#but yeah nothing gets set in stone with these projects

[the-takosader]

Far shorter post, this time around.

Mostly detailing little ideas that I've had in the past few weeks, but have no idea how to go about them, or why I'd want to go about them in the first place.

Our first candidate is actually a mod I thought of: modifying a Jazz Bass to have 3 pickups. Now, sounds normal, right? Right up until I delve into the little bits. See, I had this thought after watching the R30 concert. From there, you can likely guess which bassist inspired this thought.

In short, this would be modifying a Jazz Bass (most likely a kit, modding a guitar you spent ��2k on is not something I feel good about) to have a Rickenbacker neck pickup, most likely a high-gain, but a toaster would be good for those extra vintage tones. Now, people have generally noticed that specifically Jazz Basses and Rickenbackers have similar kinds of thud and twang to them. Hell, 44 years on, we're still arguing the toss about which songs Geddy used the Ricky and the J-Bass for on Moving Pictures.

As an aside, my personal opinion on that matter is that he uses the Ricky for Red Barchetta, and every other song on Side 1 is the J-Bass. Back to it, though, this is my basic comp idea for the thing:

I'd have done a better job making it transparent, but Word's Background Removal is good enough for the purpose I need it for. Anyway, this mostly stems from the large amount of similarity between the two basses, in terms of punchiness. The main difference is that the J-Bass has more midrange, while the Ricky has more low-end growl. That's my experience, anyway.

In my head, I've got a couple names for this, but the one that feels best is the Jazzbacker. Also, in case you're curious, I took the neck pickup and toggle switch (which I imagine would be mounted akin to a Jazzmaster or modern Mustang, with the toggle going parallel to the pickups instead of perpendicular) from an image of a vintage lefty Rickenbacker 4001 from 1980. Why is it lefty? For no better reason than Shits and Giggles.

There's also things I've had ideas for in passing, but not directly thought of as "Oh yeah, I'll do that!" For example, now and again I'll get the idea to build an 8-, 10- or 12-string bass, for reasons beyond my understanding half the time, but nothing ever comes of them. Sometimes, it pops in my head when I'm playing my bass, and try playing something like Jeremy or Achilles Last Stand (yes, it's written like that; I thought there'd be an apostrophe in the title, but no). As for why my first instinct is to build rather than buy, the reason 9 times out of 10 is that no one offers a decent option, no one offers the option at all, or they did and ended up discontinuing it later down the line. The 1 time out of 10 that none of those are an issue, the factor at fault ends up being money, or a lack thereof.

So, back to the matter at hand: what would I design this dual/triple-course bass to look like? On the one hand, I could be sensible, and go with a pre-established shape. On the other, I could do something incredibly wacky, like basing it on the Crusader. Or it could forever stay in my mindscape, never to be built. Who knows.

Now, you might be wondering why this isn't an addition to the Ideas Archive. Quite simply, it's because I can't be arsed adding onto that until there's a big enough change, such as, y'know, something actually being finished? No word on how long that's gonna take, aside from "it'll take as long as it'll take", which is probably the most accurate and least satisfying answer I can give.

Also, slight correction to the last post: apparently we were right in the first place??? For anyone finding me for the first time through this post in specific, the last post was an update on my scratch build, talking about how it started, how it's going, where we're up to, et cetera, et cetera. I mentioned how we ended up thinking it was iroko, because of the coarse and interlocked grain.

Yeah, uh, that turned out to be wrong. It was, in fact, mahogany the whole time. And to be honest, we should have expected this. A thing to remember about wood is that they can be used for a multitude of things based on the "quality" of the cut. If you're going to have an ornate piece of furniture, you're going to want high-quality cuts. The result of this, of course, is that the lower quality cuts, the stuff that might be a bit too difficult or annoying to work, may have an unappealing grain or something akin to those qualities, all those cuts get used for stuff where you won't generally see the grain.

Now, where would you not see the grain on something wooden? If it's painted over with a thick enough paint and varnish combination, of course! Where did we get these "low-quality" solid pieces of mahogany? From a 40-something year old door that was being taken out and being replaced. What do you do to protect a wooden door from the elements? You paint and varnish it.

So yeah, the wood was mahogany the whole time. The spec sheet has not changed, everything is as it was before March 14th. If we make any more progress, I'll make a post about it. Until then, have your fun. See ya!

[absdollievu]

Come Stay Awhile

Olderrich!abby x babysitter!reader

Warnings: abby is in her early 30’s, reader in in her late 20’s

The rain had started just as you turned up the long, winding driveway, the heavy drops tapping against your windshield as you squinted through the gathering gray. You’d seen pictures of the house online — it was part of the job offer — but pictures hadn’t done it justice.

It wasn’t just a house. It was a mansion.

Wide, tall, and built in clean modern lines, with sharp stone paths cutting through immaculately trimmed gardens. You swallowed hard and parked by the front steps, nerves chewing at your stomach.

You were just the babysitter. Nothing more.

Right?

The door swung open before you could even knock.

There she was — Abby Anderson herself.

Early 30s, taller than you remembered from the interview, broad shoulders filling the doorway like a wall you wouldn’t mind running into. She wore a loose black sweatshirt and joggers, her hair pulled into a low bun, a pen tucked behind her ear like she’d been signing important papers and forgot about it.

“Hey,” she said simply, voice low and casual, but her eyes were sharp. “You found it.”

You managed a smile, feeling a little like a lost cat she was about to shoo off her porch.

“Yeah. Thanks for…uh, hiring me.”

She stepped aside and gestured you in with a quick flick of her hand. “Come on. You’ll get soaked.”

The entrance smelled like lemon cleaner and new wood. Everything gleamed: dark floors, wide staircases, tall glass windows.

You stood there dripping water onto an expensive rug and feeling about two inches tall.

Abby shut the door behind you and tilted her head slightly. “You bring your stuff?”

You nodded and jerked a thumb toward your beat-up car. “Yeah. It’s, uh, not much.”

“Good.” She grabbed a set of keys from the little table by the door and tossed them to you.

You almost dropped them.

“I’ll show you where you’re staying,” Abby said, like it was no big deal.

Like you weren’t about to live inside her literal palace.

⸻

The guest house was somehow even nicer than any apartment you’d ever lived in.

It was detached from the main building, had its own kitchen, a little patio, even a washer and dryer. Abby helped you carry your stuff inside — three trips, even though you insisted she didn’t have to.

The whole time, you tried not to stare.

At the way her forearms flexed when she lifted.

At the little frown she got when she was concentrating. At how young she really looked when she wasn’t all buttoned-up in work clothes.

By the time you finished unloading, your nerves had cooled a little. Abby leaned against the doorframe with a bottle of water in her hand, surveying your sad little pile of belongings.

“You’ll fit in,” she said with a smirk.

You laughed, grateful she didn’t seem to mind how out of place you were.

⸻

Weeks passed.

You fell into a rhythm: school drop-offs, play dates, dinner prep.

Her kid was easy — smart, funny, quick to latch onto you like you were the coolest person alive. Abby kept her distance at first, always polite but busy. Always somewhere else.

But sometimes, you caught her watching.

At breakfast, when you made her daughter laugh so hard milk came out her nose.

At bedtime, when you sang low to get her kid to sleep.

At the kitchen table, when you doodled silly comics on homework papers.

Those moments were fleeting. Always broken by a phone call, a meeting, a door shutting upstairs.

Until that one night.

⸻

It had been a long day.

Soccer practice. Science fair projects. Grocery runs.

You were dead on your feet, tying your shoes by the door, about to head back to the guesthouse.

“You want a drink?” Abby’s voice came from behind you.

You froze — laces half-tied, one foot still raised.

Slowly, you turned.

She was leaning against the kitchen island, holding two glasses — whiskey already poured.

Her hair was down for once, messy from running her hands through it. Her sweatshirt sleeves were pushed up, veins standing out against her forearms.

She looked… normal. Soft. Tired in a way that made your chest ache.

You hesitated. You weren’t sure why.

It was just a drink.

Right?

Your heart thudded. You smiled, small and unsure but real.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’d love one.”

Abby’s mouth twitched like she wanted to smile too — but didn’t let herself.

You crossed the kitchen and took the glass from her, fingertips brushing hers for half a second longer than necessary. Neither of you pulled away first.

It was quiet.

The house hummed around you.

The storm still whispered against the windows.

For the first time since you arrived, you realized you weren’t scared of Abby anymore.

Not even a little.

You were scared of yourself — of how easy it was becoming to want her.

And across the countertop, Abby was realizing it too.

The way her throat bobbed when she swallowed.

The way her gaze kept dropping to your mouth when you talked about nothing and everything over the next few hours.

The way she leaned in when you laughed, like she couldn’t help it.

Something shifted that night — quiet, seismic, undeniable.

Neither of you said anything.

But when you said goodnight, Abby’s hand lingered on the edge of your sleeve, as if she almost reached for you.

She didn’t.

Not yet.

⸻

From that night on, everything between you and Abby changed.

Slowly.

Steadily.

Sweetly.

And maybe — if you were both brave enough — it wouldn’t stop.

⸻

After that night, Abby didn’t start showing up at your door with flowers or make grand gestures.

No — it was quieter than that.

It was the way she lingered at the doorway after you put her daughter to bed, sitting at the kitchen island while you finished cleaning up.

It was the way she started asking about your day — not the polite “how was it” of a boss, but the genuine curiosity of someone who wanted to know you.

It was the way she smiled now — small, almost shy, not the tight professional one she used to give.

The slowest burn you’d ever lived through.

And you?

You started finding reasons to stay a little longer after your shifts.

You laughed at her dry jokes until your insides hurt.

You kept catching yourself looking at her — at the crinkle of her eyes when she laughed, the way she always absentmindedly cracked her knuckles when she was thinking.

You were screwed. Completely, irrevocably screwed.

⸻

It was almost two months later, on another rainy night, that it all came to a head.

You were curled up on the couch in Abby’s massive living room — her daughter already fast asleep upstairs — flipping through some mindless movie on TV. Abby wandered in, holding two beers.

“You look dead,” she said with a small smirk, dropping onto the other end of the couch.

“Feel dead,” you mumbled, gratefully accepting the beer.

You sat there in silence for a while, the muted light of the TV flickering across the room.

You could feel her across the couch — the warmth of her body, the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing.

Half an hour passed.

Maybe more.

You didn’t know anymore, the beer softening the edges of the world.

At some point — you didn’t even realize when — you shifted sideways, curling your knees up and resting your head against the back of the couch. Facing her. Watching her.

She was already looking at you.

Something pulled taut between you.

Tight. Breathless. Dangerous.

Abby set her beer down with a quiet clink.

Her hand flexed against her thigh like she was fighting herself.

And then — her voice, low and rough:

“You’re good with her.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Your daughter?”

Abby gave the smallest nod.

“You’re good…with me too.”

Your heart stopped.

Dead quiet.

You opened your mouth, searching for something to say, but Abby was already moving — slow, careful, deliberate.

She shifted closer.

Not much — just a few inches.

“You make this place feel like home,” she said, voice raw.

Your chest ached so hard it hurt.

Without thinking — without giving yourself time to doubt — you closed the distance.

Leaning in.

You stopped a breath away, giving her a chance to pull back.

She didn’t.

Instead, Abby’s hand came up — rough fingers curling behind your neck — and she kissed you.

⸻

It wasn’t a soft kiss.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was starving.

Years of loneliness and longing crashing all at once.

A kiss that said I didn’t think I’d ever have this.

A kiss that said I’m scared to want you but I do anyway.

You gasped against her mouth, and she swallowed it hungrily, her other hand gripping your hip like she was terrified you’d slip away.

You didn’t.

You stayed.

Pressed closer.

Kissed her back like you’d been waiting for this exact moment since the second you stepped onto her front porch.

⸻

Later, much later, you lay tangled together on the couch.

Her sweatshirt smelled like clean laundry and rain.

Her fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns along your spine.

Neither of you said anything for a long time.

You didn’t need to.

Because sometimes, when something breaks open inside you — something heavy and beautiful — you don’t rush to fill the silence.

You let it bloom.

And lying there against her chest, you knew:

this was just the beginning.

⸻

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

Nobody asked me for my opinion on the controversy that dropped today when the Sonic Movie cast pay rate was revealed, which is fair ig since I try to stay positive on this blog. But in case you're wondering, yeah as a certified AFAB™ I'm pissed, but not really specifically at the Sonic crew. Actor pay rates are usually negotiated between agents and the production companies so just like all the other problems with the Sonic movies, this is most likely an issue with Paramount and their patented dumbfuckery. Disclaimer that obviously it could very well be a Sonic crew issue as well, obviously I don't know the inner workings of the entire film production.

Also, if you're mad about this: please be mad about the pay gap that has been going on as long as Hollywood has been alive. This isn't a problem unique to the SCU. I know the phrase "pay gap" is thrown around a whole lot but do you guys actually know how big an issue it is?

Recent percentages are that male and female actors have "a wage difference of about 25 percent," with an estimated difference of $1-2million between star-power men and star-power women.[x][x] Basic Instinct star Sharon Stone said she made $500k to Michael Douglas's $14mil– and when she was asked to be lead in a film being made in ~2022, the lead male, who was "new", was going to be paid $8-9mil, with her salary still at $500k. Last December, Biggest Monopoly In The World Disney was sued by 9,000 women over their pay gap.

