#don’t think I’ll get around to writing it so figured I’d share as is

[the-commonplace-book]

The Tales of Arcadia Ending Fixit Fic I’ll Never Write

I know it's a bit unorthodox, but this has been sitting in my drafts folder for almost two years. I'm never going to write it, but want to share it anyway. So here's a full length fic outline (in my messy outline style) I wrote after Rise of the Titans that functions as a fix-it for the ending. It's canon compliant, just following the natural consequences of what happened and carving a path forward that ends up with a good ending for all.

If someone (or multiple someones) want to write something based on it, feel free to use it as a reference for a fic. Or just read it as is! If you feel up to writing one. Just remember to give credit and set it as inspired by this if you do. Thanks! Enjoy!

AO3 Link

(it’s archive locked to avoid AI scraping so you do need to be logged in on Ao3 to view it)

Summary: In the new timeline, Jim's constant meddling and the weight of knowing the future results in things going poorly for Arcadia. He reaches out to the only person who might believe him and who might have the power to help set things right: Douxie. The two team up to restore the timeline (with just a couple small changes in the form of lives to be saved)

(edit: fixed the ao3 link!)

[aceredshirt13]

everybody out here with their vampire Barok AUs. listen. I like vampires as much as the rest of y’all. but having the huge spooky guy with the pale skin and goth clothes and bat friends and endless supply of red wine be a vampire is just too on the nose. too obvious. too passé.

my pitch: vampire AU where Barok is just a regular human guy who is Like That.

Albert is the vampire.

(more excessive details under the cut)

Albert wasn’t a vampire yet when they met in college. In fact, their whole college experience and Barok’s entire traumatic post-college experience is identical to canon. But Albert got bitten while in Germany, and when he comes back to London and sees Barok’s new look he’s like “wow! I guess my old friend has ALSO become a vampire! what a spectacular coincidence!” Unaware that these are just Barok’s vibes now that his brother is dead and he’s lost faith in humanity.

No one’s figured it out because Albert has never had many friends, and his class load as a professor was never high in the first place, so what would be strange about him only teaching night classes all of a sudden? Or only venturing out of his research lab after dark? The man is so exuberant and so thoroughly unintimidating that no one would ever suspect him of such a thing. In fact, Albert looks exactly the same as he does in the game, but if you look closely, you’ll see he’s got little fangs when he smiles. The only thing that clues in Barok is when he’s taking Albert to Dover after the trial - that he seems extraordinarily wary of sunlight, and that he always seems hungry no matter how much food Barok buys for the pair of them, and that when Albert hugs him goodbye, he’s terribly cold to the touch.

So how is Albert taking this transformation? Well, truthfully, he’s fascinated, and adds his own nature to his long list of scientific subjects to study; but he despises having to hurt people to feed himself, and keeps trying to invent viable blood substitutes that always end up being rather poor in the departments of both nutrition and taste - just enough to keep him alive. (Theoretically, he could buy blood from the butcher shop, but much like trying to give a newborn baby the milk of another animal, animal blood isn’t great for vampires - and buying large quantities of animal blood is both a strain on the wallet and tends to draw the suspicion of the butcher.). It’s really just a more dramatic version of how he behaves in canon - how much he puts his work and his studies above his own health and well-being.

Of course, once Albert realizes Barok is just a regular human, he doesn’t want to tell him because of the (admittedly rather warranted) stigma against his kind, especially with Barok being from a powerful family that undoubtedly has ties with the Church of England - and Christianity does not exactly have a great relationship with creatures seen as demonic. But of course, Barok ends up discovering the truth anyway - and though it is obviously rather a shock, the man’s fondness for his old friend is far more important to him than the fact that he now survives upon drinking the blood of the living. Afterwards, whenever they go out, Barok holds his cape over Albert when the sun is bright enough to risk burning him - and though Albert has been a vampire for long enough to avoid garlic in his meals (vampires can eat human food, but it’s all of the enjoyment with none of the nutritional value, so they can’t survive on it), Barok always insists on double-checking for him, just to make sure. (And by virtue of Barok looking and dressing the way he does, when they’re together, any suspicion of Albert’s vampirism is very quickly deflected onto Barok. Quite literally everyone thinks Barok is the vampire. They just think Albert only comes out at night because he’s weird.)

