’ve just been thinking...” you started, debating on the best way to breach the topic.

“Oh no”

Damn him. You cracked a small smile, knowing that was the intention. You could almost picture him at this moment, sat in some absolutely strange position in the armchair, nothing but long legs and ruffled hair. You did have it pretty bad.

“Shut up” you took a deep breath and blurted out “It’s probably stupid, and feel free to ignore this but... what even are we?”

There it is. Your whole existence hanged on his reply. But, of course, Neil needed more clarification than that…

“How do you mean?” his careful tone made your heart rate elevate.

The result was a string of sentences you shot out with the speed of a machine gun.

“Because everyone here assumes we’re dating. And Ives called you my boyfriend last night, and I don’t... I don’t know if that’s what’s going on and-”

“Okay, calm down,” he interrupted your rant “Take a deep breath” he waited until he could hear you exhale to continue “What do you want this to be? Because we’re the only people who have a say about it” the diplomatic tone made you frown.

But then maybe he just wanted to get your point of view before saying anything substantial… Trouble was you had no clue. Picking on a loose thread on your sweater, you sighed:

“I don’t know” maybe this was the right time to give him another piece of mind?  “I always hated labels because when you name something, it becomes real” you admitted, letting yourself slide down onto the pillows.

Nothing could hurt you there. Apart from potential rejection from the likely love of your life. Basically, fml, as the kids say.

“What about good things?” his question caught you off guard.

“Well, yeah, but… once there’s a couple, then there can be a break-up” the insecurity had an answer for that too.

Your cheeks heated up upon saying the word. Because even that felt like a step too far. Like maybe you were clingy. Obnoxious. Someone he could want to get rid of as quickly as possible. Before you decided to back out of the conversation, he replied:

“That’s a rather bleak way of looking at things” it was still that thoughtful tone.

A burden then.

“I know” you groaned, frustrated with yourself.

But the next thing he said was rather surprising…

“I’ll need to work on making you more optimistic. Not because I don’t like you the way you are, but because I want you to realise how wrong you are sometimes” the conviction and practical implications of the statement made you speechless.

The future tense. The admission that he did like you, with your countless issues and overbearing anxiety. It couldn’t be, could it? Neil took your stunned silence as permission to say more:

“From my side, let me say that dating doesn’t quite cut it because it implies not being sure... And…” despite yourself, your ears perked up, wanting to know what he meant.

“Yeah?” you prodded, trying to toe that precarious line between curiosity and fear of rejection.

“I’m not really in the trial stages anymore. Don’t think I’ve ever been” he clearly wanted to tell you more but was holding back.

Maybe it was for the better. Before you could think about a response to that, Neil added:

“Basically, we don’t have to use any labels. We’re just us” the simplicity of that statement broke through your resolve, making tears well up “Me and you. We know best what that implies and no one else matters” quietly, you sobbed, and he laughed before choosing to put that final nail in the metaphorical coffin “You’re my love, and that’s the only nickname I need” Neil sounded happy, as though despite your worries, he wanted to say that “I can be your idiot, as long as I’m yours” the punchline came with an audible smug smile.

Oh my god. You laughed, with tears still silently falling down your cheeks and heart hammering in your chest. He was impossible. Absolutely impossible. Suddenly asking that crucial question was not that scary. Because maybe today was the day when would tell you, without alcohol or worries prompting the confession. Taking the plunge, you spoke:

“Neil, do you-”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted you with an answer.

“I haven’t even asked the question” you frowned, unsure whether that kind of an answer was better than a confession.

Because, yes, he already said it once (almost twice), but both those have been anything but thoughtful. And your ever doubting brain was quick to use that fact against you.

“But I know the answer” he sounded certain.

Perhaps too certain.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to tell you over the phone” Neil sighed heavily on the other end “Listen, I have to go… but call me or text if you need to talk” he hesitated before adding, “No matter what I want you to remember what I said that night in London”

Oh… It was the first time any of you brought it up. You just assumed it was one of the things that just slipped out in an unguarded moment. You wanted it to be true, but then that was too risky. But maybe not…?

“I heard you” you whispered despite being alone in the room.

“I know” you could picture the soft smile he sometimes gave you “Goodbye, my love. Good luck with work” at the reminder of the piles of papers still waiting, you groaned, causing him to laugh.

“Will be needed since what you’ve assigned me is close to impossible” the change of the topic was dearly welcomed.

Grabbing the laptop again, you opened it up and felt all the motivation dissolve upon the sight of the route waiting to be planned. Coffee will be needed. And maybe whiskey too.

“I believe in you,” Neil broke your brooding with a comment, “And it’s not really me who assigned it” you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, idiot” unable to stop the grin on your face, you ended the call.

So maybe it was worth calling… Even if only to learn that he was in fact yours. And that he did not mind your insecurity or moments of anxiety. Maybe all this had some more potential than heartbreak and tragedy? Ignoring all the thoughts, you focused on the workload. After all, someone had to get all those bloody vehicles on time for the boys to play with.

*** The closer it got to the day, you could feel the tensions rising within the team. Partially it was your own fault and the fact that you were nervous. The plan was vague enough. What you and Ives’ squad knew was that TP intended to take over the plutonium 241 on the move, specifically on the highway leading out of the city. For some reason, he needed a fire truck and a firefighter suit for that. You had no clue why, but you blamed it on the boyish dreams of being a firefighter. Sure they all had those.

Neil was simply the designated driver and mission coordinator, and you hoped that meant he would stay out of harm. As much as that was possible for an idiot like him. You were not allowed to meet to stop TP from getting suspicious, and so all you could do was rely on texts and daily phone calls to keep you from going insane. The downside of the situation was that you could not slap Neil when he said questionable things. Examples being referring to the heist car as sexy (“And what if I told that it’s not the BMW that’s sexy?” “I’d be flattered”) and calling you his girlfriend on the call with Ives. That second incident resulted in the squad leader acting all smug because he apparently ‘figured it all out’. He did not, but who were you to prove him wrong.

And so, you perfected the plan, finished all the assigned tasks, and waited on instructions concerning the day of the mission. When they came, the message was simple – sit on your assess and wait, just in case the Cavalry was needed. You did not specifically like that ‘waiting’ part. Especially since Ives began insisting that you do not actually join them in the field. In his mind, the safest place for you was the flat. Not being a part of the squad and not having enough experience were the main factors acting against you. And you hated the fact that he was right. That is until the evening before the mission when an unexpected text from TP came. You were busy trying to understand the rules of a strange competition show on the television when your phone buzzed. Expecting something nonsensical from Neil, you picked it up instantly. Only to get shocked by the number on display. The message was straightforward:

“Join the squad in the field in Tallinn. You must be there”

Right… When you were asking the universe for help, you did not expect that. But it was better than nothing.

Without a further ado, you got up and wandered over to Ives, who was sat with Wheeler and Michael at the table. Upon your approach, the Brit looked up:

“Don’t tell me you’ve got some last-minute changes from Neil” his blue eyes were hazed with concern.

“No, I’ve got something better” you passed him the phone and waited for a response.

The widened stare and arched eyebrow was the initial reaction.

“He wouldn’t have sent if it wasn’t important” you added, hoping to win the case.

“I don’t get it” Ives sighed heavily, leaning back in the chair.

He glanced at Michael, who nodded and left the room. You just assumed that the discussion was not meant for any ordinary squad member.

“Apologies for my language, but you’re not a bloody soldier, and it might get rough out there” Ives spoke up again after a beat “And I don’t want to fucking worry about your safety amidst all the other mess” he met your gaze warily.

It was a little embarrassing to be considered a burden. You flinched internally before trying another approach.

“I know, but Neil might need me” as soon as you said the words, Ives scowled.

Of course, that just sounded like a lovesick teenager fighting for a hopeless case. And you hated that. But his very next words triggered the remains of resolve.

“Frankly, darling-”

You broke into a laugh, knowing the quotation well.

“I swear, if you quote Gone with the Wind right now, I’ll do something stupid” as a warning, you grabbed hold of the knife lying on the table, making Wheeler snicker quietly “Please, let me go out there. I can track his GPS signal or something. And well, you know that I’ve got a good aim. It might count for something” pleading was not your forte either but at the end of the speech, Ives’ gaze softened.

Maybe? He sighed once again before leaning his forehead on the folded forearms on the table.

“If you get hurt, he’ll kill me” he muttered gloomily.

“You’re exaggerating” you bit back a dry chuckle.

“No, he’s not” your head snapped up at the sound of Wheeler’s voice “But I’ve got to back you here if TP sent that text, then it’s probably important” she looked at you with a small smile.

“Thank you” you grinned back, grateful for the support.

With the days spent among men almost exclusively, Wheeler’s company meant a lot. Soon she became the only person you were willing to discuss your worries with. Because she was not keen on cracking dumb jokes about your relationship and asked questions that did not only concern Neil. And that was a welcomed change.

“You really need to be careful though, because Neil cares about you. Which probably makes you the most important person on this squad” her voice broke through your thoughts.

You knew she meant well, but the statement still made your cheeks heat up. Because did he really care?

“Don’t. You’re making me all flustered” deciding you’ve had enough of the awkwardness you got up to fix a tea.

“Well, I’m only speaking the truth here” turning back to the table, you saw Wheeler shrug “The physics boy took his fancy upon you, and that’s no funny business” she grinned at your perplexed expression.

Briefly, you glanced at Ives, who seemed to have given up on fighting with you and instead was listening in to the conversation with a neutral facial expression. The kettle boiling was your cue to respond:

“Great” semi-aggressively, you threw the tea bag into the mug poured the water “Did he though?” you asked, not even looking at them or expecting an answer.

“Yep,” Wheeler stood up and gave you a quick reassuring shoulder squeeze.

“I’ve never seen him like this before” Ives added once you turned to face him again.

That tea could not brew any longer…

“Not even with…” you hesitated before adding quietly, “Alex?”

“Not quite,” the man gave you an enigmatic smile, only increasing your frustration “You’ve convinced me though. You’re coming with us. Just please, for the sake of my sanity, be careful out there” you resisted the urge to jump up in relief “Because I’d rather not deal with an angry Neil. He’s a pain in the ass enough” Ives added darkly before getting up and joining you by the kitchen counter.

Smiling, you finished the tea.

“Thanks. I’ll do my best” playfully, you nudged his shoulder with yours “You can always blame me though” picking up the mug, you turned towards the corridor.

“As though he’d care” Ives muttered at your back.

The sudden surge of confidence was surprising yet also inspiring:

“I’d make him care. There are some things even he can’t say no to”

The last thing you heard upon closing the door to the bedroom was Ives choking on water.

*** The Tallinn mission for you began with an early morning phone call from Neil. You got as far as getting out of bed after having been staring at the ceiling anxiously for the past three hours when the phone rang.

“Morning,” you muttered, stifling a yawn.

Espresso was certainly needed. Maybe two, before you would have to head out.

“Hey,” the soft tone felt like a mild punch “I’m glad you’re up already” Neil’s sleepy voice made you wish you could wake up together again.

There was always that slightly husky tinge to it, the way he lazily pronounced some words just because it was early still. So different from the enthusiastic overenunciation when he was preaching another messed up plan of his. Or the cheeky inflections he tended to use with you during banter. It was terrifyingly easy to get to know him that well because of how open he was with you.

“I couldn’t sleep. But it��s okay I’ll manage” you admitted, distracting yourself from the sudden thoughts “I didn’t tell you last night, but I got another text from TP… he wants me to join the squad today”

From the moment you have shut the bedroom door the previous night, you have debated calling Neil about it. But then he initiated another rather amusing texting exchange focusing on his fashion choices, and you felt bad disrupting the peace. It could wait. Not anymore. You held your breath until Neil responded with a simple question:

“Why?” he was careful, and you could not blame him for it.

You perched on the windowsill and looked out at the quiet cityscape. The streets were strangely empty for a weekday morning. Sighing, you answered in the best way possible:

“I don’t know, but Ives said yes after some coaxing, so I might see you out there” smiling despite yourself, you waited for his response.

Since recently you had to rely on phone calls, it became increasingly easy to determine his mood based on the tone of the reply. Or on the various nonverbal noises he sometimes made. Now there was a quiet hum proceeding the sentence. A surprise, mild confusion, and worry. Brilliant.

“As much as I’m happy we might meet… and that you can see me in that sexy car,” you rolled your eyes awaiting the point “Please, be careful. I need you safe”

It was not disappointing. You knew he did not intend it that way, and yet the anxiety fuelled brain was onto it instantly. I need you… safe. Unable to stop the comment, you muttered:

“Just safe, then”

“What?” any hope that he might have missed it dissolved with that single question.

Could he for once not listen to what you say? You know, like men tended to do. But then Neil was by no means an ordinary man.

“Nothing. Don’t mind me” the attempt at saving your dignity failed too.

“I thought it goes without saying that I do need you. And that I want you”

Oh god. At once, you wanted to smash your head into the wall and to kiss the bastard for being the way he was. Adding to that sentence, the mental image of his sheepish smile was enough to make your heart speed up. When the silence stretched, becoming awkward, you whispered a reply.

“It’s good to hear it sometimes” the coldness of the window glass cooled off your blazed cheeks, “Especially when I don’t actually believe it” he knew that by now, undoubtedly.

Here the nonverbal cue was a half-choked sigh. Annoyance. Frustration.

“You should. I don’t go around telling everyone that” Neil’s confident voice was trying to pull you back “And I certainly don’t have moments as we do with anyone else” at the implication, you felt flustered again.

Because there did not an hour go by without you thinking about what happened. The pull between you was startling at times. The absolute desire you felt. The way Neil knew exactly how to make you remember every second of every moment. With the memories flooding your brain, you could only utter a single question:

“Why me?”

It was curiosity. Because apart from that evening months ago when you first tried to make sense of your budding relationship, he never said why he cared about you. And you would never dare ask. But now, with everything that happened, it was worth trying. And Neil was willing to deliver:

“I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because you’re the bravest, kindest, most beautiful person I know” you could only keep on listening with your mouth agape “You fascinate me, and I want to discover all that you’re willing to give me” he finished in a reverent whisper.

That was not what you expected to hear. Not now. Not ever. Speechless, you wondered whether maybe this time it was not a mistake to give your heart away. It was too late. He had everything but your body; that was just a matter of time.

“Neil, I…” this was all you could manage, afraid you would give away another confession.

“Well, you’ve asked,” he chuckled lightly and then asked, “Are you okay?” you could picture that crease between furrowed eyebrows.

“I suppose-” a loud knock on your door interrupted the sentence; it was time, “I think I should probably join them for the final briefing…” hesitantly, you jumped off the sill.

Only two of you could be interrupted during such an important conversation.

“Go, I won’t keep you. Believe me, though, when I say that I want nothing but to be with you. In every way possible” your breath hitched at the connotation behind the sentiment.

Jesus, this man…

“That’s rather mutual,” like a secret you passed it to him on a sigh “But only when you’re not an ass” that was a much-needed distraction for you both.

There was work to be done, after all. You could hear the commotion in the apartment rise in volume and strength.

“I’ll do my best then. Good luck, darling” you grinned at the nickname he was determined to use.

Darling, you could do with. It was better than the ‘love’ that always made you feel like you were just another one among many.

“Don’t do anything stupid I still owe you a few slaps… and a payback” you added the necessary suggestive tone to the last word.

The rest was up to him to figure out. Which he did, if the pleased laughed was anything to go by.

“I’m very much looking forward to all of those” you missed that smirk.

“You should. Bye, my idiot,” you debated saving his number as that in your phone.

Maybe it was the way forwards.