This article is from 2019 but brings up some big fucking pay gaps between leads– for instance, Gillian Anderson was offered half of what David Duchovny was for the X-Files reboot as one of the two main fucking characters, Amanda Seyfried has disclosed she made 10% of what her male co-star made on an undisclosed film, Natalie Portman made 1/3 of the salary of Ashton Kutcher in No Strings Attached, and Ellen Pompeo, the titular character of Grey's Anatomy, was paid less than the actor playing her love interest, Patrick Dempsey. In fact, Dempsey was being paid almost double what she was.

However, BIG issue with the 2019 article: it only focuses on what White actors are being paid. Research shows that Black actresses make 57 cents to every dollar white actors make on a good day. Viola Davis, one of the most popular and talented actresses of our generation, has said that black women "get probably a tenth of what a Caucasian woman gets. And I'm number one on the call sheet." Octavia Spencer had to collaborate with Jessica Chastain to make sure they both got paid the same amount of money on a film they both worked on, and revealed that her new salary increased 500% afterwards.

At the end of last year, while promo-ing The Color Purple, Taraji P. Henson broke into tears while talking about how little she's being paid when compared to her white and male contemporaries. And when she talked about the gap, I find it so fucking frustrating that the general audience response was to immediately blame the only Black female producer on the film. I have a million gripes with Oprah Winfrey but TCP cast has said that she herself managed to fix a lot of the problems on set and was nothing but supportive to them. Oh, and there were a lot of problems on set, including a lack of food and dressing space for the main actors. And this is all from celebrity women. Just think about how Hollywood is treating women who don't have the star power to speak up.

Of course this isn't even a problem solo to Hollywood, let alone Paramount, let alone just one movie. And honestly it was probably really sad that when I saw the pay rate for the Sonic 3 cast, I wasn't even surprised, because I've seen worse on bigger projects.

[bumblesimagines]

Jordan Li

you didn't even give me a chance to talk to you the next morning.

i haven't been with anyone since.

can we just act like it never happened and carry on like normal?

Pronouns: She/Her/Hers, F!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Gen V warnings (none), uhhhhhh literally no warnings?, jordan being vulenrable, jordan being shit at talking about feelings pls get a therapist bby

After stuffing her notebook and textbook into her backpack, (Y/N) hooked her fingers around the strap and stood up from her seat, slinging the backpack over her shoulder and following her classmates as they shuffled out of the classroom. They piled into the slowly growing crowded hallway, bumping and brushing against each other as everyone made their way to their next class before the late bell could ring. (Y/N) managed to squeeze into a less crowded hallway, releasing a soft huff of air. 

"(Y/N), hey! Wait up!" She glanced back and spotted Jordan stepping out of the crowd with much less difficulty, the students parting as if Jordan were Moses. It was silly, in her opinion, how much others worshipped those in the Top Ten like they were royalty or gods walking the Earth. Half of the supes making up the list still needed help with simple subjects taught in normal human schools. 

"What's up, Li?" (Y/N) arched a brow when the supe caught up with her. "Is it about the project Brink gave me? I'm almost done with it, I swear. It needs a little tweaking but I'll be turning it in tomorrow." 

"No, no, it's not about that." Jordan dismissed, their fingers raking through their hair and brushing back black strands that'd slipped out of the slick-back hairstyle. (Y/N) hummed and looked forward again, checking the time on the clock ticking at the end of the hall and quickening her step. "It's, uhm.. I wanted to talk to you about last Friday? I know you were out of town over the weekend so I thought I'd catch up with you today."

Her brows furrowed. "Catch up about what exactly?" She asked, sparing them a glance before turning a sharp corner into a different hall. Her mind shuffled through the events of the past days until she got to Friday, trying to think back on what she did that day that would require a discussion with Jordan Li of all people. Sure, at the end of the day she'd hooked up with them, but that hardly needed a play-by-play chat. 

"Last... Friday?" Jordan blinked at her, their own brows dipping. "You didn't even give me a chance to talk to you the next morning. I mean, I've never seen that side of you, you know? I- I always thought you were like, a nerd or something. You're always so quiet and distant." 

"Riiight," (Y/N) drawled, her eyes squinting slightly at them. "You don't know me, Jordan. Of course, you didn't expect that from me, a complete and utter stranger. We literally only talk when Brink wants to set up a meeting about grades. Besides, there's nothing to talk about. You answered some questions, we had a beer or two, we had sex, and that's it."

"Yeah, but, it's never been like that for me before and I know you've never slept with someone like me."

(Y/N) snorted. "I've slept with plenty of douchebags, Jordan, but yes, you're right. I've never been with someone who can change their body. It was new and fun but there's really nothing to talk about." 

"I haven't been with anyone since."

"It's been two days since Friday."

"You know what I'm trying to say," Jordan groaned rather dramatically, sidestepping into her way and looking surprisingly nervous for the typical stone-faced, scowl-wearing, asshole everyone knew them as. (Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek and conjured up a few excuses as to how she could possibly be late to her next class when it was so close to the last one. "I've never been with someone who wanted to sleep with me like that, alright? No one has ever asked me if I wanted to change midway through before. It's always they want to sleep with a just a dude or just a chick, never both. I... I don't know. It was new to me too." 

"So, we both tried something new that night. Great. I'm happy you got to experience that, and I'm sure you'll now feel comfortable asking your army of booty calls if they want to try it too. Now, can we just act like it never happened and carry on like normal? You can go back to being Brink's assistant and I'll go back to being the nightmare student whose questions and emails you have to answer every day." (Y/N) raised her hand to pat them on the shoulder and stepped around them, wincing when the late bell rang through the hallway. Jordan caught her arm, their jaw clenched and eyes downcast.

"I don't want to act like it never happened," Jordan admitted quietly, a soft tone she'd never heard them use before. "And I don't want things to go back to the way they were either."

[smells-like-mettaton]

Fic for @carlyraejepsans bday! so of course it is soriel <3 (no warnings rated G pre-canon)

---

“Knock knock.”

“...Oh. Who’s there?” the door lady’s voice came a beat too late. Was she setting up a counter-joke? 

“Guest.”

“Guest who?”

Nope, nothing out of the ordinary now. Maybe she sounded a little tired. Had she just been dozing off?

“If you opened this door, ya wouldn’t have to.”

The joke only got a modest chuckle. Did it hit too close to home? Well, he had been hittin’ his knuckles on her home…

Nah, there was no point in overthinking it. Every knock-knock joke was about doors. She would’ve ghosted him a long time ago if she’d been worried about that.

He rested his skull back against the purple stone and closed his eye sockets. Heck, he might doze off too if he got too cozy like this. It wouldn’t be the first time. Almost always, she was still here when he woke up, whether that was in five minutes or five hours. Which was interesting, since she definitely didn’t stay at the door constantly—there were days when a whole shift passed without an audience to his jokes. 

So why did she wait for him? He hoped it wasn’t because she worried—nah, it was probably just so she could have the last laugh.

She wasn’t laughing now. Or saying anything. Had he been the one to space out this time?

“Who’s there?” he tried asking.

“........I’m sorry, my friend.”

“I’m sorry, my friend, who?”

A sigh filtered through the door. He almost imagined he could feel the breeze of it.

“I’m sorry, my friend who has been so kind as to attempt to cheer an old lady who is currently beyond cheering. I should have known better than to visit today.”

A light thud shook the stone behind Sans’s back. Her skull thumping against the door? 

“Kind of a long punchline, but I’ll let it slide,” he said as she seemed to slide lower down. “Knock knock.”

“My friend—”

“Great, you already know who’s there.” He wished he could look her in the eye while he said this, or squeeze her shoulder, or… heh. 

Bones weren’t supposed to be this soft. 

“So the knock-knock jokes ain’t cutting it today. Eh, that’s life. Can’t bring the house down every time.” He shrugged. She’d be able to hear his jacket brush the stone, he was pretty sure. “Hope I’m not bringing you down, though. Believe it or not, I can shut up.”

“It is not you. Of course it is not you.” She sighed.

He hadn’t thought it was, but it was good to get confirmation. That meant he could stand to push a little harder.

Not too hard, though. It was a delicate balance they hung on these rusted hinges. 

“Yeah, ‘course. You wouldn’t’ve come out if you didn’t want to have some bad laughs, right?”

A pause. Without sound, she might as well be nothing at all. He tried not to dwell on that, on sleepless nights—how easy it would be to lose her forever, and never know why.

(The sinking feeling that it’s happened before.)

“Either that, or… you wanted to talk about it?” he tried, like trying to coax a tough jar to twist open.

More silence. He’d probably twisted too hard. Was she there? Was she breathing? He thought she needed to; her laughs sounded like the type to come from wide, deep lungs. 

“.....Today was my wedding anniversary.” 

It was a good thing Sans didn’t have lungs. That would’ve punched the air out of ‘em for sure.

As it was, he forced a chuckle. Probably the wrong move, he realized a beat late.

“Uh. Sorry.”

He came up with about a dozen bad anniversary jokes he could’ve told, but out of respect, he buried ‘em in the snow. Or at least tucked ‘em in his pocket for later, in case he got the sense they’d help. 

“It is alright. I… wish I could laugh about it.” An odd wet sound was probably her swallowing.

“That bad, huh.”

“It would be easier if it had been. ‘That bad.’” She breathed out shakily. “It was fine. Until it was not. And it has been… quite some time since then.”

Well, that told him basically nothing. 

“Sometimes it feels as if… as if all I have to mark the days are tragedies,” she murmured. “And when the events are not tragedies, they have become so by their absence…”

Sans’s fists were clenched in his pockets. He’d asked for this. He couldn’t say he was in over his head now. 

She needed a better way to keep track of time. Something to look forward to. Something other than another loop, another end—

He was projecting again. But hey, regular life could end up a lot like a time loop if you weren’t careful. If you couldn’t find some way to keep the days from running together… a new face to talk to, a new hand to put a whoopie cushion in…

“I am sorry. I knew I should not—”

“Hey, ‘s fine. Was just thinking,” Sans interrupted before she could dig herself a pit of guilt. “So, uh, ‘s your spouse still in the picture? On your side of this door?”

“No, thank goodness.” She gave a shaky laugh. “No. He is… the reason for the door.”

Sans’s marrow froze.

“Great. You want me to give ‘im a bad time for you? How’d that be for an anniversary present?” He wasn’t sure if he meant it as a joke or not. 

“Ha.” Her laugh was too flat. Bad joke, then. “You would—you would like him. Most people do.”

Sans couldn’t see himself liking anyone who’d fumble a hilarious woman like this old lady. 

Though, beneath five layers of guilt, three layers of shame, and at least one layer of irony, he realized he might need to be grateful for that guy’s mistakes.

He shook his head, hoping the thought would fly out and lodge itself in one of the pine trees across the path. 

“Hey, we’re friends, right?” he said more brightly. “A friend’s gotta take your side against your crappy exes. That’s just how it works.”

She snorted a little at that. He hoped it was from amusement, and not because she didn’t believe him.

It was too bad he didn’t know the guy. Sans was sure he could’ve come up with a personal roast or two to get her really rolling. As it was, he’d have to settle for a different strategy.

“Thank you. Truly,” she said quietly.

“Don’t mention it.” He winked, for all that she wouldn’t be able to see it. “Hey, how long do you think we’ve been friends, anyway?”

He was terrible at keeping track of time these days. It sounded like she might not be that much better—

“Five months and ten days,” she said without missing a beat.

“Wh—really?”

“Yes, ‘really.’ Er, counting from the first time I heard you knock. Unless you would consider a later date the beginning of our friendship?”

Sans’s skull warmed. Wow. 

“No, yeah. That’s—me too. I just, uh. You’ve got a good memory.”

“It was a special day.” She sounded like she was smiling, now.

Good. Maybe his idea could actually work.

“Hey, so’s today. It’s our five-month-and-ten-day anniversary.”

His grin was tense in the absent heartbeats that followed.

“Uh. Friendiversary?” He coughed. “Whatever you wanna call, uh, this thing we’ve been doing.”

That sounded almost worse. Wow. Maybe he should take some pointers from a human skeleton and bury himself six feet under the dirt.

“Nevermind. I just thought—I’d, uh—” Steal this day from your ex? Make you think about me instead? Geez, he hadn’t thought he was this selfish and pathetic. “—Forget it. Think I got lost on the way to the punch line.”

Despite everything, a giggle bubbled out through the crack in the door.

“I will not ‘forget it.’ I have a good memory, ‘remember’?” she teased.

He groaned. 

“Besides, I like it,” she added. “Happy five-month-and-ten-day anniversary, my friend.”

…Well. She sounded happier than before. That was the whole point of this, right? Didn’t really matter how much he made a fool of himself on the way there.

He’d do a lot worse than that to make her laugh again, if it came to it. 

“Happy five-month-and-ten-day anniversary, old lady.”

[thatimageoftomscott]

See I thought Tom had aro vibes for YEARS, like, that video where he talked about the cheating was like "oh no. That means he has made contact with another human. Shit. My entire mental vision of him is ruined" (this was before I had my aroallo awakening and realized that he can have sex and have aro vibes) but I just assumed that was 100% me projecting, and the thing I do where I just assume anyone I like even a little bit who hasn't mentioned a significant other is never going to ever have any interest in getting one because I mean. Why would you? And then when they do I'm inevitably disappointed.

My point is that at the very least, I'm glad someone is also projecting on Tom, and at the most I'm glad this is apparently a theory with legs

dkkdks lmaoo. i think you mean that video where he talked about the chlamydia not the cheating (but frankly the one did probably cause the other). which genuinely crazy of him to just mention that on a video about computers. but nonetheless. yeah. i have a bit of trouble believing that this man is fully straight (he has way too many queer friends) and if i am being honest with you something about his "yeah i dated once in university and never again" + "the idea of marriage keeps me up at night" swag definitely makes me raise Some eyebrows yknow. but at the end of the day this is all speculation. people change and as someone who has identified as aroace for several years now few things piss me off as much as people thinking that i could never possibly change my mind about this. nothing is set in stone etc etc + we dont actually know all that much about what he gets up to in his free time + everything he said in europlop is at least five years old at this point. but it definitely is a theory that compels me.