As for, er, my less than platonic leanings toward the relationship between these two… well. If Albert’s trying to survive solely on a combination of animal blood and these bad blood substitutes to avoid hurting people, then I imagine he’s not always doing very well - he might have trouble functioning, or sleeping, or feeling faint/having low energy even when he’s excited about something. Barok, worrywart that he is, is incredibly concerned about him, but also knows he can hardly force Albert to start accosting people on the street for their blood just for his own health. So, Barok offers an alternative; he slowly lowers the collar of his shirt, revealing his neck.

Albert protests at first, naturally being even less willing to hurt his dearest friend than a stranger, but Barok insists it’s all right - and a combination of his friend’s visible concern and his own stomach growling manages to convince him at least to try. Frantically, he assures him that it’ll only hurt for a moment - after all, he says, when applied carefully, vampire venom has a numbing agent more advanced than that of mosquitoes or fleas, with none of the itchy after-effects! - before biting him, very, very gently.

It does hurt, for a moment, but that fades fast, and soon it’s replaced by a rather pleasant feeling - for Albert, that of being able to enjoy something he’d always thought monstrous; for Barok, the intimate physical contact he’d forgotten and missed. After Albert is done, having made sure not to take too much, they end up in each other’s arms, just… lying there, for quite a while, and then spend the next week and a half trying to convince themselves that was a very normal and heterosexual thing to do between a vampire and his human bestie. (And then, of course, they do it all over again.)

For the record, Albert figures out his feelings for Barok first, but tries to push them down - until another vampire he meets points out that, well, he’s already a vampire. A creature viewed as demonic. So what if he loves another man? At best, it doesn’t matter anyway, and at worst, what’ll he be, more damned?

[headkiss]

I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE HOTCH! ❤️ He’s so soft and I can’t ; -;.

For Christmas requests, can I request the team trying to set up Hotch and reader through either mistletoe or Secret Santa? TY!

hiii thank you so much!! i hope u like it <3 merry christmas and happy holidays! 🫶🎄 | 0.6k of fluff

Unbeknownst to you, the team has been trying to get you and Hotch together for ages.

They’ve seen the way you steal glances at him on the jet, when his head is bent and he’s focused on his paperwork, seen the way he steals glances at you, too. They’ve also seen the two of you grow close, a deliberate yet soft squeeze of the shoulder here, a shared smile there.

They also know that neither of you can tell that the other feels exactly the same. so they’ve decided to take things into their own hands.

“Hey,” Emily grabs your attention, your head lifting to look over at her.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you could ask Hotch for that file from the Seattle case for me?” She faux sighs, “I’m too focused on this report to leave it right now.”

“Okay,” you nod, pushing up from your desk. “No problem.”

You don’t suspect anything, partially because you’re just a little bit oblivious sometimes, and partially because you figure she’s just trying to get things done to get home quicker on the holidays, and you don’t blame her.

Christmas at the BAU isn’t the most festive one, except for the small tree that Garcia has insisted should be put up every year. Other than that, it’s business as usual.

Or, it should be.

You walk up the few stairs to get to Hotch’s office, knocking on the open door when you get there. Aaron stands from his desk when he sees you, meeting you by the doorframe.

“Hi,” you say, “sorry, Emily asked if I could-”

It’s then that you notice a piece of mistletoe taped sloppily—Derek’s work, probably—to the top of the door. Aaron follows your gaze upwards and notices it, too.

“Oh,” you look back to his face, “I had no idea that was there, I’ll just-”

Hotch catches your wrist as you turn to leave, gently tugging you into his office and closing the door behind the two of you, giving you privacy from the team that had been hoping their plan would work.

“I didn’t know, either,” he says, his fingers still around your wrist, warm and rough, but his touch is soft. “If they’re making you uncomfortable with this, I can talk to them.”

You shake your head, shuffling on your feet, far too aware of his hand on your skin, of his eyes kind and searching. “No, no it’s not that. It’s just- it’s silly, right? Them thinking that we’d, um, kiss.”

“Is it?” He asks, because he’s wanted to kiss you for a long time, and even though he’s afraid, he thinks it’s time you know that. Time the team gets off his ass about it, too.

“Hotch,” your voice has gone quieter, unsure that he means what you think he does, what you want him to mean.

“Aaron,” he corrects gently.

Your chest rises on your intake of breath, Aaron stepping a bit closer to you, your shoes nearly toe to toe.

“You don’t think it’s silly, Aaron?”