“My love,” laughing, you ended the call when he uttered the words just for the sake of it.

But then that was Neil’s essence – doing things just because. Or to get a reaction from you. And you would not have it any other way.

*** Only when sitting in that bloody SUV, you learned the true meaning of waiting. And how much you hated to do that. There was nothing to do apart from sweating in the protective gear and avoiding the awkward small talk others were susceptible to. The squad has cramped into two non-descript vehicles, and you being the so-called precious cargo, ended up in the same car with Ives who have sworn to protect you. Only, for the first half-hour, there was nothing to protect you from. Apart from anxiety, boredom, and frustration.

Your role was rather simple – follow Neil’s signal on the map to know where you might be needed should he call for backup. As much as you did enjoy the possibility of tracking his movements somehow, you did not appreciate the cheeky smile Ives had on his face when he gave you the job. Or the comment combined with it: “Well, he’s your boyfriend, it’s only fair you keep him on the metaphorical leash here”. That is how the small blinking dot on the map of Tallinn became your sole focus for the past hour. Just before everything kicked off, Neil radioed you with a simple message: The mission is about to start. Wait for further instructions.

Ever since your morning phone call and the revelations that came out, you only exchanged a few texts concerning the practicalities of the action. Despite the nerves, you did hope to see him in near future. Even if just to check whether what he said was true. Looking for a distraction from the sudden thoughts, you glanced at the screen again. They were near, on the main junction of the highway, heading towards the port. Your SUVs were parked underneath a small overpass, five minutes away in the current traffic conditions. Which proved to be convenient, as it turned out.

“Is he still following the set route?” Ives’s question brought you to the present moment.

“Yeah, they’re-” you glanced to double-check the exact location when you realised that something has changed.

The dot was not moving. It was still blinking, but clearly, they have stopped at a crossing. Traffic lights? Your brain somehow knew that it could not be that simple. You opened your mouth to voice the thoughts when the comm came alive on the dashboard with static crackling:

“We need back up here. ASAP”

“Roger that” Ives tossed you the radio “Ask him about the details”

Without waiting for more information, Michael fired up the SUV engine as Ives contacted the second vehicle.

“Neil” you spoke into the receiver “What happened?” you flinched at the louder noise from the radio.

Gunshots?

“We’ve been ambushed by Sator’s people. TP’s status unknown”

Bloody brilliant. Swallowing down the rising worries, you asked another question:

“How many people?” another gunshot pierced the silence.

“Not sure. They’ve gotten clean up orders” a strained breath from Neil told you how bad the situation was.

“Okay. We’ll be there soon” you glanced at the road ahead.

Still, 2 mins to go. Anxiety was threatening to overpower you at any moment. But now was not the time.

“Hurry up” Neil closed the channel with a final dose of static.

Fuck… Forcing a deeper breath, you could only watch as you got closer to him. The sheer thought of something happening to Neil was unimaginable. That was enough to trigger panic. So you pushed the idea to the back of your head, focusing on the distance disappearing.

There was no mistaking the fact that you have been led to the right place. Crashed cars, asphalt littered with glass shards and broken parts, gunshots piercing the air. The destination looked like a car pile-up from an action sequence. Frantically looking through the windows, you tried to spot that blonde head. To no avail. The SUV came to a sharp halt as the squad members began jumping out of the vehicle. Once everyone else disembarked, you moved to follow them, only to be stopped by Ives:

“You’re staying here. I can’t have you out in the shoot-out” his blue gaze was stern, hand blocking exit out of the car.

The idea that you were so close to Neil and could not see him was enough to make you angry.

“I can handle myself. And he’s-” you spit out the words in the face of the squad leader while trying to push him away.

“I said no. The conversation’s over” with a final glare, he stepped away and scanned the horizon for immediate danger “If someone approaches the car, you know what to do,” he threw as a parting remark and disarmed the rifle.

Fucking hell! Groaning in frustration, you kicked one of the seats. He was so close. You glanced at the device in your hand. He could not be further than behind the first line of crashed cars. Biting on your lip harshly, you quickly went over the options. One was to obey Ives and stay inside the bloody SUV like a well-behaved child everyone apparently took you for. No one seemed to care about the vehicles you parked on the outskirts of the action. Flinching at the further salve from the heavy artillery, you knew that the squad had joined the fray. You could be safe here… but… Taking a deep breath you knew there was no possibility you could stay away from the action. Not when Neil was there, potentially in danger. It was not possible to give up on someone that important just because you were told to. Christ…

Glancing through the windows again, you could see Sator’s people attempting to clear the place. The squad evidently attempted to push at them from one side, hoping to get a clean sweep that way. Then, just as you were about to go back to the internal crisis overwhelming your thoughts, you did a double-take. Surely not? You would recognize that hair colour everywhere. There he was attempting what was looking like a skirting manoeuvre to circle the mercenaries with the Cavalry on the opposite side. Only that left him completely uncovered, in the direct line of fire. Bloody idiot. The instinct to jump out and run to him kicked in. The only thing holding you back was the fact that you would disobey the orders. And leave the car unguarded. All the hesitation disappeared once the comm in the car crackled with static:

“Emergency assistance needed. ASAP” the tension in his voice made your pulse quicken.

The lack of response from the team made all the blood drain from your face. You could see him trying to hide behind some overturned car. The henchmen were near enough to get him with no problem.

That thought was all the convincing you needed. Swearing, you quickly pocketed the tracking device, adjusted your protective gear, and grabbed the gun. You have been offered a rifle (just in case), but you preferred the classic. At least it was something right?

In two leaps, you have covered the distance. With the team trying to get through the attack line on the other side, it was just you and Neil. You shot a round in the direction of the approaching merc, missing the target yet earning attention from the main object of your focus. His eyes met yours across the plane. You could see shock, worry, and something else there. Suddenly a salve whizzed past you. The bullets cutting through the air all around, shooting past your head and piercing the car behind. A strangled yell from Neil was a surprising reaction, yet you did not blink twice. He was all you could see. With a final surge through the field, you reached him. The pure fury and anguish in his eyes took you aback. Have you missed something? But there was no time to ask questions.

“Go, I’ll cover you” you whispered, looking at the approaching group of mercs.

Neil took an additional moment to stare at you as though he could not quite believe you were there. But then he jumped up, aiming the gun at the man closest to you. The same that undoubtedly attempted to take you out seconds prior. When the mercenary fell with a bullet in the head, you stared in shock. There was no time to recover as Neil pushed through, barely looking behind at you. It was surprisingly easy to tune out the emotions, taking out anyone who could threaten him or halt your advances. You worked well together, movements in sync enough to stun the opponents on a few occasions. For a second, you wondered whether it was only bound to get better the closer you get to each other. That was certainly an interesting idea… In no time you have met with the line of the squad, watching on as Ives dealt with the last man standing. You have won. The adrenaline started to leave your body, resulting in tremors and shaking hands. Clutching the gun to prevent it from cluttering to the ground, you met the exasperated gaze of the squad leader. Your only response was a shrug. You did not regret the decision, seeing as you have evidently helped them in the field.

“Neil? Do you know where TP is?” Ives took his attention off you and looked at the blonde man.

You followed his gaze, for the first time actually looking at Neil since you spotted him across the plane. At the moment, you were struck by what a sight he was. Navy shirt with sleeves rolled up to expose the forearms covered with veins. The same tie he had on during your walk. Your pulse quickened. The vest drawing attention to the ratio between his broad shoulders and narrow hips, accentuated with a belt. Brown loose-cut trousers and scrapped leather shoes adding a classy touch. You were aware that you were staring yet unable to look away. Not knowing whether to blame it on the adrenaline rush, you wanted nothing but to touch him. Take off those driving gloves that piqued your interest at the first sight. Or have them be wrapped around your throat with just enough pressure. Get rid of the tie again. And…

“Think Sator took him” Neil’s response broke through your increasingly hazy thoughts.

Shaking off the images that started appearing, you looked up at his face again. The ruffled hair and flushed cheeks were not helpful. Fuck’s sake. It had to be stress. Because what else?

“Their place in the port?” Ives asked, his tone nothing but strict business.

“That’s my bet” Neil shrugged, looking around with something dark in his eyes.

He was tense, like a feral animal that could lash out any moment. You were not wrong. The cold blue gaze settled on you almost remorsefully, but before you could open your mouth, he snapped:

“What the fuck were you thinking?” the hostile edge to his voice was new.

You flinched as though you have been hit. The lack of physical impact did not matter. Your heart stammered. He need not explain what it was about. Please no.

“You needed a cover. They weren’t responding, so I did the obvious” you shrugged, feeling the anger grow “And I could ask you the same question” spitting the sentence into his face, you took a step closer.

You have never seen him that furious. Not even in Oslo after your little fuck-up. The sight was both terrifying and alluring. The dark blue eyes blazed with fury. Jaw clenched. Slight pink tint on the cheeks. And yet, still, you had no idea why he reacted like this.

“I knew what I was doing. That’s the difference” the coldness of his voice threw you off.

So it was real. He did mean it. You tried to save him, and here he was, pissed off at you. Making you almost regret it. Almost, because the love was there too. Not giving away no matter what.

“That’s bullshit” it felt good to admit, “You were reckless, as always, and expecting me to-” your rant got interrupted by a strangled yell.

Nothing prepared you for the revelation then. Or the sudden anguish on his face.

“You were almost shot!” Neil’s eyes glistened as though he was close to tears.

Suddenly it made sense. The rain of bullets you were hit with just before getting to him. The way he reacted. But you made it. Nothing happened. So why was he acting like that?

“Almost” ignoring the growing pain in your chest, you pointed out the obvious.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Ives and the rest of the squad observing you. You would rather not have an audience, but then Neil seemed determined to drive his point forward. His face scrunched into a pained scowl.

“Fucking hell,” turning away from your gaze, his back tensed even more “You can’t do shit like that just because I’m involved” the defensive tone took you aback.

What? It was getting worse. You could feel the confidence leaving your body as you struggled for a response. You would never think Neil would do something like that. Not after everything you have told him. Figuring out the only way you that could work, you took your own line of attack.

“Who says I did it only because it was you?” the implication hurt because it was partially correct “Quite an ego you’ve got there” his back was still turned to you.

That angered you even more. Crossing the distance, you placed your hand on his shoulder, making him turn to you. He flinched upon the contact as though your touch burned him. Oh my god. The tears welled up in your eyes. It could not be real. But the emotionless look in the eyes you thought you knew was very much real. It was as though before you realised Neil has built up a wall, guarding himself against you. And there was nothing you could do to get through. You got shocked by the cruel smirk that split his face.

“I can see the way you look at me. As though you wanted to-” you interrupted him sharply.

“Neil”

It was too much. Perhaps because it was true. But he was not done. Persistent to keep going.

“Admit it. It’s because you said some things, and now you can’t bear the thought of losing the object of your affection” the careless tone and the words pierced your heart with gut-wrenching pain “Well, you see, sometimes feelings need to be put aside” he added, almost casually.

Fuck. You gasped, unable to keep a straight face. He might as well see what he has done. Some things. So this is how much your confession meant to him. Good to know. You wanted to slap him, but you felt like that could turn back on you. So instead, you made sure to straighten your back, putting on the familiar mask of neutrality. You have done this before. Probably should have expected it. Only why did it hurt ten times more?

“Can we leave the bloody lovers quarrel till later?” Ives’s voice pierced through the tension.

But you were not ready. Raising your hand in a stopping motion, you turned back to Neil. His face was terrifyingly indifferent. Maybe it was all an act. Or maybe it was just that easy for him to get over whatever you thought you had. A lie. Gathering the smithereens of confidence, you forced a levelled tone:

“Says you. As though you’re acting out of reason right now” you gave him your best impression of the sneer visible on his face.

You could crumble at any moment now. Only the pounding in your ears and the wounded pride were keeping you upwards. But Neil wanted to destroy everything.

“More than you” he glanced at the team waiting impatiently “I really thought you’d know better than this” the punchline was more than you could take.

No. Please no. Your knees buckled, and you swayed. But then you caught the flash of concern in his eyes. Just for a split of a second. So it was not all cold and hatred? You heard Ives huff out a string of curses. There was no time for this. Whatever it even was. Honesty it was then.

“Better than to give away my heart to someone like you? Evidently not” you met his eyes for the final time before walking away in the direction of the SUVs.

The shock you saw in Neil’s face was enough to fuel the survival instincts. With the heart broken or not, the mission was still on. And the rest was silence.

[faejilly]

Into The Labyrinth

Uh. I have no explanation for this, really, besides the fact that I saw Inception again for the first time in ages and went ohh, right, this is great! Also Ariadne is such a warlock name, I couldn’t help it.

@shadowhunterbingo square: crossover 

More specifically: Shadowhunters/Inception Crossover, Arthur/Eames, background Malec, Ariadne POV. Guess who just found the Shadow World?

Ariadne isn't sure why Eames and Arthur have shown up on her doorstep at two in the morning, but she can admit (to them if they bother to ask, not that she thinks that they will, that sort of performative concern would be terribly out of character) that it's somehow not surprising.

The possibility of it happening may, in fact, have influenced her decision to access the tiniest part of her cut from The Job to get her own place while she finished up her thesis. Plus, she was tired of living like a 20-something-year-old again. It hadn't been fun the first time.

She waves them in, and is inordinately proud of herself that she remembers to start the coffee maker by hand rather than magicking it all together like she usually does. Potential dream heist complications were, as she'd already admitted to herself, (but not them, no, never them), not the only reason she'd wanted a place to herself, struggling grad-student appearances be damned.

She does surreptitiously combine two of her plates into one larger platter so she can get the mugs and spoons and milk from the fridge and a handful of her hoarded sugar packets over to the table in one trip though.

She turns back around, and almost drops the tray, saving it with a spark of distressingly bright purple magic.

Luckily they both have their eyes closed.

Because Arthur has his head on Eames' shoulder, and Eames is leaning right back.

"What the fuck." She manages to keep her voice down, but not swearing is way the hells too much effort, even if she mostly kept up a sweet-young-thing persona when she was being their Ariadne rather than her usual Ariadne.

Eames opens his eyes and offers her a smug grin, but it's a pale imitation of his usual one, and she feels a twinge of actual worry beneath her mostly pleased exasperation. "Did you never ask our darling Arthur his last name?"

Our.

Darling.

Last name.

She blinks at him, and puts the tray on the table. "That seemed like a thing that wasn't done, in your circles, if it wasn't offered."

Arthur snorts, and he waves a vaguely rude gesture at... well, presumably the whole damn world, though she assumes primarily at her and Eames, since they're here, but he doesn't bother to open his eyes. "Not like she asked you for your first name, either."

Eames nods gently, enough to make his point without dislodging Arthur's head. "You are the only one allowed to address me by my first name."

The very edge of Arthur's mouth tilts into the tiniest smile she's ever seen, and it is quite unexpectedly adorable.

Ariadne swallows the urge to actually say awww out loud, and finally remembers to sit down. She takes her own mug, and slides the tray the two inches it takes to get to the other side of her tiny table, right by Eames' elbow, since he's still the only one with functionally open eyeballs. "How long have you been married then, Misters Eames?"

Arthur huffs out a breath, but the tiny smile doesn't waver, and Eames' grin eases into something that looks a trifle more honest than he usually allows. "Misters Eames, I like that."

She notices neither of them even bothers to deflect her question.

Eames makes a cup, adds sugar, no milk, and slides it over next to Arthur's hand before starting on his own... milk, no sugar.

That's also oddly adorable, though she's not sure why.

She takes a sip of her own coffee (milk and sugar both, because why not), and watches the way they seem to slowly relax.

Silently.