^ youtubes most eligible bachelor.

[mayasaurusss]

Day three: "You have a leaf in your hair".

The last sun rays of the day shine on your skin as you wait for her, standing at the entrance of the local coffee shop. Lottie had texted for you to wait for her there and that she'd come around four pm; half an hour had already passed.

You met Lottie some months ago, during spring. It was a slow and tiring day at the coffee shop you worked in, already having dealt with several angry customers and a cheap boss. When she came in, you thought nothing of her. You faked your politeness as usual and gave her her order. But then you noticed how she kept coming in, and her face started to burn in your mind.

Little by little, she started to grow on you. She'd come daily, always asking for the same order, always sitting on the same spot, at the same hour. You'd lie if you said you didn't develop a small crush for her, which only deepened when you noticed her staring at you. Maybe your feelings were reciprocated?

Lottie was the first one to make a move. She came one summer morning and, with the most red face you've ever seen, asked for your number. "S-so I was thinkin'... You are really cute. Can- can I get your number?" the poor girl was sweating and blushing so hard you thought she was gonna pass out from the heat.

This is your fourth date with Lottie. "Hey! Sorry I'm late!" you are awoken from your thoughts when you hear her voice, looking to see her panting slightly. "I- I lost track of the time" she says, wiping away sweat from her brow. "You didn't have to run. I'll always wait for you" she blushes slightly at your words, pressing a hand where her heart is. "Oh-! That's sweet of you to say" she looks between you and your hand, multiple times, thinking something, before deciding to stand awkwardly in front of you.

"Sooo... wanna go?" you smile, trying to ease up the tension, before taking her hand and leading her through the busy streets. She's blushing like crazy, trying to hide it between the creases of her scarf.

The busy street sounds fade slowly, getting replaced by calm stillness and chatter. Cobble stone is replaced by earth, unraveling through green grass. You've decided to hang out in a park for your date: you have brought tea in a flask, snacks and your wonderful personality.

The bench you sit on is damp from humidity, slightly wetting your clothes when you sit on it. You reach in your bag to take out some sweet snacks and offer them to Lottie. "So, how has your day been?" she asks you, munching on the cookie. "It was alright. There was one rude customer, but that's it. Thankfully my boss let me out one hour before usual. "You take two small paper cups you brought beforehand and give one to Lottie. The dark liquid fills the cups, releasing a trail of steam in the air. You drink from the cup, feel it travel down your throat, warming your body from the inside. "What about you?" Lottie feels a chill run down her spine; she doesn't want to tell you yet about what had happened to her years ago, she is not ready yet. When you had your first date, all she mentioned was that she had gone through intense therapy after an accident which happened years prior. She said that she was living off of her parents money, that she was about to inaugurate her first project: a wellness center. She never mentioned the yellowjackets, the crash, or what she had to do. But, as far as it goes, she didn't tell a lie, did she?

After a decade, in her late 20's, Lottie still can't forgive herself for what she has done. During those days, after eating Jackie and Javi, she told herself that it was all she could do. That she wasn't at fault. But when the hunger fades and all that remains is regret, does that statement still mean anything?

It takes her a moment to come back, and when she does she blushes, having been caught deep inside her thoughts. "I- uh, yeah. I have already set everything up. The wellness center is ready to be opened to the public. I just need to promote it somehow" she fiddles with her fingers, pulling on her skin. "That's good! I hope I can come by and visit you sometimes!" she wouldn't dare to say to you that she wished you'd live there with her. It's far too early, and she doesn't even know what feelings she has for you yet. She smiles and looks at her reflection in the tea "You can come by anytime. Whenever you want to, just tell me. I'll book a cab for you". "That is no issue, really. I can pay my own things" you remember how, on the first date, she insisted on paying for dinner for the both of you. She was sweet of course, but you didn't want her to waste her money on you.

"I insist. I would love to" she shakes her cup, watching the tea almost spill over the edge. "Besides, my parents are ri-" a loud rumble echoes from the sky, enough to cut Lottie off. You look up to see clouds of many shades of gray running fast above you, carried by the wind. A single drop of rain lands on your face, running down on your skin. "I hope it won't rain" you mumble worried. Just a moment later, rain starts to fall down on you, cold and sharp. "Fuck!" near you, Lottie is hurriedly collecting her and your things before the rain can ruin them. "Come here!" she takes your hand in hers and tugs you along with her, to search for shelter from the rain. You watch Lottie and for a split second, your heartbeats are louder than the rain. She manages to catch the sight of a bus stop, across the street that runs along the park. Her recklessness almost gets you both killed, as cars drive down the street and she just runs through them. At last, you're both safe from the rain now. Pools of water fill the gaps in between the concrete, wetting you even more than the rain could. You are so bitter that the rain has ruined your date, and worried, too. You were the one who suggested to Lottie to go to the park for your date: if you picked literally anywhere else, the date would have gone smoothly and your clothes wouldn't be ruined. "Lottie, I-" instead Lottie laughs. She seems so...happy.

"Lottie...?" she runs a hand through her hair, slicking them back, and giggles while doing so. "Sorry, sorry! I didn't think it would rain! I got caught off guard" she searches for something in her bag, "I didn't even bring an umbrella".

You are left a bit confused by that sudden outburst of emotions from her. "Uh...why were you laughing?" you ask. Her smile falters for a moment. She looks at her fingers, eyes distant, as if in a moment she was carried somewhere far from here. "I- I don't know. I guess I just had fun for a moment. Besides..." she turns to look at you, smiling, dark eyes reflecting yours, "...I like the rain".

You don't answer her back, too memersized in how beautiful she looks. Lottie's eyes move to look at something on your head. "Oh, hold on, You have a leaf in your hair" she gets closer to you, so close that you're almost pressed against her. Her fingers brush on your hair and you see her throw away a small green leaf. "There. All gone" right as she was about to take a step behind, you crane your neck to look her in the eyes. Time stays still. You are hypnotized by the beauty of her eyes, so dark you can see yourself in them, and she steals glances of your lips. Lottie realizes that she has stepped into a territory she's not so familiar with.

"I- I am sorry" she looks anywhere but at you, "I, I didn't mean to..." fingers scraping at each other, pinching on the skin. Her rambles are cut short when she feels your lips pressed into hers. She forgets how to breathe, how to close her eyes, how to control her heartbeats without going crazy. Then you place your hand on her forearm, squeezing lightly on it. She allows herself to relax under your touches, her hands hold on your waist, trembling with emotion. Her lips move against your, reciprocating the kiss; your lips so warm against the freezing rain.

When the kiss stops, it feels like coming back for air after diving deep into water. "Oh...fuck" she exhales a sigh, "that was so good". Your laugh is almost music in her ears "So, when's the next date?".

[willowmosby]

I couldn't call my self a die hard Buffy fan and not make a some comments about the news of a potential reboot.

1) nothing is set in stone, I mean it's clearly more than a whisper but it looks like it's still pretty far from being in existence so I'm not really stressed or excited

2) I don't really see the down side to there being a reboot, at worst we all collectively can label it nonsense if we don't like it- I mean I don't know anyone who really treats the comics as cannon. At best it's a really meaningful show just like the original was. In fact just the possibility of a reboot might get new people to watch the show! And in the middle ground well, as much as I love -and I really do love it- the Og Buffy has its own flaws so I think we as a fandom will learn to live with some miss steps.

3) I think the names I've seen attached to it (Nora and Lila Zuckerman and Chloé Zhao) actually give me some hope. They have all been involved in projects I've liked. I can't say I've seen all of their filmography but over all If the names I've seen are working on it I trust that some interesting tv will happen. Maybe not like life changing but Pokerface, agents of shield, suits are all good shows and hey I'm one of the people who liked The Eternals. Additionally I think we should be hopeful for female show runners given the nature of the show and current climate of the world.

So yeah I guess I lean more positive but we will all just have to wait and see.

[bedlamsbard]

“The soldier,” Thanos said. He flinched a little as one of Natasha’s widow’s stings hit him in the side of the head, but brushed it off as if it was nothing more than a mosquito bite. “The man out of…time.”

Thanos let the last word linger there between them. The Stones set across his knuckles glittered in the fading sunlight as he turned his left hand over, thoughtful.

He was a kid playing with a new toy, the kind of boy who burned the wings off flies with a magnifying glass and a sunbeam. Steve knew the exact instant Thanos realized he could use more than one of the Stones at the same time.

March 1945: With the deaths of Johann Schmidt and Steve Rogers only a month old, the SSR has spent the intervening weeks hunting down the last of Hydra’s holdouts. When Peggy Carter and the Howling Commandos are unexpectedly called back to London, however, the return of Steve Rogers from beyond the grave raises more questions than it answers – and draws the attention of a dangerous new enemy.  (Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff)

Previous: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

21: Ride Out the Rain 260K, AU, WIP

Chapter preview:

He was aware of Tony rubbing his fingers absently over his arc reactor, a dim blue glow from beneath his shirt.  Abruptly, Tony said, “I don’t know what I’m going to do if this doesn’t work.” Steve glanced at him. “If it doesn’t work, I don’t think we’re going to be in any position to care,” he said, a little more grimly than he had intended. Tony grimaced.  “Yeah, well – yeah.”  He shook his head.  “I don’t get it.” Steve frowned. “What part?”  He thought the “kill Thanos” part was straightforward enough, but he had learned over the past six years that as a civilian Tony didn’t always make the connections that Steve, Natasha, and the other experienced operators in the Avengers did.  The same thing was true of Bruce; he had also seen it with both Wanda and Vision.  Sometimes with Thor you had to play around with the language, but he always got it eventually. “Why the son of a bitch did any of this,” Tony clarified, and off Steve’s sideways glance added, “What?  What did you think I meant?” Steve shook his head.  “Nothing, never mind.”  He and Tony had spent four of the last six years having two or three different conversations past each other half the time they spoke; he shouldn’t be surprised it was happening again now.  The other two years they hadn’t been speaking at all. Tony glared suspiciously at him, then visibly decided not to pursue the question further, probably because, like Steve, he knew now wasn’t the time.  Steve wearily resigned himself to another argument later, assuming they survived this. After a moment, Steve said, “Guys like that always a reason.  It’s never a good one, but – they always have a reason.  They might even believe it themselves.  It’s never the real reason.”

[georgie-weasley]

Grinch Young R.L. x GN!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of depression, mentions of poverty, and just disliking Christmas

Word Count: 2.8k

Pairing: Young!Remus Lupin x Gender Neutral Gryffindor!Reader

Summary: Christmas was quickly approaching and everyone was excited but you. As the residential Grinch you were not looking forward to the holiday but turns out Remus Lupin is a Grinch as well.

A/N: Hello all! This is my first fic back after a break and I'm really glad to be back. Thank you to everyone who is still reading my stories and I love you all. Also this was inspired by my disliking of Christmas so I projected on the reader and Remus a smidge.

Masterlist Taglist

Christmas had exploded around Hogwarts. Pine trees were set up in just about every corner in every single room in the castle. Trees were taller than most of the students and covered in brightly colored baubles and tinsel and magic balls of light that changed color every minute. Garlands and wreaths covered the stone walls and the smell of gingerbread followed the students everywhere they went. The suits of armor broke out into Christmas songs and danced anytime someone passed by. The Great Hall was by far the most decorated part of Hogwarts with festive table runners, stockings hung on the fireplace, large real snowflakes on every surface enchanted to never melt, and the magical ceiling was snowing. It was horrible.

You had never been one to get into the Christmas spirit. The songs were annoying and wormed their way into your brain and never left. The decorations were everywhere and followed you around, literally while at Hogwarts. People were just insanely obsessed with Christmas and overly happy. They were happy to the point of it being creepy and fake and weird.

Possibly the worst was just how excited all of your friends seemed to be. James Potter, sunshine incarnate and your best friend, loved Christmas. He loved everything you hated about it. In fact, James had been talking about Christmas since the beginning of November and he never let you escape it.

“Happy 10th day of Christmas Y/N!” James’s bright and cheerful smile popped up between you and your book. The sudden appearance of his face made you jump, smacking him a little with your book.

“James! You absolute asshole! I’m trying to read.” You huffed and shoved him away as you tried to turn back to your book. The common room was quiet and the perfect place to read until now.

James only rolled his eyes and wedged himself into the miniscule space between you and the arm of the couch. “You know there is an entire couch open? Actually the whole common room is open but you had to sit practically on my lap?”

“Well yeah,” James chuckled as he tore the book out of your grasp and fully moved himself onto your lap. “I have to tell you what I want for Christmas! This year I want Lily Evans to date me.”

“Fat chance buddy. You’ve been wishing for that since you were 13. Give it a rest.” With one hard push, James fell off of your lap and onto the rug with a loud thud. “Besides, don’t you know you don’t get your Christmas wish if you tell it to the Grinch.”

James just looked at you with a wild smirk. “Then I suppose I’ll have to sing a song to reverse the curse!” He then burst into song, singing the Twelve Days of Christmas at the top of his lungs. You clamped your hands over your ears but nothing managed to block out the horrible sounds coming from James until the portrait opened and a figure sped by and body slammed James.