“No, I don’t.” His free hand pushes your hair away from your face, fingers staying on your jawline afterwards. “I’ve liked you for a long time, and they know it.”

“Oh, wow,” you shift so that he’s holding your hand rather than your wrist, fingers tangling easily. You think that maybe it’s the holidays that make you braver, the love in the air, “I like you, too.”

It feels so juvenile to say it that way, especially where Hotch—Aaron—is concerned, but it’s all you can muster with his hands on you and his gaze flicking to your mouth.

“I’d rather not do it here, but I do want to kiss you,” he says. “Any dinner plans today?”

“No. Not as of now, at least.”

“Have dinner with me?”

“Okay,” your answer is easy.

And that night, after dinner, when he does kiss you on your porch, Christmas lights illuminating your faces, you’re thankful for the mistletoe.

[bangchansgirlsblog]

HELLO🤩

i am in a randomly good mood

and i need angst to ruin it

so

i present to you

HYUNJIN X READER- they get into a fight and he raises his hand as if he’s gonna hit her and she flinches and he’s like…. “i can’t deal with your shit rn” and LEAVES *a collective gasp rises from the audience* and she’s all like “well i can’t deal with your shit either” and ALSO LEAVES (like the apartment they share or smth lol) and goes to stay at another members house (but like she’s being reasonable because it was a REALLY bad fight😓) and it ends in him apologizing after realizing he was a total dick teehee🤭

sorry if that’s too much lol keep up the great work!!🩵

Protective services

Warning: Angry Hyunjin, violence (not really), angst/comfort

Pairing: hyunjin x reader

It’s 4 am and it’s so fucking hot omg. Shoot me 😔

**

“Hyunjin,” Y/n softly called for her boyfriend from the kitchen. He was sat in their living room finishing off a song on his laptop so he was quite concentrated but still he made sure to reply.

“Hm?”

“Baby, what do you think we should take to your mums house for dinner tomorrow?” She walked over to their dining room to sit and jot down the shopping list of things she needed for the huge family dinner at his family’s home.

“I don’t know, you figure it out,” he waved her off and quickly looked back at his computer. His eyebrows were furrowed and he had his glasses on.

She let out a frustrated sigh and continued to write down the list desiding she would make some kimchi and fried rice. Perfect.

Satisfied with her list she went to change into some grocery shopping clothes and turned it the lights. “Hyunjin, I’m going grocery shopping,” she informed the older man who was pulling at his hair.

“Yeah, hm? Okay, okay,” he dismissed her again not even listening to what she had to say this cause her blood to boil. Atleast he could offer to come spend time with her but ofcourse work took all his time. It was always work, work, work.

She grabbed her wallet and closed the door behind her before quickly making her way to the convince store. It was a little chilly but nothing she couldn’t handle.

South Korea was safe after all so her being late out at night wasn’t a problem…well she thought.

It was when she was walking back to their apartments when she heard it. Footsteps. Footsteps that were following her and getting closer.

She had grocery bags in her hands that were extremely heavy and the fact that Hyunjin wasn’t there was worrying her a little bit.

She quickly turned and saw no one. Weird. Was she dreaming? She quickly started walking again but this time her footsteps got faster and so did the ones behind her.

“Excuse me miss?” She heard a rough voice calling for her. Her heart was beating at a terrible pace. Her hands were shaking.

She quickly looked behind before seeing who it was. It was a man, a scrubby looking man. He had a dirty smirk on his face and his hands were in his pocket.

“Can I help you?” She quietly said before taking a few steps back.

“Yes actually, I saw you shopping and I thought you were really-“

“Really what?” A voice growled from behind Y/n. She quickly jumped and looked up to see her pissed off boyfriend standing behind her. Towering both her and the man.

His hands automatically wrapped around her and that’s when she realized her surroundings. She was 2 blocks away from her and Hyunjin’s apartment. So this man really was following her.

“Is he your boyfriend?” The man asked in disbelief. His eyes grew wider, “Isn’t he famous?”

“I’d advise you leave before this gets ugly for you. I saw you following her and if I see you next to her ever again. I’ll make sure to break your hands off and beat you with them. Don’t think just because I sing and dance I can’t beat the shit out of you,”

Hyunjin stood infront of Y/n and pushed the man, he didn’t even try to fight Hyunjin but instead started to scurry off while cursing.