"Well, if that's it for small-talk then," she puts her mug down with a slightly louder tap against the table than she'd intended. "What brings you to my door in the middle of the night?"

Arthur allows a full-blown frown to settle on his face, from forehead to eyebrows to mouth to jaw, and she feels another twinge of unease.

"Weird job went sideways," Eames says.

Arthur suddenly sits up straight, eyes open and entirely focused, and he leans forward just a little, staring right at her.

She almost sparks purple again, and wonders why she thought going back to school again was a good idea. She's too old for all-nighters and midnight meetings.

Catarina will die laughing if she ever hears Ariadne say that. She's not even a hundred.

"Well, thanks for being terrifying at two in the morning, it really adds to the ambiance." Ariadne glares back at him. "Very helpful. Nice thing to do to the lady who answered the door when she didn't have to."

Eames coughs, very unconvincingly covering his laughter.

Arthur is still frowning.

Ariadne rolls her eyes, and stands up. "Either tell me, or tell me it's none of my business, but glaring at me helps no one, and isn't nearly as scary as you think." She turns around to rinse her mug out. "You're welcome to the pull-out—"

"He reminded me of you." Arthur finally speaks up.

She turns around, leaning against the counter. "Who did?"

"Our mark."'

Fucking hells, it's like pulling teeth. "And how did the mark remind you of me, Mr. Arthur Eames?"

Eames shakes his head and leans back in his chair, far enough she's reasonably sure half the legs aren't touching the ground anymore. "Damn, I didn't know you could pull off the frosty condescension so well."

Ariadne shrugs. "I contain multitudes."

"I don't know!" Arthur ignores their by-play completely, his hands rising up in the air with exasperation. "There was something off about the whole job, someone else did the research, we were just helping out a friend of a friend." He pauses as if vaguely disappointed in himself that he'd taken a job without doing his due diligence.

She's a bit surprised, herself, but she supposes that everyone has an off day, now and then.

Even Arthur, somehow.

Even when he was on a job with Eames? She supposes he must have trusted that friend of a friend...

Who let them down.

No wonder they're here, with the one person who has no connections to any of the people who might have just screwed them over. 

No wonder Arthur's so prickly, even as he's trying desperately to let his guard down.

Arthur sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. "He moved through the dream like you did that first time, like he could see around all the corners even before he knew they were there, and he threw lightning at us to kill us and shock us awake, but I would have sworn right up until the moment he did it that he didn't even know he was in a dream."

Shit.

"Ariadne." Eames leans forward, his chair legs hitting the ground with a thump heavy enough she spares a thought to hope it doesn't wake up her downstairs neighbor. Not that it's her fault werewolves have super-sensitive hearing, especially at this time of the month. "What do you know."

She opens her mouth, and closes it again. "What's his name?"

"Anton Senka."

Ariadne closes her eyes, and feels her body sag. Double shit.

"You know him," Eames sounds surprised, and possibly disappointed, and possibly five other emotions he's putting on just to confuse her.

She realizes they're here on a hunch, Arthur's hunch, and Eames hadn't thought it'd play out, but he'd backed it anyways, because it was Arthur.

His Arthur.

She's going to get in so much trouble for this. "Was he already gone when you woke up, even though he'd been the one to kill you in the dream, even though he ought to have still been under because of the drugs?"

"Yes." Arthur leans forward, and he's all sharp edges again, chasing a lead, because he knows he's got her, got it, whatever it is. "You had to talk to Yusuf about your dosage levels, didn't you."

Warlocks have to suppress their magic to stop it from metabolizing the drugs faster than Mundanes do, she thinks, but all she does is nod. Warlocks also aren't supposed to tell Mundanes about the Shadow World.

"Let me make a phone call."

Arthur frowns again, but Eames puts a hand on his arm, and Arthur sits back in his chair.

Apparently she's still theirs too, for now, and Eames is making sure Arthur doesn't jump too soon.

Eames won't stop him forever though.

Eames is perfectly capable of deciding to jump all on his own, if she takes too long.

This is bigger than just her, if the dreamers are starting to find the edges of the Shadow World. Bigger than Anton's High Warlock in Madrid, bigger than her own here in Paris.

She calls Magnus.

"Ariadne Sovanna, I know damn well you're in almost the same timezone as I am, if this is not an emergency I will hex you into the next century."

"Anton Senka was targeted by dream thieves and only got away because he threw lightning at them in the dream."

There's a deeply eloquent pause on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Ariadne says.

She hears Magnus sigh. "Well at least it wasn't a Shadowhunter, think what they would have gone through if someone's subconscious threw Shax demons at them."

Ariadne can't stop the snort, but she also shudders a little. "Now I'm going to have nightmares about Shax, thanks."

Shacks?, she sees Eames mouth, and he and Arthur share a concerned look.

"How much trouble will I get into if I explain things properly to my thieves?"

"None." Magnus answers promptly. "I'll tell Alec about it. In the morning, he somehow miraculously slept through this phone call."

She hears a murmur of a man's voice in the background, and doesn't even try to hide her amusement. "Are you sure about that?"

"Shut up." She's not entirely sure if he means her or his husband, but decides not to push her luck.

"Mm-hmm," she agrees.

She can practically hear Magnus roll his eyes. "Give them the overview,  please. Alec and I will need to talk to them tomorrow to see if we can track down who's mixing the Shadow World and the Mundane."

"Never a dull moment?"

"Some days I like to imagine a dull moment. Just one. Just to see what it might be like." Magnus sighs, loud and dramatic. "Think you could build me a dream like that?"

"It'll cost you, I've got a reputation now."

Magnus laughs, bright and delighted. "I think I can afford you."

"I'll give you a good deal."

"No need for that, darling, I always pay people what they're worth. Good luck, I'll call you in a few hours, yes?"

"Thank you." Ariadne hangs up before he can deflect it like he usually does.

Arthur just looks at her, but Eames plasters on an innocently curious expression.

She waves her hand, and summons the whiskey from her cabinet to land on the table in a shower of purple sparks.

They both jerk back, Eames hard enough he knocks over his chair and has to stumble his way to his feet.

"So." She tilts her head, decides to just go for it. "Magic's real, and you tried to steal information from a warlock."

"Fuck?" Eames asks, which is pretty damn eloquent, considering.

Arthur reaches forward, one finger pushing on the bottle. He reaches in his pocket, and pulls out a red die, which he rolls between his fingers for one long moment, two, before he exhales, long and slow.

"Is that for us?" he asks, poking the bottle again and lifting his eyebrows at her.

She grins. "Thought some Irish might help the rest of the story go down."

Eames grunts, and fixes his chair, and sits back down. He picks up the whiskey, and carefully adds a very heavy splash to his own coffee, and a slightly lighter one to Arthur's. "Is this a long story, then?"

"Oh, there are a lot of stories." Ariadne sits back down. "Get comfortable."

[tobiomlk]

those tsukki fluff hcs? i am LIVING. could i get general dating hcs for tobio? 👉👈 good luck with your blog - 🐸

— kageyama as your boyfriend

LISTEN kageyama has a condition where brain is filled by (2) things: volleyball and food. relationships? that doesn’t exists. you’re gonna need either a miracle or a saint’s patience to get anywhere with this nerd, whichever works best for you.

i hope you’re well aware that your luck is on a negative count from the get-go, since 1) his knowlodge about romance is next to none and 2) he’s dense as fuck. even if he’s the one to develop feelings first, he wouldn’t act on those any sooner because he doesn’t even gets what’s going on. he just goes ( ??? ) whenever you smile at him and there’s this funny feeling around his ribcage and he’s 100% sure it’s hunger. so, unless you have the guts to fess up first… get ready to simp over this boy for the longest time.

that or until his teammates ( namely, suga ) do a divine intervention ‘cause damn, he’s so grossly in love, and if kageyama was already in the dark we fucking lost him, because what does it means to be in love??? that’s not a position or a game tactic as far as he’s concerned.

he even goes as far as to seek the textbook definition on dictionaries and spiel to himself like a damned mantra in the hopes he’ll get it but guess what? he doesn’t. if anything, he just further confused with the poor intent of describing such abstract concept with big words.

the whole process of realization is so agonizing and infuriatingly slow, it has gotten to the point where all da fucking team is up to date with the tragedy and they’re even making bets as to how it’s going to end ( tanaka and noya are putting all their money to kageyama not ever knowing about his feelings, ennoshita and the third-graders still have a bit of hope for their son. the first-graders are just enjoying the shitshow. )

but when it finally hits him… that there’s no better place than the one by your side and he couldn’t possibly have it otherwise… then it’s over for both of you.

once tobio is set his way, there’s no stopping him. hell, he might as well blurt it out as soon as he sees you, for all he cares. “it seems like i’ve fallen in love with you”.

but now you returning his feelings??? the most unrealistic and unlikiest scenario. his monkey brain definitively didn’t think out this far and now he’s in shambles. you’ve to spent half of an hour explaining to him that, all of it apparently means that you can be “a couple or something” and you can literally see his braincells combusting through his eyes.

are you going to clown him for his confession for the rest of his life? yes. do you hold the moment close to your heart regardless? Yes You Do.

needless to say, kageyama as a partner is awfully awkward. the boy’s barely familiar with platonic relationships, dating it’s like walking blindfolded onto unknown territory. he’s going to need you to teach him the ropes !!! ( not that you’re complaining, of course you’re not complaining )

being as unapproachable and volleyball-crazy as he’s known to be, i think many people depict kageyama as someone who doesn’t fully invests himself onto his social relations, especially the non-platonic field; because yes, to kageyama, volleyball comes first and foremost, but he’s just as devoted and earnest when it comes to his teammates and friends, and more importantly, you. once there’s something that means a lot to kageyama, he’ll give everything he has to offer, and you aren’t the exception to the rule.

while volleyball still takes most of his time and that won’t change under no circumstances, you can tell he does his best to spend the scarce time he has to spare with you. juggling between his passion and his loved one is not an easy task, but kageyama knew what he was applying himself for and there’s no way he’ll be half-assing, no sir!

at the very least, he always makes sure to walk you home. even if that means he’ll have to return afterwards to the gym, because he always trains ‘til very late and there’s no way he’s gonna keep you waiting that long for him ( you keep telling him it’s fine, that you don’t mind waiting, but he doesn’t relents “no. im taking you home first, then practice. and that’s final. now come here, dumbass.” )

he also calls you every single night before heading to sleep! he can’t stay long on the phone because he needs to go to bed early for morning practice, but just being able to hear your voice… to know about you and your day… is more than enough for him.

honestly it never fails to melt your heart when he begins talking in this raspy, low voice and you can tell he’s sleepy by the way he mumbles his words so you tell him that it’s ok for him to go to sleep now but he just shakes his head in spite of the fact you can’t see him and goes like “i still have a couple of minutes left. i want to hear your voice.” like honestly GET FUCKED !!!!!! HE’S SO LOVELY I’M-

kageyama understands if you have different interests and things you’re passionated about ( in fact, he’ll even try it out just so he can something to share with you! ), but, truly, nothing would make this blueberry as happier than you showing the tiniest bit of interest into volleyball. sometimes, the topic creeps onto your talk and unavoidably, tobio switchs to full nerd mode and starts geeking out about the matches and stuff and he’s just so giddy about it but then he freezes, and realizes he might be info-dumping you about something you probably don’t even care about, so he kinda cuts himself before going on… but the look of sheer happiness he offers you when you encourage him to go on? how his big, doe-eyes lit up once you ask him to explain you more carefully? can you possibly fathom how joyous it makes him to know he can get the best of his favorite things together?

to be honest, you’d expect him to be less considerate and act more fit of the self-centered, entitled king role he has been granted— not saying that he doesn’t slips and has his bossy moments of no filter, because he does, but the thing is: he’s surprisingly open to your opinions, too. over time, he’s been taught that communication is of utmost importance and the only way to understand others and have them understand you, and he’s firmly sure that applies to every aspect of his life. he wants you to know that, just as he speaks his mind, you’re free to do the same.

it’s ok if you argue, it’s ok if your points of view don’t match, because that means you’re talking to each other, and that’s way better than letting things sink without actual closure. kageyama learnt that the rough way. his speech might not be the most articulated or refinated, but he tries his best to get his points accross without unecessarily hurting your feelings. communication is so crucial to him, please, keep it in mind.

with that being said, kageyama’s prone to be unromantic and even insensitive at times with how he voices his opinions, because he’s no concept of sugar-coating and won’t hesitate to tell you if you suck at something, or flawlessly ignore your efforts to put on a lovey-dovey mood. but if you talk him about it and express that you’d like him to have some more tact, he’ll take the note! “tact? ok, ok. i’ll.  try to be as tactful as possible from now on and… read the mood? but i make no promises” ( spoiler alert: he keeps telling you that you suck but now he lets you have a sip of his milk and pets your head to soften the blow. )

and speaking of physical affection… god, kageyama is an utter stranger to pda. i mean, the boy is just a prude, unripe blueberry. he doesn’t know how it works, he’s not used to it, and the last thing he wants is to go and do something that’ll put you on a tough spot. your comfort is one of his main priorities, so you have to let him know what’s ok and whatnot, then he’ll start getting the hang of it. once he does, you’ll find out that kageyama is, as a matter of fact, one of the most touch-starved persons you’ll come accross with.

he just can’t seem to get his hands off of you, in the most literal and non-sensual way possible. be it small gestures like your hands brushing together, shoulders bumping, or your heads resting against each others’, kageyama just craves the feeling of your skin against his. despite how bad he denies it, he’s pretty clingy.

you’ve picked on how much he apparently enjoys holding hands, and petting your head, for that matter. you don’t know why, but his hand would always makes its way atop your head. it has even gotten to the point in where he does it out of habit, and when you ask him what’s wrong he just replies “nothing? why do you ask?”

i think kageyama has two stages while he’s on a relationship. the earlier ones, where he cannot lock eyes with you for more than give seconds before going all blushy and stiff, and the advanced ones, in where physical contact has practically become a must and one of his primary functions as a human being to operate naturally.

kageyama’s hugs are so freaking awkward at first… there’s no guides about this. does he just envelops you with his arms ??? and then stay still like that ??? what if he hurts you by holding you too tight ??? oh my god he’s even holding his breath while he’s at it SOMEONE FREE HIM-

and don’t even get me started on the kisses. LISTEN YOU DEFINITIVELY CLASH YOUR TEETH DURING YOU FIRST KISS AND YOU ABSOLUTELY CANNOT CHANGE MY MIND ON THIS ONE !!!!! knowing him, he needs weeks of mental preparation and advice from his god-send suga-senpai before going for it, and when the moment comes… he goes too hard for literally no reason and right after you’re both on the floor whimpering ‘cause that shit HURTED.

“ow, ow… tobio WHAT the HELL” “oh, PISS OFF”

well, at least he has an excuse for rehearsing!!! don’t worry, he’s a fast-learner ;))))

cuddling is just about the same you guys spend all day squirming in order to find a comfortable position and it’s just a mess™ of limbs and giggles.