Sirius pulled James into a headlock while Peter quickly sprinted over and sat on James’s chest. “Please Prongs, we’ve talked about this. You can’t sing. Don’t ever try to do it again.” While James struggled to break free from Sirius and Peter, the fourth marauder sat in the open space next to you, his eyes already on his book.

You knew Sirius, Peter, and Remus but not like you knew James. Yes they were friends with your best friend but you never spoke to them unless it was for class or James made you. There was nothing wrong with the three of them. Actually, quite the opposite. You loved them and loved hearing stories about them but you never ran in the same circles. In fact, you didn’t see James as much as you used to either. You had grown up next door to him and as kids you two were always together. It’s not that you two aren’t friends anymore because clearly you are, you just don’t see him around as much.

James found Sirius, Remus, and Peter and never left them. You found your own friends and spent more time on your studies than James ever could. Sirius was fine and you waved to him in the halls. Peter would wave if he was with James or Sirius but not on his own. Remus never really acknowledged you. However, that never stopped you from looking at him. Since James had become friends with Remus Lupin, you were drawn to him. He was quiet just about all of the time but that didn’t mean he wasn’t sassy. You heard the way he would call out James and it was cutthroat. He was tall and handsome and rather mysterious in a way. Not to mention he was smart and was always seen with a book.

“Hey Grinch!” James's voice came from somewhere on the floor.

“What?” You and Remus both said. At the same time, you looked away from Remus as he looked away from his book to find James. Hearing Remus, you then looked at him while he looked at you.

For only a second, no one moved or spoke until James broke the silence. “Right, sorry. Forgot there’s two of ya. Moony?” Remus slowly tore his gaze away from yours to look at his friend who had continued speaking but you could hear none of it.

That was an interesting development. You had assumed James was talking to you since not only does he know about your distaste for Christmas but you called yourself Grinch not very long ago. But Remus also responded so Remus must also not be the biggest fan of Christmas. Otherwise, there would have been no reason for James to call him that or for him to respond.

The night slowly grew darker and while more and more students arrived in the common room, Remus never left the spot next to you. James, Sirius, and Peter eventually left to find some poor soul to bother but Remus remained, his nose still in his book. Honestly, it was making you a little nervous at this point. The man has hardly ever spoken to you since you were introduced back in third year. It's been three years since then and it wasn’t like you were much closer than before.

“You don’t like Christmas?” Remus mumbled, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. He sounded almost disinterested.

“Yeah, I think it’s quite dumb to be honest.” You expected him to respond, like people usually do when having a conversation but he didn’t. He just hummed a little and went back to his book. “You don’t like it either?” If he wasn’t going to continue then maybe you would just have to make him. It brought almost a sense of hope thinking about the fact that maybe someone else wasn’t enjoying the season. You didn’t want someone to wallow around with but to have someone that wasn’t going to complain about your less than thrilled outlook would be really nice.

“I don’t. Never have.” Remus didn’t even bother taking his eyes off of his book as he answered. It could have been just your imagination but you thought you could just hardly see him smile. He suddenly closed his book and stood, his arm brushing yours in the process. Remus made it to the base of the stairs before he turned back around to look at you. “Hey Grinch.” As soon as you turned and he could see your face, he smiled. “See you later.”

---

At the Gryffindor table later that week, you had once again been minding your own business when James interrupted you. He sat across from you and smirked, reaching over to poke your arm. “Happy 14th day of Christmas, Grinch Number Two.”

“How come I’m the second?” You said with a roll of your eyes before you continued eating your breakfast.

“Because Remus is number one.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well, I disagree. I knew you first.”

James hummed and shrugged. “I’ll take that into consideration. Did you talk to him after we all left?”

“Did you set that up James?” You asked with narrow eyes.

“No, I just simply called him the nickname I always give him this time of year which just so happens to be the same as yours and I assumed he would mention something about it to you after. Did he?” He leaned forward, eagerly awaiting your answer.

“Yes.” James let out a cheer at your answer, getting him some weird looks from the whole room since he was so loud. Before you could chastise him for being so loud and obnoxious, Remus sat next to you. Which was very odd since before last night, he’s never sat next to you.

Immediately, James got up and moved further down the table to bother Lily. “Are you going home for Christmas?” Remus asked as soon as James was out of earshot. “The final day to sign up to stay here is Saturday.”

“Will you be staying?” You asked.

Remus nodded. “I stay every year.” He opened his mouth and closed it a few times before he evidently decided he didn’t want to say anything and kept it shut.

You could have gone home and while it would have been nice to be with family, you never actually stayed at the castle for Christmas. Now might be a good chance to do it. “I think I’ll stay. I go home every year; my family can survive without me for one year.”

He smiled and started adding food to his plate. “I’m glad you’ll be staying.” You were too busy trying to hide the blush on your cheeks to notice the blush on his.

---

As the holiday neared closer and closer, everyone got happier and happier. Well, everyone but you and Remus. While James and Sirius, who were also staying at Hogwarts, were planning a Christmas party and singing songs, you and Remus bonded over the opposite.

His least favorite song was We Wish You a Merry Christmas, he thought Santa was beyond creepy, and he found the smell of pine to be overpowering. You sat together at meals and laughed at people who were wearing festive outfits. He made you smile as he made faces behind peoples’ backs as they gushed over holiday traditions. On more than one occasion, he shoved James into a pile of snow when he was being too cheery. Remus Lupin was bringing you a lot of joy this season and you were not the only one to notice it.

James made it a point to tell you that this was the happiest he had ever seen both of you around this time of year. In fact, it almost looked like you were enjoying Christmas. You had scoffed at that and then proceeded to shove him into some snow but he did have a point. Remus was making you really happy and it's hard to be a grinch when you’re happy.

But it was nice being happy around the holiday and it was even nicer that Remus was the one making you so happy. You always found him attractive and you knew he was smart and funny but now you got to know just how sweet he was. Yes, he was poking fun at other people but he was doing it purely for your entertainment. He admitted one night after you two had made fun of a particularly ugly Christmas sweater that he never does this; he just liked hearing you laugh. Which made your insides turn into jelly and you couldn’t stop smiling. You also learned that he liked the same books as you and he was so passionate about reading.

He was extremely loyal to his friends and would do anything for them. He wasn’t great at expressing his feelings but he tried his best to let the people close to him know they were loved. He was brutally honest especially when it came to James and Sirius; he was always telling them how stupid they looked or when they were acting like idiots. You felt like a cliche Christmas romance movie but you were falling in love.

---

It was Christmas Eve and James had insisted all seven of the Gryffindors who had stayed needed to sleep in the common room. It was a tradition you two used to have as kids. The night before Christmas you two would sleep on the floor in the living room in front of the tree; you kept up with that tradition until you went to Hogwarts.

Of course before that, there was a party. It was nothing insane like the parties Sirius and James threw after winning a Quidditch game but it was still a party. There were snacks, drinks, games, and Christmas music, much to yours and Remus’s disappointment. You mingled for a while, which is more than Remus could say. He sat on one of the loveseats and only moved to grab more snacks. James tried to get him to play pin the nose on Rudolph but it was easy to guess how that went. While you also didn’t join in on the festive games, you stayed to watch. Sirius managed to get the nose perfectly on Rudolph which made James accuse him of cheating to which Sirius tackled him for ‘insulting his honor’. He confessed to cheating ten minutes later.

Many more games went on like that and after the fifth one, you found Remus still on the loveseat. As you approached, he moved so there would be more space for you. You sat in silence for a while before he spoke up. “Why do you hate Christmas, really?”

You had told him once you didn’t like the music and yes that’s true but it's not the only reason. “I guess I just don’t like how happy people pretend to be. There’s real genuine happiness like James but so many people aren’t happy. Life is horrible and nothing is going right but as soon as it's December, they pretend. It's ok to be unhappy during the holidays; you don’t have to pretend life is perfect just because it's Christmas.” You looked at Remus only to find him watching you. “Can I ask why you don’t like Christmas?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I never really had a good Christmas. My mom really struggled to be happy around this time of year, especially after…”

“After you became a werewolf?” His eyes grew wide and he started to shake. “No one told me,” you whispered and put a hand on his arm to calm him. “You just were always missing on the full moon and sometimes the day after. I figured it out. I don’t think of you differently.”

Remus took a minute to process the fact that you knew his deepest secret before he continued his story. “Yes, after I was bitten my mother was horribly depressed around Christmas. I think it made her remember everything and she couldn’t be happy. It also was harder for my parents to get money after since no one really wanted to be around us. I saw my parents struggle all month to save money to get me a gift. My mother especially would go without dinner just to waste money on some stupid toy. After seeing that, well it makes it hard to like Christmas.”

Your hand found his and you intertwined your fingers with his. “I’m sorry Remus.”

He shrugged a little and watched your hand as his thumb stroked yours. “It isn’t your fault. Actually, you’ve made this the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” He smiled and looked up at you, his cheeks a dusty rose.

“You’ve made this my best Christmas as well.” It was then something bumped your head, causing you to look up. Behind the loveseat was James who had tied some mistletoe to a stick and was holding it over your head. Remus followed your gaze and sighed, rolling his eyes. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Do you want to?” Remus whispered. You knew James could hear every word you were saying despite him pretending not to listen but you didn’t really care.

“Yes.” You hardly finished the word before Remus leaned down and brought his lips to yours. Immediately your arms wrapped around his neck and brought him closer if it was even possible. His hands found your waist, lips moving against yours in perfect sync. Unfortunately, the kiss had to end so you could breathe.

Remus nudged your nose with his. “Now it’s the best Christmas ever.”

Taglist

@100gaysnails @weasleybuns @s1aaaaayyyyyyyt @steelthistle @jsjcue @Andy200700 @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @daisydark @creepybloodykitty2 @avatheveela @themarauderswife7 @mintyme101

[marwritesgood]

Kiss it Better

Pairing: Steve x Hopper!Reader

Summary: While Y/n was used to going unnoticed, she was all Steve could think about.

series masterlist // main masterlist

A/N: Just some indulgent fluff in the form of backstory before we get back to the main story line.

November, 1982

Y/n shoved her books into her locker and let out a huff. It had been a long school day and she had only an hour to commute to her part time job and don the most hideous uniform known to man. A hell of a start to sixteen, but she had had worst birthdays. This one would be different, she was sure of it.

Slamming the door shut, she jolted as she recognised Steve leaning against the lockers adjacent to hers, grinning like he knew something she did not. Y/n tightened her grip on her bag and cocked her brow, mostly amused and the smallest bit flustered. She drew her lips together tightly, trying not to think about how flushed she felt.

“Did you see our grade?”

It was his first A in a while, but that wasn't what had him feeling giddy, it was the excuse he had to go to her locker and strike up a conversation with her. After their time working on their group project came to an end, he had been grasping at straws trying to find reasons to talk to her, to hear her voice again.

“I did. You’re welcome," Y/n smirked. Steve scoffed jokingly.

“I’m pretty sure it was my good looks and charisma that swayed Mrs Madison." He inched closer to her, brows raised teasingly. Y/n narrowed her eyes, the corners of her mouth perking up.

She could never tell if the type of banter they had was platonic or if it was just a consequence of Steve being the biggest flirt in Hawkins, but she knew it was risky to think anything else of it.

“No, I think it was my research.”

Steve chuckled, standing straight. They were quite the unlikely duo, but he liked to believe

“Well either way, we make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, smiling affectionately.

When she was first assigned as his partner for the project, she had more than her fair share of reservations. Now, her feelings towards Steve had become far more complicated for all the best reasons.

Steve put his hands in his pockets and glanced down momentarily at his shoes, contemplating what to say next. He met her gaze with a nervous smile and began to back away.

“I guess I’ll see you around.”

Y/n nodded, her expression dimming until she noticed Steve’s feet come to a halt. Suddenly, he was turning back to her, his face lit up.

“Oh, and happy birthday.”

She froze, her brows knitted together, puzzled. No one ever really remembered to wish her a happy birthday except for a handful of her friends and Flo from the station.

“How do you know-“

“You mentioned it last week, remember?”

Steve felt a knot form in his stomach as he realised how potentially weird it was for him to remember a comment she brought up nonchalantly eight days ago. Steve was so sure she would grimace and find a way to politely exit the conversation, but she just smiled.

Y/n barely remembered mentioning it, yet he did.

“Um, you know actually I’m having some friends over at my place tonight, if you wanted to come,” Steve added.

It was nothing special, but if Y/n was going to be there, he knew it would be a good night. Maybe he would even get her a cake, and a nice gift that didn't cross the friend-line too far for comfort.

Y/n gave it a moment's deliberation and frowned, deciding the plans she had already set in stone were too precious to cancel.

“Thanks, Steve, but I... I’m having dinner with my dad tonight.”

Steve smiled defeatedly and nodded huffed, looking around the corridor as more and more students were heading out the door until his eyes landed on one of the posters for the upcoming dance. Steve drew in a sharp breath and wondered if he could muster up the courage to finally ask her. She was preoccupied buttoning up her cardigan, and it seemed like as good a time as any.

“Well, hey, the winter dance is coming up in a couple weeks and I…”

Her eyes shot up as did her hopes, despite her best efforts to steady herself and remember play it cool. It was just another stupid high school dance she would inevitably find herself at, but if somehow she ended up going with Steve, something inside her knew it would be different.

She watched intently anticipating his next words. Steve had been holding his breath, choked up at the way she was gazing at him. Panic began to seep in.

“I know the band that’s playing," he blurted out rapidly. "They’re pretty good, so should be fun night.”

“Oh." There was no hiding her disappointment. Her shoulder slumped but she maintained some semblance of a smile. “That’s cool... I guess.”