“Baby how-“

“Why the fuck are you out here in the night time without me?” He said sternly. His voice getting louder the more he talked.

He harshly grabbed the grocery bags from her hands.

“But I told you I was going grocery shopping Hyunjin plus-“

“You don’t leave the house without me at this time. You forget that you’re everyone’s target. Are you stupid?” He growled as he gently pushed her so they could start making their way to the apartments. He wanted to make sure he still had an eye on her even if he was extremely mad.

“I don’t know why you’re mad at me. I told you I was going to-“ she was hurt by his harsh words. She just wanted to explain herself.

“Then why the fuck were you not picking up my calls? Do you know how worried I got?” He was yelling now. “I told you to text me whenever your out so I know your safe, why don’t you listen Y/n,”

“Hyunjin I don’t know why your making this such a big deal but your scaring me,” she frowned as they made it inside their apartment. He slammed the door shut before throwing the bags of stuff on the dining table.

“Be careful there are eggs!” She yelped before running to check if they’re okay.

“Is that all you care about now?! You could have gotten hurt outside there. Raped! Robbed! Beaten!”

“Hyunjin stop yelling! It’s not a big deal! I always go shopping without you. Maybe your overreacting a little,” she begged for him to stop as she paced back out to the living room where he was now.

“I need to go think-“

“Think about what babe? I’m sorry okay. Just don’t leave. I- I promise I didn’t mean to. I thought you heard me when I told you I was leaving the house!”

“We need to find a way for you to be safe out there Y/n. Just let me think,”

He grabbed his jacket yet again and she chased after him clinging on his hand.

“God dammit Y/n!” He roared and raised his hand before punching the wall. She quickly flintched and fell on the floor thinking it would land on her.

She lets out a tiny squeal before shielding her head with her hands.

Hyunjin’s face quickly softens. His heart was in his throat. He couldn’t believe it. “Shit,” he softly said. His anger now slowly disappearing as guilt and worry filled his body.

“I’m so sorry baby,” he kept mumbling. He dropped his jacket and tried to grab her but she quickly scrambled away.

She was genuinely scared. She knew Hyunjin wouldn’t hit her but with the way he was reacting before she didn’t know what he was capable of at the moment.

“I- why?” She sniffled. Her eyes now streaming with tears and she quickly got off the floor and rushed to the bedroom.

Her sobs filled the room as she quickly dialed the only person she could think of.

“Channie?” She cried into the phone.

“Hm? What is it?” He frantically said as he heard her tit sniffles. “What’s wrong Y/nnie? You okay? Where are you?”

“Channie…Hyunjin he- he got angry and-“

“I’m coming over right now, stay there and stay away from him,” she could hear him shuffling around probably getting dressed. All she could do is cry.

On the other side of the door, Hyunjin was a crying mess. He didn’t expect the fight to turn left. He was going to hit her. He just blacked out for a second and her tiny screams woke him up he then realized what he had done.

“What is it Hyung?” He groaned as he sat by their bedroom door.

“Come over. Chan just called me fuming and I’m worried he’ll kill you if he finds you there,”

“But Binnie- I didn’t mean to I swear,”

“I just said come over. You need to calm down and we can talk about it okay?” He knew Changbin was right.

The comfort of knowing that Chan was on his way over was what made him leave the house not without knocking on their door first.

No answer.

He then slowly opened it to find the love of his life in a little ball. Tiny cries left her small frame but all he could do was walk over and kiss her forehead. She didn’t flinch but she didn’t react even and with that he left their shared apartment to head off to his friend’s house.

**

The frantic knocks on the door was what got her up. She knew it was Chan instantly and she honestly couldn’t wait for his cuddles.

“Where is he?” He marched into the house fuming.

“He- he left,” she said. Chan’s posture melted when he saw the state she was in. He felt so sorry and so bad but he knew apologizing wouldn’t do anything.

“Movie while you tell me what happened?” He pulled her into a hug as she broke down even more.

“Yes please,” she mumbled into his hoodie.

By the time the movie had ended, she was fast asleep by his side. It was a long 2 hours of him trying to calm her down and assuring her that Hyunjin didn’t mean what he did. It was probably a big misunderstanding. It took hours of convincing but he was finally able to get her to sleep and calm down.

When he heard the knock on the door he knew who it was and wasn’t shocked when the devil himself walked through the door.

“I won’t kill you,” was all Chan said before getting up and signaling for him to come hold her instead.