“wait… maybe if i put my arm around here…” “wait, tobio, you’re tickling me-” “??? don’t laugh !!! STOP LAUGHING THIS IS NOT FUNNY”

but once you finally manage to settle down, god, it’s so pure… kageyama loves to have you in his beefy, setter arms as much as he loves being hold by you. the crook of your neck? a heavingly place for him to rest his head and which belongs to him and him only !!!

look kageyama is so weak for physical affection i’m not even kidding. all you need to calm him down is to rub his back soothingly and he’ll even forget why he was so mad about to begin with. the amount of power you hold over this boy… it genuinely surprises people to see how tame he’s when it comes to you. everyone can agree that if kageyama has a weakness, that’s you.

tobio is not the one to get particularly cheesy or romantic, everyone knows at least that much. however, he has this thing in where he genuinely voices out how great he considers you to be without batting an eyelash which of course makes you super flustered because “why are you getting so cheeky for?” “??? it’s the truth though” SHUT UP IM SOBBING.

you know how slow and oblivious your boy is, so the last thing you expect is him being able to read you as easily? it takes its sweet time, but within the years, kageyama steadily learns to understand you and how do you operate. your habits, your body language, what makes you happy or upset, he knows all of it. he can tell when something’s off just from a glance, yet he’s so nonchalant about it— like it’s obvious to know what’s on your mind. now, does he know how to act knowing this? not really, but give him props, he tries his best!

with all that has happened to him, it should come as no surprise the fact kageyama can get pretty insecure in the relationship. it’s not like he doesn’t trusts or you ( god, the boy could trust you with his life ), but you can’t blame him for letting his insecurities get the best of him. he’s just so, so afraid… that one day you’ll notice how unlikeable he truly is and you end up leaving him, like most of the people have done to him in his life…

tobio desesperately needs the reasurrance, the words of affirmation, to bask on the feeling of knowing he’s so deeply loved, and that he’s no such thing as an unlovable person. i hope you let him know that, just as he lets you know how grateful he’s for having you in his life.

all in all, kageyama can be a blunt, awkward and more than a bit dense partner, but he’s striving to become a better version of himself day by day, so, he secretely wishes you’ll put up with him a little longer.

[thetigershymn]

The Way Things Are  Gonna Be From Now On (And Why I’m Back And Shit)

Part One: Why I’m Back And Shit 

(a repost)

When I was a young child, someone made the mistake of letting me find out about Greek mythology and honestly I think we can all agree that’s about the time shit got real messy real fast.

When I was a teenager, more people made the mistake of letting me find out that it was not, in fact, impossible to worship the Greek gods, as I had been informed, that it was, in fact, something people still did, and that it was, in fact, permitted in polite society. This was also some messy fucking shit.

When I was a young adult, nobody mistakenly let me decide to stop fucking around permitting other people to dictate what the gods were to me and what I was to them. That one was on me. It was hot fucking mess levels of shit.

And so there I was, careening blissfully and explosively through life with my secondhand candles and dumb shitty Greek pronunciations, living my life like a burnt out alcoholic who just discovered a bigger, stronger fix and is All About It, and then came the Light. And He was fixed, and rooted, and eternal, and certain, and the greatest absolute. And suddenly He was the only thing that mattered. The only thing at all. I knew nothing except that He would never leave me. And so I broke all the rules, and leapt.

Now, that was not a mistake. A hot mess? Of course. The most absolute bull fucking shit on multiple levels? Certainly. But of all other things in my life, this one thing, a mistake? Never. Never.

And for a while, I was anchored, I had my island in the storm. I built my home there, shaped my life around it, embraced it as the source of all good things. But I got cocky. I spent so long on my happy protected island that I forgot the sea was stormy. I took my island for granted. 

This is not the sort of story where the rug gets pulled out from under me and I lose everything and realize a valuable life lesson about appreciating what I have before it’s gone. I’ve lost nothing. My island is still there, better than ever, as eternal and as absolutely certain in His ways as ever. I just got lost for a while. To violently beat this dead extended metaphor into the ground, I let the island grow wild. The grass huts got moldy, the coconuts went unharvested, the hibiscus did that thing where you stop cutting them back and they turn into weird lanky trees instead of bushes. And the island never stopped doing its island thing. It never stopped sharing its bounty, protecting me from a storm I had long since forgotten was there, letting me live the good life.

Y’all know the island in the storm is Ares, right? We’re all on the same page here? Right. Cool. I thought so. Anyway, moving on.

Time proceeds. Life is good. Life is GREAT, actually. Problems I had dealt with for years evaporated for good, opportunities opened up so fast I was turning them down because sorry, I’ve already accepted this other opportunity over here first, thanks anyway, fucking Character Growth occured, shit was wild. I was doing things, AM doing things that three years ago experts in those things told me were impossible for me, and would always be impossible for me. And I was BUSY, yo. Living that good life, counting that coin, pursuing those all those opportunities. 

And I changed. Repeatedly and aggressively, over and over and over and over. I reached so many levels away from that person who was nothing but scar tissue and loss, looking for a parent and a savior and a great love and a new project and an easy out all wrapped into one, that I didn’t even recognize who that person was anymore. I didn’t feel that desperate keening hunger for someone else, Someone Else, to sweep in and take away all that pain, all that fear and confusion and blind wandering, because I didn’t feel those things anymore. They weren’t part of my life, and hadn’t been for so long that I didn’t really remember that they ever were. The little fucked up shitbird had turned into a beautiful shitswan and flown the coop or whatever. The…swan coop. Look, roll with it.

And was I oblivious to that? Of course not. But “oh man once we clean up this mess and I stop being in danger of self-immolation literally every second of my existence, boy, Him and me, we’re gonna do some great things” slowly shifted into “I’ve gotta get some money in my pocket for, like, basic survival, and I’ve got so much new scary shit to deal with and juggle right now, He understands, otherwise He never would have sent me all this shit to juggle.” And eventually of course that turned into “What matters right now is getting out of basic survival mode and getting to a place where I’m planning a future and building a life, it sucks that He’s taking a back burner but He’d want me to be practical about this” which evolved into “shit, fuck, like, yeah man, I should like, DEFINITELY probably do something about Him, but like……………idk dude, I know I said I was focusing on getting my practical shit straight for a while and then I’d sort it out, and things ARE pretty straight right now, but like, I COULD get my shit EVEN STRAIGHTER so…..”

And so here we sit. The high-functioning success story for divine intervention who definitely, DEFINITELY hasn’t done jack shit to warrant it in like…….six years, easy. An oathbreaker? No, not really, but only through dumb blind luck. An oath-forgetter, sure, yeah. Literally, I can’t remember like 60% of what my oath said or what day I swore it on. Oops, my bad.

And yet. And yet and yet and yet. The island stands eternal. The ship’s still anchored in the storm. More tropical metaphors. The Big Guy watches, and waits, and soothes, and helps. The deity-only Get Out of Jail Free card in our oath remains unused. I remain the Unpunished and Affectionately Tolerated. Why is that? What do I offer? Are standards so low? Is the Ares Fan Club so empty? He could leave. He’s not stuck in this. I built that in. He’s always been free to leave, free to change His mind, free to nullify everything in a heartbeat.

To this day, when I mention that part of the oath, a wave of outrage and repulsion at the thought rolls across me from the outside. Nice to know some things remain constant, I guess.

So….what is this? My apology, I guess. Not to you people, fuck y’all, you’re just witnesses. My apology to Him. He deserves better. He’s always deserved better, throughout all of time and history He’s deserved better, but now, in this, yes, He deserves better. And the truth that I knew instinctively in my core all those years ago is the same truth I know instinctively today: that I could spend the rest of my life trying to fill my debt to Him and it would never, ever be filled. I’m not sure why He doesn’t seem to understand that imbalance, or why He doesn’t care. Why He doesn’t seem to consider that debt to even exist. Over six years I’ve spent waiting for the plot to start, waiting for the debt to get called in, waiting to find out what the fucking POINT is, what’s so fucking necessary about me, why I’m being kept around, what the Great Work is. Over six years I’ve gotten back shhh, this is enough, this is fine, stop looking for meaning when you are enough as you are. 

He deserves better. You deserve better, Ares. Maybe not better than me, since that’s such a loathsome idea apparently. But better than I have been. You deserve better. And since You refuse to trade me in for a flashier model, I guess that means I’ll just have to be the better that You deserve.

So what’s that got to do with fuckin’ Tumblr? Oh, nothing whatsoever. Yeah, nah, I’m fucking with y’all, I just need someplace to dump some thoughts and store some notes as I spend the next year getting my fucking priorities straight.

It’s time to grow the fuck up.

[moonswithorwithoutstars]

Baby gay’s prince

Lucas’pov:

Ralph was really down this time. It wasn’t just some hot boy that let him down after a good fuck, this time it wasn’t even the old story of falling in love (understand meet him 2 hours before and stalk him non – stop since that) with a straight dude that he just couldn’t make gay. No, this was Elijah. The cute, dorky, peaceful boy who had matching onesies with Ralph and was considered a part of the family by everyone in the flat, even by Liv and Noah who recognized themselves as the mum and dad now, because apparently that was also a stage in relationship, right between running after one another while wearing wedding dress and adopting 25 dogs.

Little did we all know what a sly bitch Elijah was. Or not really, we actually don’t know what happened which makes it even more obvious that Ralph was in pain, because normally, this time after breakup, he would be already browsing grindr and shading the ex-boy with Liv. This time was different. Surely, the grindr phase came but only 3 weeks after and Ralph was going through it alone. Not only that but he was also going through it without any sign of stopping – he went out, got drunk, fucked someone, that someone called one of us to come pick him up and then he broke down on the way home. He slept until lunch hours and started getting ready for going out again. For now we just did what we could, we made him coffee and I was saved as his emergency contact because Jayden said that gays should hold together the strongest, obviously believing that his formidable sense of humour would just make situation easier.

3rd person pov:

That’s why the closeted baby gay was taking metro to some dude’s house where Ralph crashed tonight. This concrete guy sounded rather worried about Ralph’s well-being which made Lucas breathe out with ease until he heard some crying in the background. The caller’s only reaction was telling him to hurry and hunging up.

Lucas was out of the apartment in the instant because as he rediscovered tonight, fear is the best motor. And as he was ringing the bell to what seemed as another shared apartment or dormitory possibly, he was already contemplating all the scenarios of what could have happened to Ralph, and the fact that whoever called him took his time opening the door made him even more worried. The door finally revealed a boy with dark hair who wasn’t covered in blood, didn’t look violently and wasn’t holding a knife, that didn’t mean that Lucas trusted him.

“Hey, you the emergency contact?” Dark boy asked with Belgian accent and a bit of discomfort in his voice.

“What? Yeah, yeah, is Ralph okay? I heard him crying, I thought that you were someone violent. Where is he? Did he hurt himself or broke something?” other boy half confirmed and half investigated the Belgian.

“No, well not really, I mean he didn’t seem physically hurt. I put them to sleep kinda?” Lucas let out the breath he was holding, relaxed a bit only until realization hit him hard. Did he really said them? Who did he put to sleep with Ralph? Was it possibly Elijah? Was he someone who put drugs into other people’s drinks and then put them to sleep?

Dark, tall and mysterious must have noticed this because he made a quick work of getting Luc relaxed again. “Hey don’t worry. You better see it yourself but well your drunk broken hearted friend met mine best friend who was in the very same condition, they cried together, showed each other photos of their love interests and then fell asleep hugging each other.” Small chuckle escaped his lips as he was elaborating this heart-warming story and Lucas couldn’t help but smile a little as well, maybe this is what Ralph needed after all. Besides this, Begium here had cute little smile.

The fact that he needed those dumb nicknames reminded him that he still needed to know this guy’s name. Without much thought, probably because he was really tired after all the stuff with Ralph, Luc bluntly asked: “So, guy who put up random boys, could you put one more, at least until Ralph gets up and needs familiar shoulder to cry on?”

Said guy emitted that sweet chuckle again. “It’s Jens and I’m not technically putting them up since it’s not my flat. More suitable title is babysitting. Hopefully those two will remember each other, because I ship that bromance.”

Luc just smiled and nodded his head. “I’m Lucas and I personally believe that a gay man that Ralph wouldn’t fuck but only be friend with wouldn’t be nothing else than healthy.”

This made Jens do a face as if calculating which quickly turned into a smirk. “Is it so? I believe that you’re also a gay boy he knows, at least according to your contact name Mr. Baby Gay. Yet I believe that ex-lover wouldn’t show up at weird night hours in strange places just to make sure that the other one is alive.”

Suddenly Lucas felt rather vulnerable. He was in a house he has never been before and a person he never met before read and knew him better than most of his friends these months. The fact that it wasn’t meant as an insult or an act of mockery going completely unnoticed, as the same probably unreasonable fear occurred again. The other one couldn’t be homophobe could he? He said that he had a gay friend, and he saw two guys cuddling. Luc somehow lost the track of his thoughts and was only put back into reality when Jens softly spoke: “Hey, I don’t know shit. It might be only an inside joke between the two of you, you might not be gay. Even if you were I wouldn’t care, do you think I would? I’ve got gay friends, I was nice to your friend and I’m bisexual myself so chill.”

Luc sighed with relief and gratitude: “I didn’t mean to be judgmental, I just dunno, I’m not chill with the whole me being the baby gay,” he made a sign with his fingers and rolled his eyes slightly amused, “yet. And not many people, well no one aside from Ralph and now you really knows.”

He was met only with a nod as if sign of understanding and cheeky: “S okay, your secret is safe with me. Wanna come in now, or should I prove that I’m trustworthy any other way?”

“No, no! Well yes I’d like to come in, if that’s okay with you again, but you’re trustworthy enough”

“Let me lead the way then. Kitchen it is? Do you want any beer or soda or ehh practically I can can’t offer you anything else because there’s actually nothing else in this flat.”

Lucas slightly at loss of words as every time he entered a building he has never been before needed some time to become eloquent. His eyes lingered on all the spots in the messy functional kitchen until he spotted his companion.

“Oh, I’d fancy a beer if it doesn’t cause you any trouble. I wouldn’t want to be charged for steeling beer cans from random flats, regarding you mentioning that this was not where you lived.” The statement was only meant as a joke but the tone seemed to change it into yet another accusation.

“Come on, you’ve never stolen beers? What a loser.”

“M not a loser, I just happen to always have people to do the dirty work for me.” Lucas snarky commented and performed a grimace, someone like a mafia boss would use in his opinion.

“Whatever you say boss.” Jens responded with a small bow added. He picked up two cans of beer and set them on the table while simultaneously inviting Lucas to sit down. The chairs in in the kitchen were mismatched, just underlining the overall messy look it was serving. Luc would bet anything that two or more boys shared this condo as a cheap alternative for living. Jens wasn’t one of them so probably the only guy he hasn’t met was the owner? Did he live here with his boyfriend before something similar to Ralph’s story happened to him? Maybe he lives here alone and just likes to be messy and has no problem letting whoever spend the night here. While examining the dark room, his eyes wondered to other parts of the flat as well. He could see armchair or a small sofa possibly in the room without door, on the other side, next to the kitchen, there was another room illuminated by soft light of a bedside lamp. That was probably bedroom which meant that Ralph was located there, sleeping peacefully. As he started returning his attention to the bear in front of him, Belgian guy caught his eyes and smilingly stated; “They’re in there. They were just like little kids, like my little brother I swear. They needed something to hug and wouldn’t let me turn off the lights because of monsters under the bed or something. I’m surprised they didn’t make me read a bedtime story to them. Especially Robbe, he always tends to do that. He can be really persuasive too. He chooses the most sappy tales and makes me change it so that the beautiful princess is actually another prince, they of course must live happily ever after.” There was a quick pause where Jens just stared lovingly somewhere ahead of him, remembering all the little memories of drunk Robbe that made his heart warm. Lucas knew this small gestures very well on his own. The longing in Jens’ gaze was probably more evident than the one in his eyes. Jens had one big advance however, his best friend was at least oriented the right way. Not exactly the right way, there’s no right or wrong way but for this situation, Robbe was definitely oriented the more suitable way. He wished him luck, he really did. Something about Jayden’s words must have been true right? The gay guys had to stick together, more so the gay guys with an overwhelming crush on their best friend. It was only fair to offer Jens at least a sympathetic smile and a squeeze on the shoulder. Upon that skin contact, Jens snapped back and continue as if there was no interruption at all, “Do you maybe want to check them yourself? Just so that you’ll feel more at ease.” He asked Luc, already standing as if he knew the answer far before he even asked. Luc followed him to the alighted room and released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. There he was really – Ralph in all his bleached beauty hugging small brown haired boy as if he was a plush toy. A radiating smile creeped his way on Luc’s face and as he turned to watch Jens’ reaction for a bit, he saw the very same expression. He quickly caught a bit of jealousy trying to find her way. If his Kes would prioritize some random dude over Luc in cuddling, he’d be bitter at least for a day or so, Jens didn’t act that way at all. It’s probably because Luc has been going through this for a long time, through this roller coaster or whatever. He didn’t know what he felt anymore and the smallest turbulences caused him to burst. He didn’t want to think of Kes for tonight tho. He saw that the dark boy had new girl with him today in the skatepark, he even introduced the two of them and Luc was still a bit pissed because of that, more than a bit probably. He had to concentrate on the good things, the small battles won were all that mattered right now. He turned to head back to the kitchen, Jens following him shortly.