Steve swallowed thickly. He could have sworn the light in her expression dimmed, and he hated himself for chickening out, but there was always a voice that questioned if he was just kidding himself. It was hard to hear anything over it.

“Well, have a nice dinner with your dad,” Steve murmured before turning around and walking away. There was still plenty of time before the dance, perhaps by then he will have worked up the courage to ask her.

***

April, 1983

The passenger seat of Steve's car may as well have had her name written on it. It remained in the exact position Y/n had it adjusted to and the clutter she couldn't manage to squeeze into her bag by the time she had to go. Steve would not have had it any other way.

Her uniform was drenched in rainwater from just the distance she had to run from the store to the parking lot. Steve gave her on of his jackets to drape over her shoulders for the car ride, mumbling something about the radiator being broken and not wanting her to catch a cold. Y/n was too distracted by the smell of his cologne to remember his exact words.

He drove slower than normal, taking his time to focus on what he could make out of the road markings in between his windshield wipers going back and forth rapidly.

“Thanks again for giving me a ride home," Y/n said loudly, making sure he heard her clearly. His eyes never leaving the road ahead, Steve smiled easily and shrugged.

“It’s nothing.”

He did not have to think twice about it. When Y/n told him she finished in 5 and he knew the rain would only getting heavier, Steve knew he would wait around to drive her home so she would not have to wait at the bus stop. There was no chance he was going to do anything else.

Y/n glanced at him, feeling overwhelmed by all that she felt towards him. A year ago, she would have been walking in the rain, thinking about how she would scrape together the leftovers in the fridge to make herself some dinner. Now, she had Steve.

“It’s not nothing.”

Her voice was quieter, but Steve caught what she said and held it tightly. There was a sincerity and vulnerability in her voice, something he knew she let very few people have access to. He liked knowing he had become one of those people.

Steve took a split moment to steal a glance at her. She was sitting in his car, his jacket draped over her shoulders, and she was looking back at him with an expression that drove him crazy. He wanted to remember every second of this moment.

Y/n turned back to the road and her face fell.

“Shit.”

Steve slowed down when he saw it too. A massive portion of a tree must have snapped off from the wind and landed right on the road that led to Y/n's place. Officers had already blocked off the road. A familiar one approached Steve's BMW, walking towards the passenger window, as opposed to Steve's.

Y/n wheeled her window down and gave Officer Robinson a brief hello before immediately asking what the hold up was. There was no other way of getting to the cabin, only through that road. She had already thrown a wrench into Steve's afternoon by letting him drive her home, she hated to think what a road blockage meant.

“It’s gonna be at least a few more hours until we can clear it, Y/n.”

She sighed, frustrated, knowing a few hours meant they may as well clear the rest of their day. She looked to Steve, her face riddled with worry, only to be meant with a calm gaze that brought her ease.

“We can come back later,” he said softly, his tone assuring her it was no biggie even though she knew it was more than a minor inconvenience. Y/n turned back to her dad's colleague.

“We’ll come back later, Robinson.”

The officer nodded and backed away so Steve could turn the car around. The first few minutes of the drive back to the main road was filled with Y/n apologising and asking if he was sure he didn't mind killing time with her. Steve assured her it was fine, but he knew she would be difficult to convince, so he suggested they make an adventure of it.

Apparently Hawkins had a hidden gem, a spot that Steve loved that he knew not many knew of, Y/n included. It was a lookout just around the corner from the post shop. Even through the torrential rain, the view was a sight for sore eyes. The two of them sat in silence at first, as Y/n looked around through the windshield. Then, she heard the faint sound of Steve's stomach rumbling. She turned to him and smiled, amused.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?"

“Starving," he answered. He was supposed to pick up something to eat after stopping at Melvald's, but ended up getting sidetracked and forgetting about it completely.

Y/n grinned before picking her bag up and placing it on her lap. She reached in and pulled out a small box, one ominously familiar to Steve.

“Good thing I picked up some donuts on my break," she exclaimed, opening the box up to reveal four of the custard donuts from her favourite bakery, the very donuts Steve teared up trying to stomach just a month ago.

He gulped as she picked two of the four donuts and handed, handing one to him. Thankfully, she looked away just as Steve began to grimace. He stared at the abomination and decided to try his luck at keeping Y/n distracted from realising that he had not and would not eat it.

It was a good thing the lookout oversaw such a nice view. Y/n was scoffing a donut down and going back to looking around.

“How have I not known about this lookout?”

Y/n had grown up in Hawkins just as Steve had. Hell, her dad was the sheriff of the damn town. She was so sure she knew the town back to front when Steve insinuated there was secret spot she did not know about.

“How did you find this place?”

“I have my ways," Steve shrugged. "This is my special spot.”

Y/n scrunched her nose up. Special, she repeated to herself. That was a loaded word.

“Don’t tell me this is where King Steve takes his dates," she grimaced. It was no secret Steve was a player and Y/n often had to remind herself that just because he was good to her, did not necessarily mean his entire persona had changed.

“No,” his answer came quick. Steve turned to her and waited until she was looking back. He needed her to know. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever brought here.”

She drew in a deep breath and as she breath out, her lips curved into a smile. No one had ever come close to making her feel the way Steve did. Y/n never thought of herself as someone who would have people lose to her. She was used to being alone and keeping everyone, even her own dad at an arm's length. It was better that way, safer. Then Steve came along, and all of that changed.

Y/n desperately wanted him to know that, but she could never bring herself to tell him. It was not the kind of thing friends told each other, and that was all she was to him.

He looked back at the view, and Y/n drew her attention back to her donut, taking another bite and anticipating having a second one.

“Ugh, this is just what I needed," she looked at Steve and realised he was still holding in his hand, though in a way that made her suspect he was trying to hide it. “You haven’t even eaten yours.”

Steve's face went red.

“Yeah… I’m pretty full already."

“But, you said you were starving."

Y/n drew her brows together in confusion and narrowed her eyes at him. He pursed his lips together and she could have sworn she heard him curse beneath his breath.

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

She couldn't understand it. Steve was starving and she gave him one of the best donuts in the state of Indiana, but he was refusing to eat it. Finally, it dawned on her.

“Steve. Do you not like the donuts?”

His silence was all the answer she needed. Y/n didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or let out a gasp. Either way, she could not make any sense of it.

“But you said you liked them when you first tried them!”

“I did! I…” Steve knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't dig himself deeper into lie that was only meant to be a little white one. He sighed. “They’re the worst donuts I’ve ever had.”

Y/n laughed curtly in disbelief. If Steve had told her he hated the donuts she loved so dearly, her ego might have been a bit bruised, but she would have been ok overall. She narrowed her eyes, puzzled by what went on beneath that beautiful head of hair.

“Why did you lie?”

Steve thought about it for only a moment. The reason was really quite simple.

“Because it made you happy,” he answered.

Her eyes went wide and everything inside her came to a stand still.

“Oh," was all she could mutter before averting her eyes from his intent gaze. She did not want to sit in silence any longer and let his words continue to simmer in her mind. Y/n knew her heart would not be able to bear it.

For the first time, Steve's car was beginning to suffocate her. Each passing second made her more and more conscious of just how close they were to each other. Y/n desperately needed a change of scenery.

“Hey, where’s that burger place you always talk about?

“It’s next to the post office."

Perfect, she thought. She needed to take a breather and Steve needed something to eat.

“Do you wanna go there and grab a bite?" Y/n quickly glanced at him, her heart still racing. "It’s gonna be a few more hours, anyways."

Steve agreed and started the car up again. It was a short and silent ride to the diner. Steve held the door to his car and the door to the diner open for Y/n, something he had developed a habit of doing, though she never thought much of it. Not until now.

The diner had only a handful of patrons when they got there. Steve muttered something about how he always sat at the counter so he could sneak a peek into the kitchen. The tension between them had begun to settle and by the time their food came, two orders of Steve's usual, things felt normal again.

Y/n took one bite of the burger Steve claimed was the best on the menu and he could hardly contain his anticipation. She chewed slowly, taking in the divine taste, with Steve watching her intently.

“Well, what do you think?”

She shook her head, taking a sip of her milkshake before going back in for more.

“I really wanted to hate it to get back at you for not liking the donuts,” she said honestly. It would have been nice to tease him for it, but there was nothing to tease about. Y/n sighed. “But these burgers are so good!“

After she took another bite, she heard a faint chuckle and realised Steve was smiling at her, clearly amused. Swallowing her bite, Y/n cleared her throat.

“What’s so funny?”

“You… you have a little..."

Before she knew what he was referring to, Steve lifted his hand and swiped his thumb over the left corner of Y/n's lips. Suddenly, she couldn't take her eyes off him. His hand was cool to the touch, but so soft and comforting, she wanted to lean into it. So she did.

After wiping away the mustard remnants, Steve locked eyes with Y/n, but only for a second. He had no time to register it. No time to chicken out and pull away. No time to reason with his anxieties. She leaned in and kissed him. Her hands rose to the sides of his face and he knew he was done for.

A moment passed and Y/n began to pull away, catching her breath as she opened her eyes and came face to face with the most dazed expression she had ever seen, and on Steve Harrington of all people. She could hardly believe that just happened, so much so, she let out a breathless laugh beneath her breath.

“You can’t do that," Steve whispered, pressing his temple against hers, his eyes going back and forth between her eyes and her lips “You can’t just kiss me like that then laugh it was nothing.”

She shook her head.

“It wasn’t nothing.”

Steve drew in a sharp breath and closed his eyes momentarily. The fearful voice in the back of his head was nowhere to be found. He looked at her and sighed.

“I like you, Y/n.”

She leaned back and stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You... You what?”

“I like you," he repeated, his voice a little louder. "I really really like you. I have for a while now.”

Y/n heaved, her eyes wide and stare blank.

“Really?”

Steve smiled softly.

“You haven’t noticed?”

He could have sworn there were multiple times he had been terribly obvious about it. After all, most of his afternoons and his weekends belonged to her, as did the passenger seat of his beloved BMW.

Y/n's heart never knew such a rush. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to kiss him again, but she couldn't bring herself to throw caution to the wind and risk getting hurt by yet another person she cared too much about for her own good.

"Are you being serious?"

Steve put his hand in her and laced their fingers together slowly.

“You... You do this thing with your hands when you're focused and at first I thought it was just a crush but then… Then I kept looking for excuses to talk to you. Just to hear you say my name again."

It was like nothing he had ever felt before.

"And I listened to that ‘60s song you said was your favourite," he added. The Bee Gees were not necessarily his kind of music, but the way she described it and the way her face lit up when she heard that one particular song made him want to listen to it everyday. "I even got it on cassette so I could just casually play it in my car. And I pretended to like those terrible donuts just ‘cause it made you smile, and-“

She did it again. Leaned in and kissed him softly, shutting him up completely, silencing every thought and every voice that echoed in his mind until all he could think about was the feeling of her touch.

Y/n pulled away quickly this time. She really only kissed him to shut him up long enough so she could finally get a word in.

“I like you too," she admitted, betraying the emotionally unavailable persona she once took great pride in maintaining and deciding she liked her odds when it came to Steve.

He stared at her, lifting his hands until the sides of her face were in between his left and right fingertips. He wanted to take it in for a moment. Just a moment. Then, he leaned in and kissed her, soft and fervently.

Even with her eyes closed, Y/n could picture everything around her glowing. Her suspicions were confirmed when they pulled apart and she looked around at a room that appeared tenfold brighter than she remembered. It had been a while since she felt anything close to that.

“Do you think the road’s clear now?” Steve asked, looking outside and realising the previously torrential rain had stopped completely.

“I don’t care," Y/n answered without waiting a beat or even taking a moment to look outside.

All she wanted was right there in that diner with her. Steve looked at her and reached for her hand, grinning like the lovestruck fool he knew he was and would always be for Y/n.

***

March, 1984

They opted for one of the booths that day. Steve said he was pissed off with his basket ball coach and needed to give Y/n a play by play of everything that went wrong. She happily obliged. It was a nice breather from being cooped up at the cabin all day with El.

When they walked in, the server at the counter recognised them and pointed to the day’s special written on a chalkboard displayed on the counter. Y/n took one look at it and realised what day it was.

“Lewinsky of all people, the benchwarmer can’t make a free throw to save his life and coach still put him on.” Steve packed a small handful of fries into his mouth and chewed, before looking up and realising his girlfriend was staring blankly at her food, her eyes glossed over. Slowly, he waved his hand a few inches in front of her face. “Y/n? Are you listening?”

She looked up and sniffled, quickly realising she had been too in her head to pay attention to Steve’s story. She shook her head and frowned apologetically.

“I’m sorry.”

Steve couldn’t even remember what he was annoyed about, not when there was something going wrong with Y/n. He moved his plate to the side and leaned his elbows on the edge of the table. Reaching his arm across the table, Steve took hold of her hand.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid,” she whispered, wiping her eyes, not wanting to dampen the mood any further. Steve knitted his brows together and shook his head.

“No it’s not.”

She was tearing up. Whatever it was, he knew it was a big deal to her, and so he couldn’t ignore it.

Y/n sighed, realising there was no use in trying to pull a brave face. Steve knew her too well to buy it. She drew in a sharp and shaky inhale before meeting his gaze, her eyes watering again from just the anticipation of saying it aloud.

“Today’s the anniversary of my mom’s death,” she explained in a hushed tone. Her lip quivered and her expression grew sheepish as she went to continue. “… And I completely forgot until now.”

The day used to carry so much weight to her. Her emotions would usually begin to deplete at the beginning of month and she would spend the entire day wallowing alone at home. Now it completely snuck up on her and she hated herself for it.