“Thank you Hyung, I owe you one,”

“I know you two are a young couple and it gets hard but you slowly learn how to be patient with her. I hope Binnie and leeknow told you that,”

“Trust me they gave me the longest lecture of my life and on top of that they took away all my pc privileges,” he huffed and slowly played with your hair.

“How is she?” He asked while admiring her face. It was still a little puffy and the guilt started to eat him again.

“Okay, she cried and cried but I finally got her to calm down. Just talk to her and apologize. She loved you at the end of the day,” and with that. They said their goodbyes and Hyunjin carried Y/n to their shared room. He slowly put her in bed before rushing to finish up putting the groceries away and cleaning up.

He made his way back to your room and got into bed to cuddle you but what made him smile was the way you wrapped your arms around him before whispering a tiny “I love you.”

Damn he was such a dickhead.

[ellephlox]

Obstinacy

Summary: You get sick and refuse to let Matt help you because you don’t want him to get sick, too — the question is, how long can you keep him away?

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Warnings: Some gross pneumonia descriptions, light swearing, nothing else!

A/N: So I’ve been away for awhile, and I’m really sorry about that. I’ve been trying to write my own book and I finished the second draft, so taking the time for fan fiction has been on the back burner lately. But of course with the RETURN OF OUR BELOVED KING on She-Hulk, I had to take the time to write something because IM STILL FREAKING OUT GUYS MATT IS BACK AND HES SO AMAZING AND HOT AND ALLSKJF LSDKFJLSKDJFLSDK

You felt the chest pain on your way home from work — the kind that arrived out of nowhere, as though it dropped from the sky into your lungs, and seriously made you wonder how colds were able to work that quickly. 

Of course, maybe it wasn’t a cold. You kept your hopes up as you cooked dinner, testing your chest a few times with a few large intakes of breath, but each time was the same result: a small tickle in the back, like a little voice saying, Hey, I’m here, and you’re going to be miserable for the next couple of days! 

Which really stunk, if you were being honest. It was getting towards mid-October and you were hoping to carve pumpkins with Matt or do some other corny autumn activity that every other normal couple did in the city. Not that you two weren’t normal. But other couples didn’t really have to contend with the whole I’ll-see-you-later-honey-after-I-beat-up-some-bad-guys-tonight, and you figured it must make movie nights a lot more frequent for most people than it did for you and Matt. That was another thing on your list, too — watching a horror movie to get into the Halloween spirit. 

“I’m not into horror movies,” Matt had said when you’d pitched the idea to him. “Audio commentary kind of kills the whole scary aspect.”

“Then you’re watching the wrong movies. I don’t mean movies with gallons of blood and cheap jump scares. I mean psychological horrors, the kinds that make you stay awake at night because they’re that freaky. We’re doing it, Murdock, whether you want to or not.”

Whether you want to or not, however, didn’t include the extenuating circumstances of getting sick.

It took longer than usual to get up the stairs to your apartment. You felt so drained that you wouldn’t have minded showering and then crashing into bed, if you weren’t hungry. The wind rattled at your windows as you cooked a big pot of rice, enough to last the next few days. You’d bought fixings yesterday to make a homemade curry with it, but one look at your pantry and you scrapped those plans in exchange for half a jar of pesto with a dubious expiration date on it. Matt wasn’t supposed to be over until after seven in the evening, thanks to the unforgiving hours of lawyering, but you called him as you stirred the pesto in with the rice. 

“I was wondering when you’d call,” he said. His voice was lighthearted. 

“Hi,” you said, as casually as possible. “How was your day?”

“I officially reduced the pile of paperwork on my desk from ten inches high to eight inches high, so I’d call it a success. You at your place?”

“Yeah. Hey, I wanted to let you know that I think I’m coming down with something, so maybe you should stay at your own place tonight.” Before Matt could ask, you added, “I’m fine. Just one of the colds that’s going around. But I’d feel horrible if you got it.”

“What about the pumpkins?”

“Pumpkins can wait. I haven’t even bought them yet.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed, and your stomach flipped. What a way to boost my self-esteem that he actually likes me. “How about we just don’t share sodas, then?”

You frowned. “Last time this happened, I told you to stay away from me and then you just ended up kissing me. The next day, lo and behold, you started coughing. So, no. Not happening.”

“You kissed me, if I remember correctly.”