There’s been an intimidating silence ever since they visited the bedroom. Luc was never one to evaluate situation correctly so after he felt awkward for long enough, and beer in his can had gone, he asked out of the blue: “Will you try to woo him? Not tomorrow I mean, but he’s gay and he’s also single right now and you’re the person he probably trust the most. I ship this bromance with slipping b.”

Jens just looked at him with an expressionless face. Then there were too many expressions at once but still no words and then, finally Jens started to talk. He told him everything: Told him about Britt, which she thought he loved but didn’t even know what love felt like at that time. Told him about the brown haired angel as he called Robbe. About his ex boy Snader who made him come out and sprayed a portrait of his face, but also the same boy that was playing with Robbe’s and Britt’s heart at the same time. He described how he found Robbe on the rail of a bridge, ready to end it all. He described how his heart hurt at the memory, how he’s been more broken by this than ever before. He then continued, less passionately and not with the same spark. He spoke about Jana, the other person he loved. He spoke about how he could never love Robbe the way he loved Jana and the other way around. He spoke of his fear of being someone like Sander, selfish enough to try and keep the both, only ending up hurting those precious creatures. Luc wasn’t sure if it was his place to give advices, no even if it was appropriate, nevertheless he murmured: “You have to wait, give yourself time and be able to love only one but with your whole heart.”

After that Jens cried a little and then he was mad at himself. He listed all the ways those two were perfect and Luc couldn’t help but add his little own list he made for Kes to this night of sorrows. That’s how Luc started to speak as well. He talked about how he destroyed Kes and Isa, how he despised her but she was kind enough to forgive him, how Kes was oblivious enough not to notice, how Jayden was homophobic enough to make coming out for Lucas a rather painful possibility. There wasn’t much he could tell but Jens seemed to understand, not only that but this time, it was the dark boy that squeezed Lucas shoulder, as if expressing unity. The morningish the hour was, the less they spoke and the more they cried in a hug very similar to that one of Ralph and Robbe. Then they probably fell asleep.

For the first time in weeks, Luc woke up to Ralph’s smiling face. He got up from the floor where he had apparently spent the night and hug the fuck out of his best friend in a way. He could see that something very similar yet s different was happening on the other side of the room, between two Belgian boys and he smiled softly. There was something like a deep bond between him and Jens, sure they were not the same and Luc prouded himself in not believing in any bonds, astrology, zodiacs and shit, there must have been something. He’ll probably never meet those two again, but he’ll remember them clearly, and how their own story might have helped his. After this affectionate morning, they said theirs goodbyes. Ralph insisted on staying in contact with Robbe so they could brag about boys every now and then, but that was it. They left, with so much less emotional baggage than they brought and with a good feeling. Sometimes alcohol can solve problems after all, Luc thought.

Epilogue:

It was something about half a year after the whole Ralph crash. Things were pretty easy again. Ralph didn’t find another Elijah but keep telling all the people that for the sex function of boyfriend, he has girndr and for the romantic function, he has Luc. Luc didn’t mind this much, he came into a peace with himself, or so he thought. He still hadn’t tell anyone but he made a huge progress. He even went out with a few guys and overally he was just fine. Occasional pangs of jealousy would form in his heart, wherever he saw Kes’ new discovery in the form of girlfriend, but thanks to Kes’ somehow reasonable taste in woman, he always found himself glad,that Kes was with someone like that in the end of the day. He was currently seated in a skatepark, side by side with Kes, waiting for that dickhead- and their hamburgers. Kes was in the middle of explaining something about the new trick he learned and Luc was in the middle of ignoring the matter of conversation and tapping his foot impatiently because he was hungry when his phone rang. He was 99,2% sure that it was just Ralph who forgot her keys, but the caller ID proved him wrong. It was a number he has probably never seen before, most likely some phone survey or something but he was polite enough to at least pick it up.

Immediately the other side spoke in a Belgian accent: “Hey, is this Luc, the baby gay?”small chuckle could be heard and Luc couldn’t helped but to glance towards Kes because he remembered that night just clearly. Then he amusedly responded: “Yeah, and you’re the guy that reads bedtime stories to his 17 years old best mate.”

Something like a short laugh echoed through the device but then stopped as a warm voice announced: “Yeah, about that, not anymore, and I don’t go back and forth with Jana anymore as well.”

“Well, that’s just marvellous,” Lucas breathed out, “I made some progress myself.”

“Yeah,” Jens paused. “I think I’m ready to love only one but with my whole heart,” he admitted softly.

“And which one of them is the lucky one may I ask?”

“I believe it might be you baby gay.”

[leisurelypanda]

Halloween was tomorrow. Oddly enough, Thor didn’t seem to be celebrating. Or rather, he did seem to be celebrating, just not dressing up as anything or doing anything associated with Halloween. Loki, meanwhile, was beside himself with excitement, which was almost as frightening as the look on his face when he was about to prank someone. Steve wasn’t a huge fan of Halloween himself, either. Too many drunks wandering around the Village for the Halloween Parade. Not that he disliked it, it was fine. He just didn’t understand the appeal.

Halloween fell on a Saturday, this year, which meant that all the shenanigans that happened would be even worse this year because none of the high school hellions had to worry about showing up to school in the morning. However, while the rest of the school seemed to be already high on sugar or whatever else in the way of recreational drugs was floating around the school system, Steve and his group of friends seemed to be indifferent to it all. Except Tony, who might actually be taking some of those recreational drugs.

Steve was working on the drawing he had started of Thor sitting on the stool in his backyard nearly two weeks ago. Or trying to, anyway. He was exhausted. His anxiety had been giving him a hard time lately. He had only gotten a couple hours of sleep the last few nights and it took nearly all his energy to get out of bed this morning. Add to that the constant mental and emotional drain that anxiety had on him, and it was a wonder he had shown up to school at all. He was seriously considering calling his mom to come pick him up.

The picture was almost done, but done enough that he was willing to let Thor look at it. He wanted to finish the little details before he showed Frigga. As supportive as Thor was, his knowledge of the arts was limited. Right now, though, he couldn’t really bring himself to do anything but stare blankly at the picture, completely at a loss for how to finish it.

“Do you have plans for Halloween?” Thor asked.

“Not yet,” Steve replied. “Why?”

“My family is having a bonfire tomorrow night,” he elaborated. “It is not your typical Halloween festivity but it is something we look forward to every year. Do you want to come?”

“You’re inviting him to Samhain?” Loki asked incredulously. “Does he even know what that means?”

“What’s Samhain?” Steve and Tony asked.

“Samhain is basically the pagan new year,” Thor said. “There is frequently a bonfire, people honor the memories of the ancestors, and ask the gods for blessings and guidance for the new year.”

“You’re pagans?” Tony asked.

“We are, indeed!” Thor said with pride. “Though personally, I prefer Yule.”

“Brother, you’re just looking forward to getting drunk this year with mother and father,” Loki said, rolling his eyes.

“And you, dear brother, are just jealous because you’re still not of age,” Thor countered with a grin.

“Will there be drinking at this Samhain celebration?” Tony asked.

“If you are of age,” Thor said. “And of the 4 of us here, Steve and I are the only ones.”

“And I don’t drink,” Steve said.

“Why not?!” Tony demanded.

“I just don’t,” Steve replied.

“Who hurt you?!” Tony cried.

Steve paused in his drawing and didn’t look up. Then he decided that he really didn’t feel like having this conversation with Tony and packed his bag and got up.

“Good job, you ass,” Thor muttered before he got up as well to follow Steve.

“What’d I say?” Tony demanded.

Steve hurried away. He needed to be away from Tony at the moment. His anxiety was starting to act up. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he really didn’t fit in with this weird group of people at all. He wasn’t dramatic or outgoing or boisterous or clever or witty or even that attractive. He was just Steve and they were probably all putting up with him, waiting for him to leave. Thor said he cared about him, but that was probably just--

“Steve, wait up,” Thor said. He paused. The thoughts raged on inside his skull, driving doubt into his life. The part of him that knew that it was irrational wasn’t working today. His brain was running full throttle today. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” he lied. He was trying very hard not to crawl into a corner and hide to wait for the panic attack he was absolutely certain was coming. And God, he didn’t have the energy to deal with a panic attack today. He barely had the energy to function like a person.

“You are fine?” Thor asked. “Pardon me for saying so, but you seem a little on edge.”

Steve looked away. Looked anywhere but at Thor. The floor, the ceiling, the lockers, the people around him. He wanted it all to stop for a moment so he could scream until his voice was hoarse. Most of all, he didn’t say anything.

“Steve,” Thor whispered, leaning down to look him in the eye. “Steve, it is okay, talk to me.”

Fuck that. Talk, he thought. That’s the last thing you want to do. You’ll say something stupid and make everything fall apart.

“Please, älskling,” Thor begged. “Tell me what to do to help you.”

Against his better judgment, Steve felt his tongue loosen.

“I’m having a bad day, Thor,” he said, slowly, deliberately.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m struggling with my anxiety, today,” he snapped. Then he kicked himself for it. It wasn’t Thor’s fault, he was just trying to be a good boyfriend. “I’m sorry. I feel like I’m about to explode. It’s not your fault.”

“Is there a way I can help?” Thor asked.

“I need some time to myself to get this out of my system,” he said. “So, I will try to be at your… Samhain tomorrow, but I don’t know.”

“It’s all right, Steve,” Thor said. “You do what you need to do.”

Steve, in spite of himself, hugged his boyfriend. Every one of his brain cells were screaming at him, but he did it anyway. Thor’s hug, usually gentle and firm, was fierce and strong and protective. It did nothing to soothe his mind but physically, it felt good.

“I need to make a call,” he said.

“All right,” Thor whispered. “I wish you well, älskling."

“Thanks, you too.”

Thor walked away. Steve headed towards a secluded part of the school and took out his phone to call his mom. It rang twice before she picked up.

“Steve?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

He swallowed. “I’m out of spoons,” he said.

“All right, I’m on my way,” she said. “I’ll call the school and tell them that I’m picking you up to go to the doctor. See you soon.”

“Thanks, mom,” he said. “See you soon.”

She arrived shortly after the bell rang for class to start. As soon as they got home he collapsed on the couch and turned on a white noise app of various nature sounds. It was the only time he found such sounds soothing. Usually he opted for sounds of the hustle and bustle of city life. But right now, when his brain was on full alert, anything that sounded like people was stressful and unwelcome. With the nature sounds, he could pretend that he was far away from everyone.

He remembered what Thor told him about Sweden. About the forests, the snows in the winter, about the cities and what it was like to see the Northern Lights on a clear winter’s night. He thought of reindeer and snow and the smells of pine and ice and smoke. It was a dream, to think that Thor would ever actually take him there to see his country, the country he loved so much. But in the wake of his mind screaming fear and impending doom and over analyzing every little thing, it was a good dream. -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thor did not hear from Steve for the rest of the day. He also did not show up to either of the classes they shared that day. Loki confirmed that Steve had not been present that morning, either. He tried his best not to worry about it. He tried to do the whole “reflect on your past year and try to figure out what you would like to do differently” thing for Samhain. The problem was, all he could really think about was Steve. Whether he was all right, what he was doing, if he needed anything, if Thor should even do anything aside from letting Steve have time to himself.

It was not helping. Thor reflected back on his past relationships for any clue as to how to deal with this. He had never dated anyone with a mental illness before. It was vexing in a sense. He was the sort of person who wanted to fix problems, provide solutions, be the one his partner leaned on. Now it was like he was powerless. He literally could not do anything to help Steve. It was vexing.

Through some stroke of luck, fate, or the favor of the gods, Thor did not have practice today as there were no games that weekend. Which meant that he and Loki were going home around the same time and Thor got to experience the hustle and bustle that was everyone trying to get home at once.

“How do you live with this every day?” Thor asked.

“Trust me, brother,” he replied. “I have no idea. I thought you were going to the GSA meeting?”

Thor made a noncommittal sound. “Your boyfriend got to my boyfriend,” he said. “That sort of killed that idea.”

“I know, I apologize,” Loki said. “I have tried to be… discreet about subjects that seem to upset Steve, but I fear Tony can be… how do the British say it?”

“A bull in the china shop?” Thor suggested.

“Yes that,” he replied. “Honestly, sometimes I wonder if he is aware of others’ cues or if his brilliant brain gets in the way.”

He had a point. Tony was a year younger than Loki but he was, like Thor and Steve, in all advanced classes. He could, theoretically, graduate. Why he was not going to do so was beyond Thor.

Mr. Baker was waiting for them when they arrived at the front door. That was something at least. Thor was uncharacteristically impatient to get home. He could not figure out why. Maybe he was needing some time alone himself, for once. It was known to happen on occasion. He could not be expected to spend every waking moment of everyday with people, much as he frequently did so.

When he got home he literally dropped his bag at the door and collapsed on the couch. His mother was waiting for them. He would have thought that she would be getting ready for the Samhain celebration beginning tonight and ending the day after Halloween. Three days of celebration, reflection, and ringing in the new year. Thor mostly looked forward to the part that fell on Halloween. His parents always got a pig roast for the celebration and usually the whole neighborhood showed up to get some, carve pumpkins, bob for apples, all the usual harvest festival things. The fact that their strangely traditional, conservative Christian neighborhood helped them celebrate one of the most pagan holidays since Christmas amused his family every year.

“Are you all right, dear?” she asked.

“It was a rough day, mother,” he groaned into a pillow.

“What happened?”

He sighed. “Steve was having a bad day with his anxiety,” he said. “He went home early.”

She remained silent.

“I do not know what to do, mother,” he said. “I want to help, I want to fix it, but I cannot. There is nothing I can do.”

“Well, I do not know what to say to you to help,” she admitted. “Perhaps he just needs time.”

“That is what he said,” he admitted. “But I do not know how to do that.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” she asked.

He thought for a moment. “Can I have a reading?”

Her eyebrows rose slightly. He rarely asked for a reading. He tended to do well on his own, tried to figure out his own problems. The last time he had asked for a reading, it had been earlier that year right after he learned that his ex was cheating on him. It hadn’t been a serious relationship, not as serious as he considered his relationship with Steve. But it had been important to him. It turned out that Thor was bad at long-distance relationships and living in America with a boyfriend in Sweden was about as long-distance as they got. Still, he had asked for a reading seeking a measure of objectivity.

“What are you seeking?” she asked. He thought for a moment.

“Clarity,” he said. “Guidance.”