Steve shrunk back, at a loss for words. Only one came to mind.

“Shit.”

“I’ll be ok, I just-“ Y/n cleared her throat and wiped her tears away. She could wallow later but it wasn’t fair to Steve to do it now. “Finish your story.”

His expression was unmoved.

“Your mom... What was she like?”

Steve spoke cautiously, knowing it was the most delicate of matters when it cane to Y/n’s life. He had always been curious, but never wanted to pry. If there was ever a day to ask, he figured it would be today. Deep down, he knew Y/n wanted to talk about her too.

“You don’t have to do this, Steve,” she whispered.

“I know," he took hold of her hand again.

Steve didn't have the best relationship with his mom, but from the few times she brought her up in conversation, he knew Y/n had a good one with hers. A great one. He wanted to know more about it.

“How did she- uhm… never mind,” Steve shook his head and dismissed the thought, scared it was too sensitive of a question.

“It’s ok, Steve,” Y/n assured him.

He wasn't the first person to ask her how her mom died, and unlike almost everyone else who did, he didn't annoy the crap out of her.

She used to dread having the dead mom conversation with people that came into her life, but it didn't feel that way with Steve. Y/n didn't feel like a news story or neighbourhood gossip or the town's sob story.

“Was she sick?” Steve asked hesitantly.

It was hard to make any conclusions about Y/n's mom, given how little he knew about her. There were rumours that spread around town when she passed, but Steve couldn't bring himself to buy into any of it. It didn't feel right. Though he and Y/n were barely friends, they had been classmates for as long as he could remember. He still remembered seeing her the day she came back to school some time after the funeral.

He always wondered what happened, and how Y/n managed to get through it at such a young age.

“She got into a car accident," she explained. "A drunk driver hit her, and she died a few days after.”

Y/n remembered the torrential rain that fell that night. She remembered the phone ringing in the middle of the night and the scream her dad let out after he collapsed on the floor. She remembered her mom's sister coming into town the next day, and how she knew that was a bad sign. Everything that came after was a blur to her.

Steve squeezed her hand three times and offered a small smile.

“What was she like?”

Her eyes began to light up. That was the one question that she loved being asked when it came to talking about her mom.

“She was great,” Y/n started, the corners of her lips perking up as she remembered, not the rain or the phone call or aunt Jenna, but her mom. “… She was the best, actually.”

“I bet she was,” Steve smiled.

Y/n grinned, meeting his gaze. If he only knew.

“She was twice as strict as my dad,” Y/n explained. Steve was surprised, just as she expected. “But anytime I was having a bad day she used to sneak into my room with a tub of ice cream and two spoons.”

Her mom wouldn't even have to ask. If Y/n had a certain expression, or slammed her bedroom door a certain way, or said goodnight with a certain tone, her mom would be at her side with their favourite dessert. She had a sixth sense when it came to her daughters, and it wasn't until she passed, and took with her their ice cream nights, that Y/n realised how much missed it.

“Sounds familiar,” Steve chuckled, remembering El mention something about how Y/n had special ice cream in the freezer.

She grinned. Y/n always loved it when others drew similarities between her and her mom. She took pride in it. To her, the more she took after her mom, the less she took after her dad.

“People said I looked just like her too,” Y/n beamed. “Same hair, same eyes… Same laugh.”

“Yeah?”

Y/n nodded, chuckling beneath her breath. It was the one sound she would probably never forget. As strict as her mom was, Y/n grew up hearing her laughter almost all of the time. Hers and her dad's.

“My dad would tell the most stupid jokes all the time," Y/n explained, a bittersweet feeling settling in her chest. "—and she’d laugh at every single one… even when she was angry with him.”

She would give anything to relive a moment like that again. To hear that sound again in reality and not in memory. To eat ice cream and rest her head on her mom's shoulder, letting go of whatever was burdening her.

“I wish I got to meet her,” Steve mumbled, hoping it didn't sound silly to Y/n. In truth, he had met her a few times in passing, but those didn't count to him. He wished he got to meet her as the mother of the girl he loved.

“Me too,” Y/n smiled weakly. She thought about it often as well.

“Do you think she would’ve liked me?”

Steve pursed his lips together forming a sheepish grin. He thought about that a lot. Though it was merely a hypothetical, it was oddly important to him that she would have.

Y/n gave it a moment's deliberation and smiled.

“Yeah,” she laughed. “She would’ve.”

There was no doubt about it. She would have been skeptical about how much pride he took in his hair and in his car, but she would have seen how much he loves and care for Y/n and that would have been enough for her.

The more Y/n thought about it, the more she realised that, wherever she was, her mom would not be holding it against her that she forgot what today was. If anything, she would have been happy. She would have been happy Y/n wasn't wallowing anymore. That she had someone to lean on now, who didn't let her carry her burdens alone. That her sweet Y/n was so busy making good memories with someone she loved, she forget to remember the bad ones that once debilitated her.

***

December, 1984

Steve stood at the gym entrance and scanned the room. Dustin didn't have to be told twice before racing past him to find his friends. Finally, Steve spotted her standing with El by the bleachers in the same dress she wore to their high school winter dance. She had her arms crossed. That was never a good sign.

“If it isn’t the two prettiest girls in Hawkins,” he sang, approaching the Hopper girls with a nervous smile. Y/n was glaring daggers at him.

“I see Mike,” El chirped, eager to leave Steve to deal with the mess he made.

With El gone, Steve inched closer to Y/n, his arms instinctively reaching for her waist only to be swatted away.

“You’re late, Harrington."

He promised her he would be early, and he knew how much Y/n dreaded having to deal with their old teachers herself. And after all, he was the only reason she agreed to chaperone the middle school dance.

Steve froze, his expression equivalent to that of a kicked puppy.

“Woah. Harrington?” Steve held his hand to his chest. He knew she would be mad at him, but calling him by his last name was a low blow. “C’mon, I’m only a few minutes late.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, pushing him away as he leaned in to steal a quick peck.

“First of all, there’s a no kissing rule."

The teacher in charge, Mrs Bernstein was very clear about that rule. That was, after a long-winded story about renovations they made to the science labs and then a lecture about the problem with today's youth.

“Second of all," Y/n added. "You can’t talk me into signing up to be a chaperone with you just to show up late and leave me to face Mrs Bernstein on my own.”

It will be fun, he told her. We'll be doing it together. Y/n wanted to make him pay for every second she had to plaster on a smile and supervise middle schoolers on her own.

Steve grimaced.

“Bernstein still works here?”

“Yes, and I volunteered you to be on snack table duty with her for the first hour.”

Y/n gestured to the opposite end of the gym where the elderly lady was waiting with likely a million stories with a million details and no end. She smirked, pleased with herself.

“Have fun.”

Steven turned to his girlfriend and pouted. She wasn't really going to make him do that, he thought. Y/n patted his back and pushed him forward, proving him wrong.

Bernstein was just as he remembered her, boring as hell. Steve lasted half an hour before he started looking around the gym, searching for an out.

Luckily, he spotted two kids sneaking out of the gym just as Bernstein was wrapping up her spiel about the price of gas. He never thought of himself as a snitch, but if it meant getting to his girl and getting his kiss, he did what was necessary.

With Bernstein gone, all that was left to do was pay Mike five dollars to watch the snack table, and he was making his was to Y/n. She still had her arms crossed, but Steve had a feeling her stance would change. He stood beside her, close enough so that she could hear him over the music.

“Dustin had a hair emergency and asked me to stop by his house on the way here," he explained. "It took a lot longer than I expected."

Steve was expecting a comb and a bit of mousse would fix it, but when he realised what he was working with, he had no choice but to start from scratch.

“Ok... that’s pretty sweet," Y/n sighed, her lips perking at the thought of it, her arms instinctively falling to her sides. Steve started to smile and pulled a small box from his jacket pocket.

“Then, since I was already running late, I decided make another stop so I could pick up this."

He held the box out for Y/n. With narrowed eyes, she opened it slowly, revealing a small corsage. It cost him twice the normal price and a full five minutes of begging, but the florist was able to pull together a boutonniere for Dustin and a corsage for Y/n in a moment's notice.

“Still mad at me?”

“No,” she grinned, holding her wrist out so he could put the corsage on for her. After tying it on, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. Y/n held the side of his face, running his fingers along his cheek until her eyes landed on the bruise still evident around his eye.

She frowned. Even a week after his fist fight with Billy, his face was still slow to clear up. She studied the bruising and scarring closely, her brows crinkled together in concern.

“Does your face still hurt?”

“Only a little,” he assured her, gently pulling her hand away before she got herself worked up again.

“He’s such a piece of shit," Y/n muttered.

"I know," he laughed.

They turned their attention back to the kids they were meant to be chaperoning, but his hand never left hers. She couldn't stop thinking about that fight. She brushed her shoulder against his and offered a playful smile.

“I reckon I could have taken him if you hadn’t stood in my way."

Another kick to the groin, and Billy would have been crawling away. That was what she told herself every time she remembered her boyfriend catching a fist that was alarmingly close to colliding with her face.

“Of course you would have," Steve smiled, squeezing her hand three times and playing along with the hypothetical she had clearly been building up in her mind. But deep down, he knew he was never gonna let her find out.

***

i do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, translated or reposted onto another site.

cardigan series taglist:

@littlepadfootmoony @geeksareunique @agustdeeyaa @babygirlwilly @rqmanoff @midnightsgetawaycar @ilovereadingfanfics @lou-la-lou @dickgraysonspersonalwhore @starkleila @shireentapestry

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Wherever I rest my head is home if it's with you

Part 3, On the hunt

Masterlist Word count: 3.2 k Charles Smith x Fem!Reader Arthur Morgan x Mary Linton John Marston x Abigail Roberts Dutch Van der Linde x Molly O'Shea Mary-Beth Gaskill x Kieran Duffy

Summary: Looking for gold is a men's world in a town run by women. The amounts of violence and suffering these men go through with the hope of getting rich is insanity. Gold fever broke marriages and relationships alike until the settlement was nearly all women.  It's a small settlement, nearly a small town, next to the Elysian Pool. Most men red hot with gold fever pass through to stock up on supplies before heading down to the mines near Beaver's Hallow or Annesburg.  The settlement has only one law set in stone, as lawmen do not want to come there, and it is praised like it was one of the ten commandments. You do not harm the women.

Preview

'There's something off about those fellers,' you state sluggishly, wildly swinging the whiskey bottle in your hand around, 'they ask too many questions.' Mary-Beth chuckles and puts a hand on your shoulder to distract you as she takes away the bottle with her other hand. You look up at her with furrowed brows and lean your head against her leg. While most of the women sit spread out on the three logs that are used as benches on the land behind Sadie's house, you have always been a ground person. Molly and Karen were ground people like you but now you're on the ground all on your own. In your intoxicated state, that makes you very sad but you don't hang onto it for too long as another thought grabs your attention.  Normally you play a bit of guitar for the group but last time you all got together, you had lent your guitar to Mary-Beth who promptly broke all the strings while trying to tune it. God, how you miss that Javier feller that passed through a few months ago. He sang the sweetest songs and could make you sing as well. A quiet giggle leaves your lips.  'All men ask questions. Difference is that most men don't make you nervous,' she teases. Tilly and Abigail chuckle in return while Sadie rolls her eyes.  'You ain't got nothing to laugh about miss Roberts,' you state loudly, 'you're tripping over your own feet around that scar faced feller.' Abigail turns a bright shade of red as she tries to avoid eye contact with Sadie, but she's already seen and leans up against her.  'Oh, our sweet miss Roberts has finally found someone to bed,' she teases as she throws her arm around Abigail to pull her as close as she can. Abigail pushes her off and huffs while scooting away from Sadie.  'Ain't nothing like that. The boy is just... charmingly stupid. That's all.'  'No use in defending yourself now, sweetheart,' Mary-Beth teases.  'Yeah, we both saw,' Tilly adds. Abigail groans.  'Fine, yes, John is adorable. I don't know what it is about him ‘cause he's dumb as nails. He told me he can't even swim,' she vents to the group, 'but my stomach tingles around him. It's terrible.'  'Have they gone past the gun store yet, Mary,' Sadie questions as she looks over to Mary.  'No, I haven't seen them yet. Why? Are they all handsome,' she jokes with a teasing wiggle of her brow. You sigh, but it comes out as more of a lovesick groan. The girls laugh and you lean your head down to cover your face with your hat as you lean back against the log.  'That's one way to answer that question,' Mary-Beth teases, 'you got the hots for one of them, Lucky?'  'Piss off.'  'Weren't you sweet on that Mexican feller just a few weeks back,' Mary teases, taking your hat off your head to see your embarrassed expression.  'No, no, that was just another notch on her bedpost,' Abigail jokes, 'no feelings there, right Lucky?'  'I could've sworn she was in love the way she looked at him those nights at the campfire,' Tilly continues as you snatch your hat back from Mary.  'Same thing with that Charles feller, ain't it,' Sadie suggests with a grin, 'I heard you didn't even try to shoot him when he made fun of how you get on your horse.'  'Didn't need to,' you grumble, annoyed and blushing.  'So what is this I heard about you going hunting with Charles,' Tilly teases.  'Okay, fine, that's enough,' you bark. The mood drops for a second. You don't mind being the bud of the joke for a bit but you let them know when it's been enough and they respect it. Least they could do is respect it after all you've done for this goddamn town. 'Anyway, what’s this I heard about them looking for Dutch Van der Linde and Micah Bell?' The mood flips from light and careless to tight and anxious within a second. Those are not well-liked people to say the very least and none of you have good memories of them.