“Excuse me? What kind of a lawyer are you? That’s gaslighting, sir.”

He continued, ignoring you. “Maybe I’ll just hear some suspicious noises coming from your apartment tonight. And then I’ll have to investigate, because it’s my civic duty as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. And when I see a beautiful girl, sitting on the couch and pathetically eating rice and pesto alone, I’ll just have to join her. Accidentally, of course.”

“What I’m interpreting from that is that you go cuddle up with any girl that you find eating alone in her apartment.”

“What I’m interpreting is that Matt says he’s doing all these dangerous things at night but really he’s just chilling out while enjoying the lavish praise of being a local superhero,” Foggy said, his voice distant in the background. 

You snorted. “Am I on speakerphone?”

“No,” Foggy answered, sounding far too cheerful for someone working far beyond sunset. “Matt just keeps his phone volume weirdly high for someone who supposedly has super-hearing.”

“I do have super-hearing, Foggy.”

“Then how are you not shattering your eardrums? Between your phone volume and crashing at girls’ apartments to eat rice and pesto, I’m really doubting this whole Daredevil façade,” Foggy said. 

“Anyway,” Matt cut in, “I’ll pop in tonight, just to bring over some food and meds. Do you want anything specific?”

“Matt, really. I don’t want you catching this. And it’s late, you should get home and actually get some sleep for once. I’m fine, it just feels like a cold.” You would have elaborated, but your chest decided to seize at that moment, and you had to trail off quickly before it became apparent in your voice. 

He sort of listened to you that night. He had swung by (through the window? Or with the spare key you’d given him? There was no way to know) and dropped off food, but it was while you were asleep, and it looked as though he’d only gone into the kitchen then left. 

You’d only found the food when you wandered in blearily at three in the morning, sweating and freezing at the same time. There was no point for the thermometer; a fever was obvious and you didn’t particularly care what the number was. The cough was worse, though. It made it hard to fall back asleep — every few seconds you’d feel as though your lungs were spasming, and the back of your throat felt as though it had been bitten by fire ants. 

Sirens rang in the distance. You hoped it wasn’t for something Matt was involved in; not because you didn’t trust him to handle it, but because it was three in the morning and you’d kick his ass if he wasn’t sleeping at this point. 

Then the headache hit you. Maybe you wouldn’t be kicking his ass anytime soon. 

The pressure was enough to make you stumble into the counter as you rummaged for a glass of water. Everything about your arms felt off, as though your muscles had been crushed into powder, and you misjudged your grasp on the glass. It fell, crashing to the floor and skating outwards like a nebula of knives. Automatically you reached for the paper towels, and in your haze you stepped forward. 

Barefooted. 

Glass crunched under your foot and you swore, not at the pain but at your own stupidity. It took another half an hour to bandage up the bottom of your foot and at that point you were too exhausted to finish cleaning up the glass. 

When you woke up next, sun was filtering through your curtains and your mouth was as dry as though you’d swallowed ten cotton swabs. Dazed, you picked up your phone, and squinted at the notifications; one missed call from Matt and a followup text. Quickly you sent him an I’m okay message and then fell back onto your pillow. 

The fever felt worse. Goosebumps ran up and down your legs, but you were simultaneously sweaty under your sheets, so you threw them off to go shower. Only then did you remember the glass you’d stepped on because your foot protested angrily as soon as you placed it onto the carpet. 

Hopping was the only option remaining, and that expended just about every ounce of energy you’d garnered while sleeping, so that you just about collapsed against the bathroom wall, wheezing, by the time you’d made it. And of course that was when your phone rang, so you hopped back to your room, and barely made it in time before it went to voicemail. 

“Hello?” you croaked. 

“That’s all I need to hear. I’m coming over.”

“I... what?”

“Yeah. You sound terrible, Y/N.” Matt’s voice was overly concerned, and you didn’t like it at all; you could practically feel the pity coming off of him. At least, it felt like pity. And that wasn’t what you wanted. 

“Matt, not only will I personally make you rue the day that you step foot in here while I’m sick, but—” You broke off, coughing, and wincing at the same time because you could imagine Matt’s expression on the other end.

“I don’t like talking to you over the phone,” he said in a low voice. “I hate not hearing your heartbeat, hearing your lungs, feeling your temperature. You’re being overruled. I’m coming.”

“Don’t you have to be at the court today?”

“Not until ten.”