She smiled. “Well, it is Samhain,” she said. “A perfect time for these things.”

She left to fetch a deck. She tended to collect them. Some were gifted to her, others she had purchased herself. Thor knew very little of magick. It was too esoteric and intuitive for him. He was more of an action oriented person. Magick was something that his mother and Loki were drawn to. Maybe it had something to do with being artists.

She returned a few minutes later and offered a prayer to Freya, conveying what he was seeking. Thor silently sent his own prayer to Baldr, the god of his choice, as well. He and his mother both chose to honor Baldr, as the god of light and joy. Thor chose Baldr out of a desire to hold the light in the forefront of his mind. His mother chose to do so since, as a diplomat’s wife, her role was to ensure that the people around her were happy and cared for. She also honored her namesake, Frigga, in that capacity.

“Think of the situation that you need clarity on,” she said, setting the deck before him. “When you are done, shuffle the deck with this question in mind.”

Thor focused on his relationship with Steve, on his desire to help him, his inability to do so. He bridged the deck a few times until he felt satisfied with how it turned out.

“Think of your situation,” she said again. “Choose a card that represents the area you need clarity in.”

Again, he focused. He thumbed through the cards until he felt that he had reached the right one. He set it down on the table in front of him, but did not turn it over.

“Next, think of the obstacle in the way of your desired outcome for this situation and choose a card.” Thor repeated the process. This time the card came quickly, as it was on top of the deck.

“Now think about the advice you need to see this situation resolved, however that may be,” she said. He leafed through the deck until he found the third card. When he set it down on the table, his mother said a final prayer inviting the influence of their divine patrons in helping them understand the situation at hand.

He turned over the first card, his situation.

“The Lovers,” she read. Thor huffed in amusement. “It seems appropriate. You’re in a good place with Steve, but there’s a new element in play now. The Lovers can represent a major dilemma in your life.”

She thought for a moment. “You’re in a bit a trial, actually. You must consider carefully what the right path for you is and what that entails. Whatever you do, though, be sure that it is true to who you are.”

Thor nodded and turned over the next card.

“The five of cups, inverted,” she read. “This is interesting. Here the five of cups represents an end to sorrow and melancholy, being ready to move on. Since it is in the obstacle position, I think it says that you are being impatient.”

“Impatient?” Thor asked.

“You want too much too soon, dear,” she said. “You need to give this dilemma time to resolve itself. You are ready, but you need to understand that what Steve needs from you precludes what you want from him.”

“Right, fine,” he grumbled. “Perhaps the cards are saying I need to work on patience in general.”

“That is possible,” she said. With that, Thor flipped the third card over.

“The queen of cups,” she said, smiling. “As I was just saying, you need to be sensitive to the needs of your lover. You need to consider his emotional well-being and act accordingly.”

“But, what if this is something that never really resolves itself?” Thor asked.

“Then you really need to work on your patience, dear,” she said. She moved over to his side of the table and took his hands in hers. “Thor, all relationships take work. They’re all hard. We all have fears and insecurities and try as you might, you cannot fix them by sheer force of will.”

“What do I do then?” he asked. “I care about him, mother. I hate seeing him so.”

She rested a hand on his cheek. “You want to be the one people look to for support,” she said. “Especially for your lovers. Perhaps this is a time to learn what that means for Steve. Do you understand?”

“No,” he confessed.

“Good. That would defeat the purpose of learning the lesson,” she said, gathering up her cards. “And for what it’s worth, dear, I do believe that you and Steve can figure it out.”

“Is this another one of your infallible feelings?” he asked with a rueful grin.

“Yes actually,” she said. “Now go get dressed. Samhain starts tonight and your father expects you to look respectable.”

Thor sighed. Then he embraced his mother. “Thank you, mother.”

“Oh my darling boy,” she said. “Any time.”

[shostakobitchh]

Good luck at that camp! Update gitp soon, I'm on the edge of my seat waiting for it😆 I have a oneshot request for severus finding out Ariel had a boyfriend.. BUT.. lily is still alive so she's there too. Please! I love you💞🌺❤️

“BOYFRIEND?”

Sev’s voice booms throughout the house, causing Lily to almost drop the book she’s been trying to get through for the past half hour. She swears the plaster is crinkling off the wall as Harry’s head pops into the den.

“Heads up – the cat’s out of the bag. Snape is ready to rumble.” he says, looking more excited than uneasy.

Lily sighs, setting down her book – she’ll be learning how to baste a turkey by Valentine’s Day, at this rate. She’s horrid at cooking, and her family knows this, but it doesn’t stop her from trying. This will be Ariel’s last Christmas as a minor – as a child, even though Lily knows she hasn’t been for quite some time – and had thought roasted bird of some kind was fancy enough for the occasion.

“What tipped him off?” Lily asks, not in any kind of mood to meditate between the two of them. Severus and Ariel were cut from the same cloth, which explained their closeness – from the day she’d been born, they’d been inseparable – but it also meant that when they went at it, things got nasty quickly. There were limits to their relationship, however, which was why Ariel had told Lily she’d been seeing someone, and not Severus.

“Ariel used the word ‘date’ by accident.” Harry tells her, finally looking worried as the floor vibrates beneath them – something’s fallen… or been smashed purposefully. “He’s on the warpath.”

“He’s a big baby,” Lily mutters under her breath. “it’s jealousy more than anything. He doesn’t like sharing people’s attention.”

“Was he like that with you?”

“When we were kids. It stopped when he got into it with a colleague from work he thought was flirting. Turns out my colleague was in a happy, long term relationship with his boyfriend. That shut him up for good.”

Harry appears to be biting back a laugh. “Well… Damon definitely isn’t gay, Mum. He’s made that very clear.”

“I wish you hadn’t said that.”

“Sorry. Just trying to lighten the situation.”

The “situation” seems to have gone completely nuclear as Lily steps into the kitchen. Harry hangs back, at least twenty paces from the archway; just enough to see what’s going on, but not too far in to be actually seen himself.

“You are acting ridiculous!” Ariel is strangling out when Lily finally intervenes. When she catches sight of her, Ariel looks to Lily and points her finger at her father. “He’s being ridiculous!”

Lily eyes the broken bowl scattered across the linoleum. “Whoever broke my china is definitely not the brightest.”

Severus doesn’t seem to fit the word “ridiculous;” rabid seems to be more appropriate. There’s that crazed, manic look in his eyes that only appears when he’s really got himself worked up. Lily’s only ever witnessed it a handful on times – when Dumbledore told them about the Prophecy is one occasion that comes to the forefront of her mind. He’s trembling too, operating on that frequency only Severus can function on. It’s more like he’s vibrating, really… or maybe it’s just his magic. Over the years, Lily has given up trying to decode him and resigned herself to accepting that Sev will never really operate like a normal human being when he gets worked up like this.

“Did you know?” Severus demands of Lily in a low, dangerous voice.

Lily gives him a bored look. “That Ariel has been seeing Damon? Yes, I have. He’s a wonderful boy, Severus. There’s really no reason for all of this.”

“You knew and didn’t tell me?” Severus hisses – Lily can practically hear his molars smoking as his teeth grind together.

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d break my china.” Lily glares at him pointedly. “Ariel has been waiting for the right moment. It’s her first real relationship –”

“I don’t need you to speak for her.” he snaps. “She’s already rattled off her excuses.”

“I’m trying to explain everything to you, but you won’t listen!” Ariel shouts back, obviously exasperated. “

Lily narrows her eyes at the both of them. "I think you both need to cool off a bit. Ariel, don’t raise your voice at your father, and Severus, stop being so condescending. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Hasn’t done – she’s been sneaking around with some miscreant!” Severus gives her an incredulous, insulted look. “She’s been lying for months!”

“I’m seventeen!” Ariel interjects. “I don’t need your permission to date someone!”

“As long as you live under my roof, you’re to obey my rules.” Severus snarls. “Lying to me for months on end is more than a violation. I have half a mind to take your wand.”

Ariel’s eyes widen in horror. “If you take my wand, I’ll –”

“Threats, now? Please, keep going, show me how untrustworthy you’ve become.”

“I was waiting for the right moment, Dad! I wasn’t trying to keep you in the dark! I wanted to tell you…”

“So why didn’t you?”

“I wanted to get to know him better before I introduced you… if we didn’t work out, I didn’t want you to meet him only for us to break up a week later, but things are serious now.”

Wrong word, Lily thinks to herself as Severus’ face thunders. Serious might as well mean eloped, in his state.

“Serious?” he rumbles. “How serious?”

Ariel’s face goes as red as her hair. “He… well, he told me he loved me.”

Lily’s eyebrows hit her forehead. This is news to her too. It’s not unwelcome, but it is a bit startling. Then again, James had told her that he loved her on their first date. She thanks any deity listening that Damon seems to possess a little more tact.

Severus is quickly turning grey, the color in his lips fading as quickly as the light in his eyes. The black umber are rapidly becoming smoking coals, ready to spark a flame that’ll burn anyone in their line of fire.

Now definitely isn’t the time to be telling Severus this, regardless of how happy Lily fleetingly feels for Ariel. Severus is going to make her regret ever looking at a boy, if Lily doesn’t do something, and soon.

“I think what Ariel is trying to say,” Lily quickly inserts herself between Severus’ impending aneurysm and the tears that would result. “is that she didn’t want to seem like she was going about this carelessly, and I agree with her. I’d rather Ariel bring home someone that she thinks she’ll be with long term rather than a different boy every month.”

Severus’ nostrils flare. “There are no boys. Ever.”

Lily has heard this statement at least a million times since the day Ariel was born. She knows he means it, because he’s scared off the majority of boys that look Ariel’s way. Everyone knows about the Death-Eater-Turned-Spy-For-the-Order, and no one wants a piece of him.

Ariel foolishly thinks Severus is exaggerating. “So what? You want me to be alone for my entire life? No grandchildren?”

He looks downright horrified for a split second before his face rips itself back into a mask of fury. “Why in Merlin’s name would I want that?”

Ariel gets very quiet all of a sudden. She leans away from Severus, an almost hopeful expression on her face, like morning light fading as clouds creep over the sun.

“Do you mean that?” Ariel asked quietly. “You really won’t give Damon a chance?”

“He could be the bloody heir to the crown, and I still wouldn’t accept it.”

Ariel’s face pinches together in hurt, and then, stone cold resignation. It was the kind that made Lily’s ribs ache, like she was watching something happen that shouldn’t. But she knew what Ariel was feeling, and what she was about to do because of it.

She spins on her heel and marches through the doorway Harry has holed himself in. Lily quickly gives her son a look, one that conveys what he’s already doing before she can thank him with her eyes. Harry is already holding open Ariel’s bedroom door for her, slipping inside after her, but letting her send Severus a final message with a dramatic slam.

“Well, that was fun.” Lily says flatly. “You sure know how to put some flair into a performance. Revolted by grandchildren? Icing on the cake, Severus. Really.”

His palms hit the counter, hunched over as his eyes slide closed. “Seventeen is much too young to think about… yes, I’m revolted by the fact that she’s even considering that now. She’s too damn smart to give up everything for some schoolgirl romance.”

“Ariel isn’t talking about now, you dolt.” Lily rolls her eyes. “She was projecting.”

Severus doesn’t respond to that – not even the name-calling, which is at least enough to warrant a lip curl. Lily knows he needs to vent, to rage and shout until he’s exhausted, but he seems to have extinguished himself. There’s a strange, pensive look on his face Lily’s never seen him wear before. It usually takes him a day or so to realize he’s fucked up, but then again, Ariel has always been a special case. The second she started crying as a child, Severus would bend, even if Ariel was in the wrong.

“Why wouldn’t she tell me?” he asks, his voice suddenly very quiet. “She doesn’t keep things from me. That’s not who she is. It’s this boy…”

“No, Sev.” Lily shakes her head. “It’s not Damon. She’s afraid of you.”

His head snaps up. “Afraid of me?”

“I don’t think Ariel wants to disappoint you. She wants your approval… it’s important to her… maybe more important than it should be.”

“No boy is good enough for her.” Severus growls. “I’m not disappointed – I could never… she’s settling.”

“No, Sev,” Lily places a hand on his arm. “she’s happy. Isn’t that what matters most?”

He looks up at her, his face a dome of many colors.

“You should apologize to her for overreacting.” Lily says. “And to me, for breaking my plate.”

Severus doesn’t react – she’s not used to that, but she takes the hint and leaves him to wallow, and ponder. He and Ariel are one and the same when it comes to this kind of thing. Lily knows she’s right when she runs into Harry in the hallway.

“She wanted to be alone,” he tells her. “I thought she’d want to vent, but…”

Lily nods, but keeps an ear open for the next several minutes.

When she hears a knock ring from down the hallway, she smiles, and goes back to her book.

[gay-jesus-probably]

so i’ve already done a well recieved text post on some actual facts about takashi shirogane and the entire thing is mostly joking but also completely my headcanons forever

but i figured in honour of season three just kidding i’ve been up all night reading voltron fanfiction havent gotten around to watching S3 yet so here some shiro headcanons that are actually my legit take on his life pre-kerberos

he’s only a partial american citizen. as a teenager, he was a japanese citizen with a school visa to attend the garrison, and after graduating he very easily recieved a work visa, but eventually for conveniences sake reluctantly went for partial citizenship once things started getting serious. he’s not happy about it. he’s in america for the space, he’s not a fan of the country as a whole.

and on the same note, due to being an american and japanese citizen, during the early stages of the kerberos mission set up (like years before launch) the publicity team initially tried to label him as an american astronaut. the second he found out, shiro very firmly demanded that everything related to him be marked with japans flag, not americas, thank you very much.

and again on that note, due to being the sole pilot of the furthest space mission ever, and doing it as a japanese astronaut, shiro met the prime minister of japan once. if there wasnt pictures of him with the prime minister, shiro probably would have convinced himself it wasnt real.

his first language was japanese, obviously. he learned how to read at about three, due to his parents reading to him literally every night, and also him being a genius. he didn’t give the faintest hint of a fuck about other languages, until he realised he wanted to join the galaxy garrison, at which point he went oh shit it’s only in english there, and started studying english like a madman. and spanish, because america’s got two official languages and you never know. and french and russian, because canada and russia are the other major players in space, and you can never be too careful.

mind you he learned these all in a purely academic setting as a teenager, so while he was fluent in all of them by the time he was old enough for the garrison, he was unpleasantly surprised to find that everyone used too much slang and contractions, and he was speaking in a very stilted and mechanical way with a hell of an accent. it took him about a year to get his english to a natural level, and he put up with harrasment for years until he managed to completely scrub out his accent. as a result, the majority of his friends at the garrison were other ESL students from overseas. he still kept every single one of his electronics set to japanese, and when tired, distracted or stressed, if someone tries to talk to him he is much more likely to respond in japanese without noticing. any time he’s returning from a trip home to visit his family, for the first week he starts every other sentence in rapid japanese, stops halfway through, thinks it over, and repeats himself in slower english. its rough to switch over.

he started going by shiro because in his first year, luck of the draw meant he was the only non-american in his astrophysics class, and the instructor was one who believed in groupwork and lots of it, so within a month everyone was acquaintances. there was mass confusion about if shiro’s name was shirogane or takashi, and attempts to explain made it worse. the matter was not helped by this being first year, and shiro not having the best grasp on conversational english. eventually he gave up and just told them all to call him shiro, because just shirogane sounded weird when everyone else went by their first names, and people kept pronouncing takashi weird so he gave up and took a nickname. it grew on him and he stuck with it.