[viviennewestwooddoll]

I Hope You Had The Time Of Your Life Ch. 1

BSD High School AU

title stole from Green Day

wc: 3k

dt to hannah for proofreading and helping me make the character sheets for this

don't take anything i write serious this was purely made for comedy lol

Tags: crack fic, high school au, slowburn kinda?, minors using substances (weed and alcohol), brain rot, american hs experience, me projecting

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

Summer had passed by, memories of the season drifting afar. Which in turn, means the students of Yokohama high school were set to return on the first of September. Obviously, nobody was excited. 

Atsushi Nakajima had spent his summer slaving away at Chick Fil A. The pay was terrible, but he wasn't in it for the money. Moreso, on the last day, Kunikida Doppo, his upperclassman, ranted to him about the importance of staying busy over the summer for colleges to see, and how good it would look on his transcript.

“Atsushi, you cannot fall into lazy patterns over the summer. You don't want to be unemployed like Dazai,” he said, sneering at the man who lazily laid in the courtyard during their lunch break. 

“Kunikida, not everyone wants to spend their life working for someone, I have the rest of my life to want to kill myself from working a 9-5, so let me be a bum a bit until then, mkay?” Dazai said smugly without even bothering to look up

Before Kunikida could even respond to Dazai by yelling, Atsushi interrupted.

“Okay fine, I need extra cash anyways,” he said, thinking of all the Chazuke he could buy that summer. 

Atsushi's first mistake was believing Kunikida when he said it was a good job. The amount of times he worked longer than minors were even allowed to, waking up at 6 AM on a saturday to get to work by 7, and standing under the scorching sun with a  stupid smile plastered on his face made him want to just throw off his namepin and quit. But, he enjoyed the routine in a way. Despite the annoyances of rude customers and such, he enjoyed having a purpose and working towards something, in this case his $7/hour pay (money is money) and did not want to be rotting his summer away. 

Unfortunately for him, when Dazai found out his schedule, he would never know peace again. 

“Hey Atsushi,” Dazai once slurred. 

It was almost 10 PM on a Friday, and Dazai appeared beside Chuuya Nakahara in his red camry, who seemed aggravated. 

“Im high as fuck” Dazai said slowly, grinning. 

Atsushi stood there, petrified, what was he supposed to do? He couldn't just yell at Dazai for bothering him at work, especially since he was under the influence, because his boss will definitely see and fire him for “not putting the customer first”, then call the cops on Dazais since he was a minor and reeking of weed. 

“I'm sorry Atsushi,” Chuuya said, giving him a sympathetic look. “He was pissing me off and said he said he would shut up once he had Chick-Fil-A, never thought you worked here or I wouldn't have taken him here. Probably McDonalds or Cookout.”

“Are you..” Atusshi asked, confused if Chuuya was driving while stoned.

Chuuya smirked, “Fuck yeah, but my tolerance is better than this motherfucker,” he said, pointing to Dazai staring straight and laughing at nothing. 

Atsushi stood meekly with the tablet, unsure how to handle this.

“Um okay, what do you want?” He sighed.

“I'll get the grilled sandwich and a diet lemonade, coach is making us cut since the season is about to start,” Chuuya said flatly as he rolled his eyes.

“Yo Dazai, what do you want? Don’t drain my wallet–the auto shop doesn't pay me as much as you think,” Chuuya said as he turned to Dazai, who Atsushi was now concerned for if he was greening out or not.

“Atsushi, what's the cheapest thing you have here?” Dazai said, suddenly focused.

“Probably a kids meal,” Atsushi said, as he added a 5 ct nugget with a toy.

“Okay, get me that. And then get me 20 more of those.” Dazai said, giggling like a little school girl. 

“WHAT THE-” Chuuya angrily turned, screaming at the man.

Atsushi stood awkwardly, watching the scene of Chuuya strangling Dazai. They argued whether or not Dazai would get 20 kids' meals, then if Dazai would get to keep all 20 toys. Before they could kill each other, he butted in.

“You do realize we close in five? If you both want food, its a yes or no-”

“YES,” Dazai screamed as he leaned over Chuuyas seat to submit the order through Atushi’s tablet.

“THERES NO FUCKING WAY YOU DID THAT– DUMBASS BITCH YOU’RE PAYING FOR YOUR SHIT”

Atushsi rolled his eyes, submitting the order as he swiped Chuuyas card, going to warn his co workers or the 100 nuggets they would prepare in 5 minutes (he would be outcast for weeks because of this incident). 

School was on the cusp of starting, leaving Atsushi dreading balancing work and his academics as well as lacrosse.

As he watched the mindless tiktoks Dazai sent him which rotted his attention span and brain capacity, he saw that Tanizaki had texted him through Snap. 

heluvsnaomi: hey atsushi

beastbeneaththesheets: yea?

heluvsnaomi: you got your schedule yet? Mine is so bad bro

beastbeneaththesheets: damn i didnt even check

beastbeneaththesheets: shit mines bad, i have foods, math 2, biology but then journalism so W

heluvsnaomi: ok we have our last two together at least lets go

heluvsnaomi: is akutagawa in any of your classes?

Atsushi scoffed, remembering whose name that belonged to.

 Akutagawa was the most miserable person he knew. He has stupid headphones on at all times; Atsushi once peeked over to see who was playing and Akutagawa glared at him, then showed up the next day with a privacy screen. That really pissed Atsushi off. It's not like he's asking him his deepest secret, he was just curious to what bands someone as moody as Akutgawa would like. He’s very antisocial and uncomfortable to talk to. Atsushi had tried to get to know him, and was rudely ignored by him. After that, Atsushi had a grudge towards him, to which Junichiro agreed was valid. When he brought up his name in a rant to Dazai as they did their daily Fortnite grind, Dazai laughed, saying he used to “bully the shit out of him” in middle school. Even though Akutagawa was rude, Atsushi couldn't help but feel bad. To which extent, Dazai admitted calling him emo and teasing him for his hobbies, which Atushsi disapproved of making someone feel ashamed for being passionate in their interests. 

beastbeneaththesheets: fuck let me check

Atsushi logged onto canvas, praying he would never interact with Akutagawa again. But to his dismay, he wouldn't achieve this dream. 

Foods 2: Akutagawa Ryunosuke 

Math 2: Akutagawa Ryunosuke 

Biology Honors: Akutagawa Ryunosuke 

Of course he's in every one of my classes, the white haired boy thought to himself. He sighed, screenshotting and sending it to both Dazai and Tanizaki. This better be a filler year I swear. Unfortunately for Atsushi, he never did quite get what he wanted. 

At 6:30 AM, Atsushi Nakajimas alarm went off. He got ready with his new clothes he had gotten for his back to school shopping, and prepared his bag with his charged chromebook. He waited at the bus stop, getting ready to close his eyes for a bit before he saw Tanizaki. 

“Yo Atsushi!” the orange haired man waved to him. Atsushi smiled, taking a seat with him. 

“Hey man, how’ve you been? Haven't seen you since that party Yosano threw for the fourth of July,” Atsushi said as he threw his bag on the floor. 

“You know the usual,” he said with a shrug, as if it was a cue, his weird sister Naomi came to hug him from behind. They were very close, and Tanizaki pushed her off. Atsushi smiled awkwardly, nodding towards her. 

I need off this bus, he thought to himself. 

As the bus approached his school, Atsushi walked with Tanizaki, Naomi now chatting with their fellow classmate Haruno. 

“I don't know what I'm gonna do, Akutagawa is in every single class except journalism, but usually journalism will only ever be us,” Atsushi sighed. 

“That sucks, I'd actually fight my counselor,” Tanizaki laughed. 

“Right ugh, I guess I’ll see you at lunch though right? Kunikida has lunch with us too, so that's good at least.” Atsushi asked.

“The courtyard right?” Tanizxaki asked as he approached his class.

Atusshi nodded, parting ways with him. He just had to thug out this semester, and he would be fine. It's not like he would be interacting with Akutagawa at every given moment of the day, right? 

Atsushi walked in, recognizing everyone that he hadn't seen since last year. Being a student council officer (another role that was forced upon him) had its perks, he had to interact with everyone and learned a bit of each student. He had class, of course with Yosano and Ranpo. Both were the most unserious duo he knew. Ranpo often offended teachers with his backtalk, and would always go to the office but of course, since he had fostered a close relationship with Fukuzawa, he was able to talk him out of any trouble with the principal Natsume; he never got in any actual trouble. His fat ass was always eating in the back of classes, at least Atsushi assumed he was. Ranpo was super smart, having taken all AP classes the school provided, never interacting with Atsushi last year because of that, as well as for the former being a freshman while the latter being a junior. He had met him in journalism, which Dazai convinced him to join when he came to represent the class as a promoter, prompting the incoming freshman to join, successfully persuading Atsushi. The class was nothing like Dazai said it was, being more grueling and on a time crunch rather than the “filler block” Dazai promised (maybe for him it was, since all he did was sleep in the room that contained the computers to edit and archives of the newspaper spanning to the 70s). Despite that, he loved the class, meeting his closest friends, as well as gaining a new sense of confidence from being forced to interact with all types of students, making him sure of himself. Ranpo was the opinion editor, a filling role for him since he always had something to say. In fact, Atsushi's first day of journalism in which he pitched his ideas for the paper had Ranpo telling him “his idea was shit” without a stutter. Atsushi almost quit right there. He could contribute the least, yet always have the most popular page.  That was Ranpo for you, being naturally talented in creating eye-catching visuals and attention-grabbing headlines. Then there was Yosano, his partner in crime. She was one of the most blunt people Atsushi knew, circling such minor mistakes such as expletives on a paper, and making Atsushi feel self conscious of his writing. Outside the class though, she was a raging party girl, in which her private spam “yosanoandranpolovealcohol” had fostered a series of (mainly) Yosano drunkenly singing or doing insane things that cannot be mentioned. She was never one to back down from someone picking on the underclassmen, having argued with their classmates for being rude to Atsushi when he was more shy.  For that, Atsushi respected her.

“Hey Atsushi,” Yosano called out to him. “Haven't seen you since Fourth of July!” 

Atushsi smiled, approaching their station. 

“How do you even remember that? Me and Poe had to drag you upstairs before you barfed and embarrassed yourself,” Ranpo snickered, eating their materials to cook for the day. 

Yosano glared at him. “Its called high toleranc-” this time Atsushi laughed. 

“Sorry Yosano, I didn't take you to have a high alc tolerance,” Atsushi snorted. 

“Just wait until I get your first draft, Atsushi,” she said, staring at him with a straight face.  

Atsushi’s eyes widened, now walking towards his own station fearing for his safety. 

He continued scoping the room, seeing randoms, as well as Tachihara and Motojiro Kaji, the latter his upperclassman Yosano swore to murder, in which she retold a story from freshman year of him saying they failed a lab because Yosano “was a stupid girl who couldn't follow instructions”.  Needless to say, Kaji and Yosano were both sent to the office that day from broken beakers and spilled chemicals. Tachihara, on the other hand, was in his grade. He was always stoned, being the epitome of the word stoner. He was always in the stalls, his fryd bar masking any smell in the bathroom, but Atsushi didn't think it smelt any better than that. Everyone knew that if you wanted a smoke, all you had to do was slide up in his DMS and you could get high faster than Kaji exploded that lab. He was loud, often hanging around Chuuya, so it didn't take one too long to consider what Nakahara did in his free time. Despite that, he was rather chill, but Atsushi didn't really care much for him. 

Then he spotted that messy black hair, with a case of a badly cut fringe. Ryunosuke Akutagawa. Atsushi sighed, glaring at him as he walked in. He can't forget the time he offered him a bracelet for student council and Akutagwa said no, purposely bumping into him to spill the entire basket of dozens of bracelets

Sitting at a random table by himself, Atushsi smirked, seeing that he had no friends. Serves him right for being so moody. As the teacher walked in, she saw that everyone was sitting in whatever seat. Sighing, she clapped her hands, grumbling how nobody paid attention to the name tags she had placed on each table. Looking around, he saw Tachihara nodding at Yosano, trading with her so she didn't have to sit next to Kaji since her assigned seat would have been there, fearing for an incident that would leave his friend in the office again, as well as just wanting to have a familiar face rather than listen to Ranpo be a know-it-all. 

So whos sitting next to m-

Akutagawa Ryunosuke, 10th Grade

Atusushi groaned, seeing Akutagawa approach him, refusing to make eye contact. As the teacher began her introduction, she moved onto actually instructing them to cook.

Atsushi nudged Akutagawa. “So you going to listen, or am I gonna cook for both of us,” he said solemnly. 

“I can figure it out myself, how hard is cooking anyways?”

Well apparently impossible. 

Akutagawa managed to make something that crossed a biohazard and chemical waste, how? Atsushi couldn't tell you. 

“Dude! You used all our materials! We’re so cooked we couldn't even redo it because class is over. I told you to let me help you, I actually listened to her instructions unlike you!” He practically yelled, garnering everyone's attention. 

“Like I would trust any food you make. You wouldn't do any better than me anyways,” Akutagawa said, rolling his eyes. 

“Aight bet, tomorrow I'm going to make the best food you've had–hell I make nuggets for Chick Fil A! I definitely know how to cook more than you. Pissing me off, got an F on the first day,” Atushsi said angrily, purposely bumping into his headphones to knock him off the table. 

Before Akutagawa could yell at him, he leaves class, power walking to English. 