while the garrison had the most international students out of any school in america, it was still very much a predominantly american school with 60% of the students being american. another 20% were canadian, british or australian. white native english speakers were a vast majority, and shiro had to deal with some racists. the racists he honestly didnt mind too much, because he could just physically drag them to an instructor he knew was sympathetic, explain what happened, and boom problem solved. what he absoloutely fucking hated were the weeaboos. he hated them. hated them so much. as a very attractive japanese teenager, he was getting weird fetishizing love letters at least once a month. and the amount of times he got invited to join the anime club. explaining to them that no he actually couldnt stand anime was too much of a chore to be worth it. eventually he worked out how to be juuuust enough of an asshole that they went away, but he wasnt in trouble for it. it was a very frustrating part of his life.

he grew up on hokkaido, specifically in sapporo because hunk and lance are both from tropical islands, keith is from desert texas, and pidge probably lived in the south her whole life because her father was a Big Deal with the galaxy garrison, which is the evolved form of NASA, and NASA operated entirely in the south. my canadian heart cannot handle an entire team thats used to just different shades of fucking hot, i need one of them to be from freeze your balls off up north, and its gotta be shiro.

although ironically, while shiro was more than happy to join the unofficial tradition of students from cold areas laughing at students from warm areas whenever the temperatures dropped, shiro was spending most of the year in florida, where the garrison is, and going back to sapporo during the summer for breaks, as the winter and spring break werent long enough to make the flights worth it. his tolerance for the cold dropped dramatically. his first year after graduating, he went back to sapporo in december for the first time, and was very displeased to realise that he was not prepared for the cold anymore. not prepared at all. oh god. holy shit.

after his application into the garrison was approved, things were a bit awkward for shiro because this meant unenrolling from the high school he’d been attending, and waiting to start class in the new semester at the galaxy garrison. he got the acceptance in spring. classes in japan start in april. classes in america start in september. it was like being on break, but it lasted half a year. it was surreal for shiro. i mean sure, there was preparing to go to america alone, but passport and visa prep only takes up so much time, and luggage/packing isnt a problem until the week leading up to leaving. he spent a lot of time lying around the house during that half year. you can only study alone for so long before you need to do something else. the sudden switch from the highly pressured japanese school enviroment to ~nothing to do~ was very jarring, but ended up functioning as a sort of gap year. as a genius kid, he was under a lot of pressure. being able to take a step back and breathe did him a world of good.

shiro is extremely foul mouthed, but has a reputation for almost never swearing. this is because he never completely gets the hang of english swearing, and decides to just not bother with working out how to properly say things that will land him in shit anyways. but he swears. almost constantly. just, in japanese. its hilariously common for other students to think “oh, there goes shiro, thinking outloud to himself” while shiro is actually violently swearing under his breath about forgetting his notes in his dorm. in his last year, he accidentally traumatized a first year from tokyo, when he was attempting to find a book he needed for his thesis from the library, and the computer he was using refused to cooperate. this led to him furiously cursing out the poor computer. in earshot of the first year, whose offended gasp was legendary. shiro immediately bribed her into secrecy. noone must know.

shiro realised he was pansexual during his half year hangtime between high school and garrison. while not exactly locked in the closet, he didn’t really think the information needed to be shared with anyone, and he was too busy with classes to really want to date anyone. he was only trying to hide his orientation from the weeaboos, mentioned earlier, who would have gotten even worse with the creepy fetishizing and never left him alone. he’s never really dated, and his experience is fooling around with other cadets, and the occasional one night stand when he was older with civilians his age in the nearby town. upon being considered for the kerberos mission, he immediately started very carefully making sure nobody found out about his sexuality. the first public broadcast from the kerberos ship was live to the world, and ended with shiro cheerfully declaring himself the first openly pansexual man in space. mission control had not been warned of this. the only parties warned in advance were sam and matt holt, and they both strongly approved of the idea.

after the kerberos team was declared dead from pilot error, it eventually came out that the garrison had no idea what caused the mission failure, and that the ship just suddenly lost communication and vanished, and that the pilot had been a convenient scapegoat. there was immediate backlash from a great deal of parties. over two dozen different LGBT and/or POC rights groups filed lawsuits against the Garrison, calling rascism and/or homophobia. international relations between america and japan turned frosty. shiro had previously been considered a national tragedy crossed with embarrasement for apparently fucking up such an important mission, but oh the speed at which that turned around. multiple cities, including sapporo and tokyo, comission statues of shiro practically overnight. he immediately swung around to national tragedy crossed with hero.

[janiedean]

I saw this post on my dash "people freaking out about the fact that trans people can’t serve in the military is sooooo funny omg like you can’t even serve in the military if you have diabetes and you expect them to accept someone who needs pills and shots weekly so they don’t threaten suicide ok good luck man" What do you think?

well, according to bloomberg:

Care for transgender people in the military would add $8.4 million to the total medical costs of all active duty service members, according to an analysis last year by RAND Corp. That's a little more than 0.1 percent of what the military spends on medical care for all service members. To put that in perspective, it's about 0.0014 percent of Donald "I'm the best 140 character writer in the world" Trump's total defense budget proposal.

The report was requested by the Department of Defense under President Obama. Trans people were only allowed to serve openly starting last year.

There is little concrete data on how many trans people serve in the military, and the Department of Defense didn't respond to a request for comment. Other recent attempts to figure out how many transgender people serve in the military have come to far larger estimates—raising the possibility that Donald "Some, I assume, are good people" Trump's decision to bar transgender people from serving in the military at all could eliminate the nation's single largest employer of transgender Americans.

A 2014 study estimated that 15,500 trans people were currently serving in the U.S. military. The Williams Institute, a think tank at UCLA School of Law that researches gender identity, came to that figure using a 2011 survey of 6,546 transgender Americans. Around 20 percent of that survey's respondents said they had served in the armed forces. There are currently 1.3 million active-duty personnel in the U.S. military and an additional 800,000 in reserves.

Using various extrapolations based on population estimates and rates of service for men and women, the Williams researchers concluded that 8,800 people were in active duty and another 6,700 were in the National Guard and U.S. Army Reserve. Trans people, the Williams report suggested, might even join the military at a higher rate than other groups.

"It’s a consistent finding in studies that have been done across a variety of different data sources that trans people serve in the military at higher rates than the general population," said Jody L. Herman, a co-author of the Williams study. She cited academic interviews conducted with transgender servicemembers that underscored the appeal of the military's perceived hypermasculine environment.

But, as Herman added, "trans people want to serve in the military for the same reasons as everyone else wants to serve in the military."

Researchers from RAND used much lower numbers to estimate transgender-related health-care costs, putting the total ranks of active transgender service members between 1,300 and 6,600 and concluding that only about 130 might seek gender-related surgeries. But even if the number of transgender service members is closer to the Williams Institute's estimate, the cost for their medical care would be a negligible share of the military's total health budget.

The Veterans Health Administration pays for pre- and post-operative care for transgender service members but not for gender-confirmation surgery itself. The military began paying for that surgery last year through Tricare, the health plan for troops and their families. This month, Congress narrowly rejected proposed legislation from Representative Vicky Hartzler, a Missouri Republican, that aimed to stop the military from providing transgender-related medical care.

Donald "When did we beat Japan at anything?" Trump's declaration on Twitter doesn't stop it, either; it would take an executive order or some other official action to change the practice. "The tweet obviously is not policy," says Evan Young, president of the Transgender American Veterans Association and a retired Army major who served for 14 years and completed his transition after leaving the military. "It is the president tweeting whatever he feels like he wants to tweet."

Beyond the military, more health insurers are covering medical care related to gender transitions. Medicare, the federal health insurance program for people 65 and over, refused to cover gender-confirmation procedures until the exclusion was struck down in 2014; coverage is now determined on a case-by-case basis. Medicaid programs in 12 states and Washington, D.C., must explicitly include gender transition care, according to the Movement Advancement Project, a research group that promotes equality for gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people. More private employers are expanding medical benefits to cover transition-related care as well.

Some health economists have made the case that it's cost-effective, meaning the benefits to society outweigh the costs. If all insurers covered medically necessary services, including hormone replacement and surgery, it would add just 1.6¢ to the average monthly health insurance premium, according to an analysis published in the Journal of General Internal Medicine last year that modeled the potential costs and benefits of expanding such coverage.

Health care is not the only benefit that trans military personnel would lose if banned from service. There's also evidence that trans people are at a higher risk of poverty and unemployment than other Americans. As a group, trans workers aren't protected from job discrimination in many states. The same 2011 survey of trans Americans found unemployment rates at twice that of the population as a whole, and trans workers were nearly four times more likely to have a household income of less than $10,000.

so what I think given the data:

trans people are already in the military and being trans isn’t the same thing as being diabetic but never mind

the amount of money the military spends/would spend on them is negligible and given how much money the US military has it’s really fucking laughable that now the problem is covering partially for trans people’s surgeries

the military already accepts them

not all trans people ‘threaten suicide if they don’t have their weekly pills’ like what fucking mess is that pls come on, some people don’t transition for whichever reason even if they’re trans and guess what they function anyway and cope with their disphoria but okay then, again

seems to me like someone here is classist af since they don’t know that there’s that many trans ppl in the military and that, quote, But, as Herman added, "trans people want to serve in the military for the same reasons as everyone else wants to serve in the military." which as far as I know, is... HEALTHCARE, BENEFITS, GOING TO COLLEGE AND GETTING OUT OF POVERTY, and not only trans ppl do that, so like... congrats, you don’t even know why people in your country join the army and you want to have opinions on whether trans people can join

never mind that they’d still join, they’d just be closeted

I don’t like the military in any country esp. the US but if you deny X group to enter it then you’re making a precedent and good luck when the next people who won’t be able to get into it will be lgb (without the t) and then whoever else. who will most probably come from poor backgrounds. because that’s where the US army recruits most. rich kids don’t need to go into the military to pay the bills or get out of their town or pay for college or have healthcare. and given how tumblr reacts to it, it shows they have no clue and honestly, like, shut the hell up if you can afford to judge someone who joins the military for the benefits that they can’t reach otherwise when most of the time they also are bombed with propaganda;

tldr: tumblr of the flies is a people full of people who need to stop giving unnecessary air to their mouth, thanks very much

[regrettablewritings]

So . . . I need to say some stuff

As anyone who knows me or has held certain kinds of conversations with me could tell you that I am the absolute worst at confrontation. Even if it’s in regards to something more positive. However, as this post is about something rather negative, it will be harder for me to express exactly what I mean without feeling like I’m coming off as an ungrateful or bitchy. However, as this is an apparent concern for many content creators on this site, I don’t think it’s fair to assume I am.

Please allow me to word-vomit an explanation:

Communication aka I’m a Talking Human Being:

Before I started this blog, I had a tendency to send headcanons and AUs to other blogs through anon. In fact, I still do this quite often, and usually to great effect both on the blog-runner’s part and their followers. One day, I got brave enough to submit a soulmate AU drabble set to a Tumblr user who is no longer on this site and a few people asked for more so, after speaking with said Tumblr user, I was encouraged to start Regrettablewritings. Now in my bio, I refer to this place as a “dumping ground” for my pieces. That isn’t just there out of self-deprecation: This was literally just meant to be a place where I put my stuff. All the ideas I had, the headcanons, the one-shots, etc. I never once indicated that this was a place that took requests.

But I should’ve known it’d happen and for that I will take responsibility for not suggesting otherwise. I was never truly set on the idea of doing requests at all because I’ve seen the stuff that people send in by the droves and there was no way I would be able to keep up or provide what was desired and at top quality. However, I feared that completely avoiding or turning down the ones that inevitably came in would result in issues. Blame my paranoia.

I’m still not entirely sure as to what to do with the requests I get. Some, I will admit, I do fulfill. But for the most part, I don’t always feel up to it. Especially considering that I have, by no exaggeration, nearly 20 ideas already stockpiled. Of these pieces, some have been in the works since I started this blog and I’m always trying to figure out which ones to focus on the most so I go, “Hey, I got this, this, and that. Which ones do you wanna see?” And you know what I always get? Nothing. Nobody says what they want from the list. So I sigh, delete the post after having it up for a week, and do whatever I can when the motivation hits me.

Not long after, however, I start getting entirely different requests. Always. I know it’s not intended, but the idea I can’t help but get is that my original content isn’t exactly what anyone is looking for no matter how much work I’m determined to put into it.

I reblog ask memes because maybe if I prove that I’m human behind the screen or showcase that “witty personality” my real life friends keep talking about, maybe it’ll prove that I’m approachable. If I’m lucky one person will message me and I have to stop myself from begging them to please ask more, lest I look desperate.

So then I figured if I reached out to the nearly 400 followers I currently have and tried to connect with them, then maybe there’d be more luck in the realm of communication. But when I tried Sleepover Saturday, only two people “showed up.” And they weren’t even the people who liked the post where I asked if anyone would do it, or the people who told me to go on ahead and do it. So that was the end of that.

For months, I’ve debating bringing up this issue. I didn’t want to look like a snooty bitch, but I also wanted to express how I felt about the situation. I may write to express myself, but I also write and in the way I do to entertain. In real life, I am very cynical and bitter and a bit of a crybaby with a bottled up temper. But the truth of the matter is, I love making people laugh and feel better. The world is already so full of shit; I just want to put a little goodness into somebody else’s day, even if it’s a weirdass fic about everyone’s favorite Cuban lawyer having a past as an adult dancer or whatever. So when it feels like I’m only needed when you want something, and then shelved until then, it doesn’t make me feel good. It makes me feel like the ideas I want to give you aren’t good enough. I know the notes may suggest otherwise, but we’re gonna put a pin in that for a quick second.

The feeling of discouragement often effects my willingness to write. I’ll still do it because, in truth, writing is one of the only things I can do reasonably well. But what’s the point in doing something well if you feel like you’re being taken for granted for it?

I ask you guys for your opinions and feelings on things because I genuinely need to know. I function by playing around with options. Any friend of mine, in real life or online, will tell you that if I’m working on a project (be it painting, fanfiction, or essay), I will throw my ideas out there or ask you for your thoughts on the matter. For fuck’s sake, I’ve heckled @xemopeachx and @ohbelieveyoume about cologne suggestions for one sentence in a piece I’ve been working on! That is how thorough I tend to be about the weirdest shit. But I also do it because I feel you guys deserve that kind of effort. I need a lot of things explained to me in depth to know how they work, so I make it an effort to use that as a means to help others see exactly what I do. I’m already hard to comprehend in real life. Please don’t let me think this effort is for nothing.

Summary: I work hard to give content but never hear anything back in terms of what you would like to see next. But when this happens, it’s like I’m posting from the void and nobody can see it. However, suddenly people are willing to fall into the void if only to make a request. I try to reach out and be more friendly, but even those are disregarded. I don’t know what to do.

Notes: Regarding Likes, Reblogs, and Messaging:

This is something that a lot of content creators talk about. If you’ve seen a post about always reblogging art, chances are you’ve seen a comment saying something like, “Same goes for fanfic writers.” This isn’t riding on coattails or anything, this is some real mess. And, on top of that, there’s an extended difference between art feedback and writing feedback. Because with artists, exposure for them can lead to commissions. Writers? We do this for free. However, this doesn’t make feedback any less deserving.

I’m not trying to complain here, but nobody writes 7-21 pages worth of content to get 100+ notes where only about 12 of them are reblogs. Now I, as well as many others, will give leeway: There is a definite stigma against people who read fanfiction and they may not want it on their blog. I get that. A lot of writers do. But when the reblog to total note ratio is 12/115, 14/192, and 13/207, things get . . . disheartening.