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. He had English with Akutagawa– Gin that is. She was much more tolerable than her brother, being concerned with Higuchi on whatever superficial thing was relevant to them, gossiping while typing furiously on their phones. He had some acquaintances that he had in classes before sitting with them. Biology with Tanizaki was boring. They received an “All About Me” packet, filling it out as they discussed meaningless topics to pass time. Then came journalism.

Atsushi walked in to see Yosano sitting with Ranpo, both drinking an energy drink. Just by their energy, Atsushi could tell they had senioritis and were checked out. Walking in with Atsushi was Edgar Allen Poe. He was a strange one, hair covering his eyes. If you told anyone he was the editor in chief last year they would be shocked. He had a vision for the paper that always executed well, and was one of the best writers Atsushi knew, but his confidence didn't match his skill set. He seemed as if he was worried what everyone thought of him at all times, staying quiet and leaving 0 presence in a room. Despite Atsushi being his junior by two years, he always seemed anxious when Atsushi read his work. Which Atsushi didn't understand, he could make an article of redoing the parking lot the best written on the page. He sat with Ranpo and Yosano, both loudly greeting him and showing him some TikTok they were giggling over. 

In the corner sitting on a hightop table was Kunikida, furiously typing away at a schedule to release each article. “Boy, hurry. We're behind schedule already. If we want to stay on track, brainstorming needs to be done by tomorrow.”

Dazai, sitting on the couches centered in the room, snorted. “Kunikida, when have we ever printed on time?” 

Atsushi sat next to the tall brunette, relaxing into the seat. Atsushi always loved how this class mimicked a family, everyone being comfortable enough to be themselves. The classroom was set up differently than the standard sterile class, having the big lights off with fairy lights, a candle burning, and couches alongside posters. The teacher, Fukuzawa, had invested towards his students feeling like this could be their safe space. He obviously succeeded, having a dozen or so students in this class that refused to drop the class even if it messed up their schedule. 

Fukuzawa welcomed the class back, which usually never changed its lineup since it was just returners. “I'm glad to have you all back, I’m sure we can guarantee that we will outdo the yearbook in popularity again,” he announced.

Everyone cheered, determined to outdo their rivals. Mori Ougai had advised the class, taking it up after working at the school long enough as the nurse. Atsushi had a personal vendetta against them, trying to force an interview on him for Fitzgerald’s finance class he took last year, finding out the former had bribed the yearbook with donations if they got a whole spread towards students hyping the class to encourage more to join. And who was forcing said interview on him? Akutagawa, of course. 

“I'm sure I can expect great things from you all,” Fukuzawa continued. “But for today, we will just get to the standard ‘welcome back’ nonsense despite the fact we all know each other,” he said smiling lightly. “For the sake of an easy first day—but don't expect to slack again after today,” he said, eyeing Dazai, making Atsushi snicker.   

For the rest of class, Atsushi just caught up with his friends. Atsushi discussed his work schedule with Kunikida, and picked up on conversations of Ranpo and Poe discussing a new mystery novel, while Yosano harassed Tanizaki with videos of him at the party she hosted. Dazai did his usual: napping in the backroom, before Kunikida could drag him out for making a bed out of previous papers they had worked on. 

Atsushi thought to himself that he wouldn't trade this class for the world, smiling as he imagined how this school year could go. Unfortunately for him, this is as peaceful as it will get.

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

[quinloki]

What's your writing process like? Do you draft everything at once and then release chapter by chapter as you edit or something similar?

How to you keep your notes organized? I think you've said before in an ask you use Scrivener (me too!), how do you organize that? I love seeing peoples writing processes in general, if your comfortable explaining!!

Okay you're awesome thank you 💛

Process. Ah. Ahem. Organization... /sweats/

Okay, so organization I have something like that. Thanks almost entirely to Scrivener if I'mma be honest. My projects are organized by blorbo - so like all the Kid x Readers are in one project, and then broken down in files by book.

Except for A Light Touch - cause that's in the Grandline AU collection project, and all associated stories are in there with it.

Notes, though, and er... drafts... Ah.

So I would like to note I mean this in the stereotypical pop culture way, and not in the legitimate way, but I'm insane.

I have never known how long a story was going to be until I wrote it, and while I've had a few slapdash outlines for stories, I never manage to stick to them, so I barely even bother writing them out anymore.

Usually the process is something like:

Inspiration -> Idea -> details for Idea -> some notes -> decide certain parameters -> and time allowing either set aside or start writing chapter 1.

Quicksand, for instance, was inspired by a piece of fan art. It was going to be a one-shot. I started world-building and deciding functional parameters and uh... it's 20 chapters if you don't count the alternative story line. The inspired scene doesn't even happen until like chapter 18.

And even within that, I'd meant for Crocodile to be way more terrifyingly yandere to the point that Doflamingo was going to be the GOOD GUY.

That was the plan. That did not happen.

Inversely, I had the first 5 chapters of A Dragon's Clause outlined, and got so into it those 5 chapters were 8 chapters when I ran out of outline. There are, however, THREE different pages of notes for world building, characters and orgs, and important details, that I reference while I write, and I very much expect the story will be near to 50 chapters, if not longer.

Hey Doll has no outline. It's got a page of notes.

The Host Club AU as nothing set in stone except the Club itself and the owners. Yeah I did some headcanoning and world building via asks, but I still don't know what I'm going to keep and what I'm going to cut, and I'm going to start writing chapter one in June XD There is no outline.

Hell, the ending of a Heart of Gold was decided by a scene in A Light Touch, so one of the reasons I'm going to a little slower than usual is because I have to make sure Heart stays on track. (And yes, A Light Touch, Quicksand, Heart of Gold, and Thrice Prophesized all happen in the same AU at the same time - it's not just a backdrop AU for those stories like it is for Some Direction and Hey Doll.)

But yeah, that's uh... that's it. I don't really have much of a process beyond "This is what I want to work on" and then I turn on a appropriately themed playlist, pick some art to have on one monitor and write on the other. And honestly, thank fuck for like @swampstew, @mamaalpha, @standfucker, @lyndsyh24, @writing-yarn-goblin, @kazieai, @anon-germany, @theaceofflamesposts, @zorostittiesz, @leakyweep, @icy-spicy and @thus-spoke-lo and @mewiyev for all being awesome fucking friends.

Between writing sprints, and beta-reading and inspiring with head canons and thots and art and support and the list goes on and on - I just. (and gods that's not even including @friedbluechicken and @cyborg-franky and can you understand how long this list is gonna get?)

I just kind of stumbled into this whole fandom thing. I didn't know wtf I was doing or what, and I swear I tripped into being friends with Lyn and Raven and it's all kind of a blur and from those two to everyone else on that list to many more beyond that and these alarmingly talented people talk to me of all the random ass bastards out there, and folks are sending me asks thinking I'm cool and wanting to know my process and like -

I'm just a stoat in a trench coat man, I don't even know what I'm doing here.

/ahem/ Okay, I got a little off the topic, but I guess I can't really say I have a process, and I don't plan out my stories much at all. But I will have highlights like I want x, y, and q to happen, so how do I do that? And the real relief is being okay when the story goes a different way and I just let it. I wrote Some Direction inside of a month just doing that. The only thing I knew about that story was who the antagonist was going to be ^^;

[itsbenedict]

From the beginning | Previously | Coin standings | 60/70 | 36/36

Walter wants to go check out what was happening down in that sunken temple, but Adea doesn't want to just leave all this dirt sitting here- and she's just plugged in that coin miner thingy, so they'll need to sit around for a bit to see if it works anyway.

IT PREVENTED ROOK POWER EXTRUSION is OVIOS NETWORK EXPENDITURE REPORT. Apparently, about 14 years ago, the municipal government started deploying some project called the OpenVista I/O Station network. OPENVISTA is, on paper, an independent startup, but apparently it's a shell corporation established so Thinrar could dodge some of his own restrictions on public works. The report details the budget that went into constructing and deploying these things- though it's not clear from the report exactly what they do.

Apparently a construction company called WIREFRAME MOCKUP was hired to simultaneously build a mall named TARGETED ADVERTISING... and force an underground funeral home type facility run by SLEEP MODE to surrender something called the LOTUS VEXOR, in exchange for letting them keep the rights to their land (which they'd been retroactively granted thanks to a surveying loophole). The project took years and went way over budget, despite someone named DEADLOCK DETECTION being sent from Thinrar's office to oversee it personally. But 14 years ago, she apparently managed to get her hands on it- a key component of the OVIOS network, somehow. The cover op, the mall construction, is set to open in a few days.

TIN RUNT CONCOCTS A QUART O' CACTI concerns an AQUATIC CONSTRUCTION CONTRACT, offered by COLLUSION to a well-regarded specialist contractor named REGRESSION TEST. It's mostly an email chain with said contractor, who had a thousand questions about the nature of the work and the equipment she was being paid to install. The emails- sent to her by someone named JUST-IN-TIME COMPILER- are evasive and noncommittal, and seem primarily concerned with getting her to agree to various nondisclosure agreements and security measures.

REGRESSION TEST's job, apparently, is just to demolish the wreckage at the build site, create some waterproof housing with enough space for maintenance staff, and install the provided equipment. That's all she's allowed to know about the HILARITY! BE A FILIAL E-CYGNET.

SPRITZ? REPENT, WRY ED COOLHAXX! is a strange set of files called PROXY WIZARD CONTEXT HELPERS. It's a dossier on... various random people in town. A university researcher with no friends, a family of small-time crooks down by the docks, various guards at this very tower, and a handful of other random citizens with no clear connecting factors. The files describe the details of their lives over a disconcertingly long period of observation, and note things that are missing from those lives. Family members they don't have, friends they've lost contact with, coworkers who quit recently. There's transcripts of interviews with some of these people, but nothing stands out as particularly odd.

There's also profiles on various properties for rent, and some odd shorthand notes that appear to describe how long they've spent vacant and what's wrong with them. And... a bunch of copies of old missing persons cases, with all the names blacked out. And statements from investigations of incidents where... disasters were averted for reasons no one understood, like an out-of-control trolley being diverted onto a track by some good samaritan who never identified themselves.

[ed: Yeah, chew on that one, FF. You'll find out what I'm on about eventually.]

This is all weird, and rings a few bells, but you're not sure what to make of it just yet. In the meantime, Adea collects 10 Coin from the minter- which seems to have really raised the ambient temperature in the room. It's probably fine, though, right? The heat's dissipating into the stone, for the most part.

Adea consults with Walter and formulates a guess. He'd been drawn underground by some mysterious force when he woke up, right? If your daughter ended up here too- and it stands to reason, because you were all right there in the same place when the blast(?) went off- maybe she was pulled down there by the same force! It's possible he just missed her- she could've gotten lost in those underground tunnels somewhere. Best to give it another once-over with an extra pair of eyes.

You head through the ancient pyramid, which... seems to be more extensive, and in better repair than it used to be. When did all this construction happen? Finding a crack in the floor leading down is more difficult than before. Earlier, it hadn't been difficult at all- Walter says some part of him knew which way to go. Did something change?

Neither of you are feeling any supernatural pull downwards anymore. The area below- save for some additional pyramid construction- is almost entirely unchanged. Which... does mean that there is a GIANT SKELETON, still. Several of them. You find a reasonably well-hidden spot to lurk and install the WIFI ACCESS POINT in the REVERT A BANDANA SURGERY SUBTERRANEAN GRAVEYARD. Files include:

Someone took issue with the performance assessment of a robot horse, around, like... thirty years ago? The email is RE: PONY SERVITOR 2076 SCORECARD, and they're not happy.

You've heard of saltwater taffy, but mousewater taffy is considerably harder to manage. Someone's done it, though: ENCODED::: WRANGLED MOUSEWATER TAFFY.

According to the LANCE GLANCE RECRUITER: PI ROTATION IS OUT. He's in charge of recruiting people who've had a close shave with spears, and he prefers to measure lance angles with tau.

An island nation called Haiti, which you've never heard of, is really mad about something- but they don't seem to want to be mad. IRATE HAITI WISHES MELLOW??? Really?

There'd been a lot of development on a faster-than-light utensil, but the product has been getting worse over time. See, a TORTOISE PROVED WARP FORK REGRESSED in this paper.

There's an invitation to the LETTERED CORRECTNESS FOUNDATION, an organization devoted to putting letters in the correct order. Sure would help if these guys weren't hallucinatory!

Continued | 60/70 | 32/32

[imstarkjr]

A meta reason I hate the show being a step stone for Wiccan is because nothing with him is even Greenlit yet. The conclusion to the "trilogy" is a Vision show. And if it does get greenlit it'll still be at least a few years until anything comes out - look at the whole lot of absolutely nothing we've got from the rest of the Young Avengers lineup since their intros the past years and the fact there's still more to debut on screen looking at the titles announced. So we're wasting older female characters for a fat maybe. For something that could very well fizzle out entirely since Marvels movie plans are a hot mess, a load of characters and projects have been shuffled or dropped lately, and the YA actors are aging out of the "young" part. Not even touching how ridiculous Wiccan is as a character lol his power set and 'destiny' would noooot in a million years fly for a female character, people couldn't even handle Captain Marvel and Wanda only gets to use her full power set as a villain.

These are some excellent points and I'll be honest I hadn't thought about it that way. Yeah there's always uncertainty with future marvel projects (look at blade for example) and you never know what the future of these characters look like.

I loved that you pointed out how the female characters aren't liked or are portrayed as villains when they use their full powers (Another example i would like to add would be Jean Grey in the og x-men trilogy). The men see it as an attack on their masculinity, start "cancelling" these characters calling them "woke", and start a smear campaign against them. It has become a huge problem and the studios seem to play right into it instead of standing up for these characters, especially the actors that play them, and minorities in general.