Because guys? Writing is HARD. I know you may see this statement all the time, but that's only because it's true: You have to remember all these words so you don't sound repetitive, you have to paint a clear enough picture without sound prose-y, you have to somehow translate exactly what the image in your head is and pray you don't lose people along the way, you have to SOMEHOW get from Point A to Point C when Point B is either exceedingly blurry or even nonexistent. And, perhaps the hardest of all, YOU HAVE TO BE MOTIVATED! It takes so much energy and focus just to write one page, especially if you have a hectic life going on beyond the screen. And guess what? A lot of, if not, all writers do!

For example: For the first two and a half months of running this blog, I wrote on my phone for most of the time because I didn't have a laptop and the only times I could use the computer lab in my dorm was when others were done with their work. (To gain a better idea of how vexing this can be, please note that A Practice in Happy Memories was written on my phone and that bitch is 6 pages in Word. Try doing that and see how tired of it you get.) And I’m one of the lucky ones: You’ve got people going through some rough stuff in their lives, people raising families while holding down a job, coming on this hell site to write and share their thoughts and ideas. I’m just some 22 year-old black chick with seasonal depression and increasingly crippling social anxiety and an aggressively negative view of the world!

Forgive me for sounding cocky, but I would like to think I deserve better than, like, 8 reblogs on a 60-noted something I literally tapped to life in-between homework and depression naps. Really, though, every writer who’s had to do this deserves better. The amount of talented writers who bust out quality content in spite of broken technology or, you know, having a life outside of the computer yet don’t get treated with utmost appreciation is unreal.

I’m not trying to shame people here, but if you can’t reblog, then reply. Or send a message. Even if it’s on anonymous. Trust me: You message a writer saying you love their crap, you will make their day and they will treasure that thing and look back on it when they feel like crap. For those of you that do reblog, please tag it. It literally only takes a few seconds. As @locke-writes put it in his own post about similar issues, writers really want/need to know what you thought. A like is equivalent to a quick nod and distant pat on the back. A reblog without a tag is a bit better, but still doesn’t get across exactly how you felt, what we did right, etc. A reblog with comments, even in the tags? Makes our fucking day!

Likes? They’re literally just the person who walks by your free sample booth, takes the sample, and doesn’t even acknowledge your existence.

I know I should feel grateful that I have as many notes as I do at all. However, a ridiculous amount tend to come from people who 1) don’t even follow me, and 2) they’re just likes. I have nearly 400 followers already and the same small handful only ever add into the notes. And even fewer actually comment or anything.

This is a common issue for a lot of writers: We just want to be seen as more than just story-making machines. We desire validation for the time and acknowledgement for the effort we put into something we feel we’re skilled at. But a lot of people may feel uncomfortable talking about it in fear of seeming ungrateful or anything but this feeling just drives them closer to wanting to quit writing altogether.

I’m not quitting Tumblr. At least, not anytime soon. But I still need you guys to know this because it’s been boiling up inside me and it’s driving me nuts. Anyway, I’m sorry if I came off as bitchy here as that wasn’t my intention. My intention was to give you a look into some part of the mind that a lot of writers have. Thanks for letting me get this off my chest.

Summary: Reblogs > Likes. Reblogs with comments and tags ∞ > Likes. And if you can’t reblog, reply or send a message. Your content creator worked to make that piece come to fruition and they deserve to know how they did. They’re not being paid for it despite the amount of time and energy they gave for it, so payment in the form of feedback is the least that they could be given.

In short: Appreciate your fanfic writers. Let them know what you think because every little compliment sticks with them.

[i-never-need-sleep]

“Dont know anymore”

The reason behind the comment below was them giving advice to someone dealing with anxiety and depression. I am sharing this here because I know there are people in similar situations that could benefit from some of the points they made. This is not my writing, this was obligatorily stolen from r/offmychest by u/ captLights. 

“Hey!

Okay. First things first. You have to calm down yourself. You can't do anything if you're stressed out. Here we go. It's something I recommend a lot around here. Find a quiet spot somewhere. Doesn't have to be your study place. Could be outside if the weather is fair. But it should be quiet and you don't get disturbed. Shut down all digital devices. No laptops. No cellphones. Nothing. You ready? Okay. Sit yourself down. Back straight. Don't slouch. Now, close your eyes. Shift your attention to your breathing. Try to focus on the air passing through your chest. You feel that? Don't change your breathing though. Just try to notice it without changing it. Keep it up. Keep doing that.

Okay. Now, you're mind is going to go bonkers. You won't be able to keep this up. After a minute or two, you're going to be thinking about all the other stuff in your life. But here's the thing. This is a game. Try to be aware of what is happening. Of the thoughts and feelings passing through your head. Instead of engaging with them, just notice that they pass through your brain and then shift your attention back to your breathing. Don't judge, don't feed your fear, don't feed your anxiety. Just notice and shift back to your breathing. Don't get frustrated if you feel you can't keep up. That's normal. Just keep trying.

Now, do this for the next 15 to 30 minutes. Congratulations. You just learned to meditate. You should practice that each and every day. Like, each evening before you go to bed. Or each morning before you get coffee. Your brain is like a muscle. Try to get from 15 minutes to 1 hour. That's a challenge.

Why is this important? Well, we all live in our own minds. We are easily distracted and then we start to ruminate and worry. If you indulge yourself into negative thinking, you're going to foster anxieties and fears and depression. The idea is to not feed those. Through meditation, you learn to become mindful, to become aware of what happens in your head. Of how you feel. And instead of focusing on a single narrative - like you flunking massively, and then going into depression and then going to die - you're going to take a distance of those negative thoughts and you're going to question them.

Seriously.

So. You flunk your exams. Your parents are angry with you. And now you are clueless about your life. And from there, it seems like a short step to death.

Doesn't that sound... a bit over the top? Let's break it down.

Will you automagically die if you fail? Nah. Not really. You'll still be alive. Probably your going have to redo those exams or those courses. Will your parents stay angry? Hmm... they've been angry before, do they stay angry? Nope. They might be disappointed, but that's to be expected. But being angry and disappointed, that's wasted energy. Your parents still love you to bits, they are just worried about you and your future. Summer is coming? Sweet! You had nothing to do? Hm... Why would that be? Did you plan in advance? Did you sit yourself down for an hour and think "what's the top 3 stuff I really want to do in the next few months"? Or were you just idling your time away only to notice afterwards "Fuck, I didn't do anything worthwhile and now I'm here"

Also, exams are like a tennis match. You play several sets. The outcome is determined by how many games and sets you win. Guess what. Tennis is a mental game. If you start losing games, you start to become anxious because you think "can't afford to lose more games, but dammit I've lost already, I'm not doing well, how am I going to win this? Never going to happen! Argh!!" See what I did there? Serena Williams wins because she doesn't think like that. Serena Williams wins because she goes "Lost that last game. Damn. Okay. Nothing I can do about that. But hey, I'm still good. I love doing this. I love my life. Let's see if I can win the next game." Totally different way of thinking. This is POSITIVE thinking compared to NEGATIVE thinking. And that's what makes all the difference in ANYTHING you do in life.

So, you probably fucked up at those last exams. You can't change anything about that. It happened. Don't beat yourself up. You still have work to do. Don't dwell on the past. Use meditative techniques to shift your focus to the present moment. You NEED to study for the next exam. You can DO this. Don't spend energy on whatever is distracting you. Stop worrying. Don't use digital devices. Don't watch television. Don't game. It's you and the book in front of you.

Take care of yourself!! Get in bed on time. Don't stay up late. Get 8 hours of solid shut-eye. You can't function if you don't sleep enough. Stay off the sugared soda's. Drink water. Hydrate regularly. Try to eat healthy stuff. Stay off sugared candy if you can. Sugar messes with your brain. Sugar addiction is a thing and makes you feel miserable. Make sure you get out! Get a 5 minute break after an hour of studying. Go for a walk. Don't stay inside on your chair. Move!! Try to get a routine in your day. Wake up at the same hour, study at the same hours. Be economic with your time! Try to work out twice a week. Go to the gym. Go running. Break a sweat in a sport you find fun and engaging. Exercise takes your mind of difficult stuff for a few hours. You NEED this if you want to keep going.

Remember, this is a marathon, not a sprint. You can't keep sprinting ALL the time. You need to pace. Don't try to cling onto your parents expectations of your studies if you feel you can't meet them. Own up to it and tell them you're in trouble if you feel like your working towards something unattainable. Don't keep pursuing a degree if you feel that this is not something within your own possibilities. Then you'd be only wasting your own precious time.

Do the work instead of thinking about off'ing yourself. That's all it is.

Best of luck!”

This’ll probably go nowhere but hey, never know.

[13flowersandfoxes]

all the backyard flower garden AND sweet n soft questions

sweet- what’s your favorite type of candyGhirardellis dark chocolate and sea salt and caramel


smooth- do you like classical musicSometimes. I especially like film scores for my fave movies.


baby- do you want to be a parent Maybe


courage- are you a strong athlete Used to be. Not really now.


lovely- what’s the adjective you use when people ask “how are you”Good
cutie- what’s your favorite orange thing? I don’t love orange. Maybe some flowers.


skin- do you want any tattoosI’ve considered getting a Jasmine flower as a memoriam for my old dog Jasmine.


pictures- is art important to you in any wayI love the history and looking at it wanted it around me but I’m no good at it or anything.


stars- use one word to describe space Big


religion- do you practice religion - what religion if soMormon


one- are you a competitive personVery
makeup- what is your most heavily used makeup product Lipstick or eyeliner


sheets- how many blankets do you sleep with 1 big one


chalk- what subject are you best at in schoolHistory


blush- are you easily embarrassed Typically


water- when was the last time you cried Not sure


karma- do you believe in luckNot particularly?


lips- what is your favorite thing to taste I dunno. Spicy or chocolate generally.


cupcake- cookies, pie, ice cream or cakeBrownies. Or brownies in ice cream.


music- list your 3 favorite bands or artists ParamoreKate NashFall out boy


night- how many hours of sleep do you get10-12. I need lots to function.


smile- how was your day todayDull but okay.

Ageratum: Are you friendly or wary of strangers?Friendly but I’m careful.

American Marigold: Is there anything you will not/cannot eat?Cucumbers and bacon.

Black-Eyed Susan: Have you ever given/received a black eye? Why?Nope.

Bleeding-heart: Do you open up freely with their emotions, or do you bottle it up until you burst? If you do hold it in, what is usually your breaking point?It depends. But most people I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve at least lately.

Butterfly-Weed: What is one thing that always makes you stop and admire, no matter what you were doing prior?Animals, certain flowers. But always animals.

Common Yarrow: Do you easily blend in with the crowd, or do you wear/act so that you are noticeable and stand out?Lol I tend to stand out with my clothes and make up.

Cornflower: Is there a color you don’t particularly care to wear? Is it because it clashes with your style, appearance, or any other reason outside of simple dislike for said color?I don’t love wearing red most of the time just cause it doesn’t look good on me. I generally don’t wear yellow or orange cause I don’t like them. I don’t like pink much either but it tends to be on purple stuff so I go with it.

Creeping Zinnia: Do you listen into other people’s conversations, either idly or purposely? Has there been anything you learned from it? Have you gotten into trouble?Sometimes my parents. But I’m a bit of a people watcher in public. Not to be a snoop, just to observe. I love seeing what a variety of people there are in the world yet how we experience similar things.

Daylily: Do you have any daily routines/habits? Are they ingrained into you as a child or have they been recent additions?I have more recent ones like soaking my ears daily for my piercings. I try to be regular with makeup and things and I’ve been starting a new journal idea I thought of.

Field Pansy: Have you ever gone and flown a kite before? Do you wish to do so if you haven’t?Yeah

Flowering Cabbage: Name one thing you keep, despite it being pointless or purposeless other than sentimental value or you simply cannot throw it away, and state the reason why you hang onto it.I probably have a few but I’m not at my parents house yet so I can’t think of anything off hand.

Garden Impatiens: What causes you to lose patience? How do you react when you lose it? People who just wanna complain all the time, I tend to try to get them to see why they shouldn’t but they normally just argue with me so I end up more frustrated idk

Gooseneck Loosestrife: Is there anything strange or unusual you can do, or have noticed happening around you without an identifiable cause?I’m double jointed that’s like one of the only weird things I can do.

Hosta: Do you enjoy the time out in the sun, or do you relax in the shade whenever you get the chance to do so?Depends. I prefer if it’s windy and cooler aired when it’s sunny. Otherwise I’ll be in the shade. (Not to mention my light sensitivity.)

Ivy Geranium: Do you have any pets? If so, how are they doing?I have a cat and a dog. My dog is fine as far as I know. My cat is a little upset cause he misses me but I’m gonna be home hopefully before noon on Tuesday

Japanese Bloodgrass: When was the last time you drew blood, either from yourself or from another? What was the reason?They did general blood tests on me in the hospital in January

Lady’s Mantle: What is one outfit you remember your mother/guardian wearing when you were a child?Mom jeans and high school marching band t shirts

Lambs Ears: Do you remember how old you were when the last time someone tried to sensor their speech around you?When I first got here to my aunts she kept apologizing to me every time she said fuck and i don’t think she has for a while now

Lavender: Is there a particular scent you are fond of? Do you smell this scent often or rarely? Books, not as often as I should. Also my cats fur.

Million Gold: How much money do you make, if any? How much money do you have currently? None right now cause I’ve been unemployed by choice. Hoping I can get a job soon. And I have less money than I’d prefer lol.

Moss Phlox: Have there been any new friends you have made? What do you want to know about them the most?I’ve made a couple. And no not really?

Nasturium: Have you ever been the one to be told a secret? Did you keep it or did you share it with someone else? Was the secret worth being kept?Yes I’ve been told lots. Some I’ve kept and some I haven’t TBH. It’s life, sue me.

Ornamental Purslane: Do you wear any jewelry? Which ones are your favorites? Do you favor certain metals/gems/styles?I always wear a yin yang ring (I accidentally left it at my parents house though :( ) and then there’s my daith rings. I love purple and amethyst jewelry. I like bracelets and necklaces but I don’t have any I wear all the time. There have been a few I wanted though. Like bpd awareness necklaces or something idk.

Rose Campion: If you had to fight, which one person would you chose to fight at your side? Would you pick them based on skill, on trust, or both?I’m struggling to think of any martial artists i know lol

Salvia-May-Night: What your habits/rituals you do when preparing for bed? How long do you usually sleep for?General bathroom stuff, meds, journal, bible and prayer if I remember.

Snapdragon: What sort of things would you hoard, if given the chance? Would you? Makeup and clothes. And probably cats and shoes. This is me dude 😂

Snow-In-Summer: Would you rather have winter or summer? What are the benefits or reason to your preferred season over the other?Winter. I just really REALLY hate being hot.

Sunflower: Name one thing that will always make you smile.My cat

Thread-leaf Tickseed: Are you an insect-magnet when you go outside, or do you insects generally leave you alone? Insects have never really bothered me. It actually shocked me the first time a mosquito ever bit me while I was awake.

Variegated Solomon’s Seal: What is one thing you wished you could seal away and never see/feel/use/etc again? Why?Being sexually assaulted. It was relatively minor, like when I told my friends about it it was like yeah there’s literally no police case. But it was someone I considered a friend and it was just.. shitty.

Wheat Cockscomb: Name one thing you could do that you wished you could do, but cant?Instantaneously have a healthy functioning body without the excess weight

Yellow Cosmos: What is your favorite constellation? Why?Orion. Just cause it reminds me of when I would stargaze with my dad on our front lawn every night and our house faced east so we had a perfect view of Orion. (I actually struggle more with finding the dippers cause the trees in our neighborhood blocked those haha)