Defeated, you flung the phone on the other side of the room. That conversation sucked out everything you had, and you gave up on the idea of taking a shower. The bed looked much more comfortable. It didn’t help that your breaths were getting alarmingly short, and it was difficult to draw in anything more than a quick inhale. Your eyes were closed for about five seconds before they popped back open. 

Matt was coming. Damn it, damn it, damn it. You went to the windows and locked them all, then crossed to the front door. He had a spare key, but you also had a bolt, and you slid it across, feeling somewhat proud of yourself for having made the trek to the entryway. The bar is very, very low at this point. 

You’d run a marathon right now before letting Matt get anywhere near you. That resolve was the only thing penetrating the fog around your head, and you double-checked the windows again. It wasn’t as though he’d be leaping and climbing up to them, anyway; he was coming from the office, and would therefore be in his lawyer suit. With the number of people down on the streets and the broad daylight, Matt would be hard-pressed to make it up to your fire escape without the newspaper headline being BLIND ACROBAT BREAKING AND ENTERING IN HELL’S KITCHEN the next day. 

Sure enough, ten minutes later Matt was outside your door, and his sharp rap on the door did nothing to make you move. You sat at the counter, sipping on some water, and shook your head. “Nope. Not happening.”

“Y/N, I can hear the crackling in your lungs,” he said, his patience more intact than you would have expected. He thinks he’s going to win.

“My lungs aren’t crackling. They’re just... not feeling so hot.” Now overly-conscious of your breathing, you tried to make your breaths smoother and less obviously sick. 

There was a pause on the other side of the door. “You’ve got too fast of a heartbeat. Unlock the bolt or I’ll kick the door down.”

“Yeah, my heart’s racing, because there’s a man threatening to kick my door down,” you said, and feeling inspired, you clicked the on button of the remote next to you. The television flashed to life, showing the weather report, and you turned the volume up. Take that, Matt. “See? No more lung crackling or racing heartbeats.”

The only issue was that now you could hardly hear him. You barely made out his next sentence, it was so faint on the other side of the door. “I can still hear both, you know,” he said, muffled. “You know how many televisions there are in the average block of apartments that I have to filter out every single night?”

“Shit.” You shut the television off. “Listen away, then. It’s not going to change anything because I’m not letting you in.” 

“I wasn’t kidding about kicking the door down.”

"And I’m not kidding about not letting you in. Plus, you’d have some tough questions to answer when my neighbors report you for kicking down my door, Devil Man.”

“Why won’t you accept help when you need it? You really need a doctor.”

“Hypocrite,” you said under your breath, relishing the fact that he could hear you.

“I can hear you.” Just as you’d expected. “And what I do is irrelevant to the fact that you’re currently sitting in your apartment with what’s probably pneumonia.”

“Oh, it’s not pneumonia,” you said dismissively, though you felt awful enough that he was probably right. At least, your lungs seemed to concur with that diagnosis, and as if to verbally agree with him you coughed, wheezing and choking for air.  

“If I didn’t have to be at the court in half an hour, I’d go home and get into the suit just to have an excuse to come through your window right now.” Matt was pissed, that was for sure. There was a dangerous undertone to his voice, softened only by that ever-present concern in what he was saying. 

“I know, Matt.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s a lost cause, alright? Tomorrow I’ll be feeling a lot better and then maybe — maybe — I’ll let you come in. And that’s if we keep all the windows open for fresh air and—”

“Why do I smell your blood?”

You glanced down at your foot. Traitor. It had stopped bleeding ages ago, but you should’ve changed the bandage again one more time before Matt showed up. “I’m... doing acupuncture. On myself.”

“Y/N.”

“Fine. I made a blood oath and pricked my thumb to assure myself that I will never, ever let you catch a sickness from me.”

“In ten seconds this door is coming down unless you tell me. And if you could hear my heartbeat, you’d know I’m not lying.”

“Fine! I just stepped on some glass, okay? But my foot is fine, it’s seen worse days. I mean, you should’ve seen that time that I got a pedicure and the lady told me my heels were the most cracked she’d seen in a long time.” You were rambling, and that wasn’t a good idea, because it made you lose your breath and then you were gasping for air. 

After another five minutes of arguing that ended only when you swore to call the doctor if you got any worse, he left, grumbling that Foggy would kill both of you if he was late for court, and that was the only reason he was giving up — “temporarily”. 

Only when it was too late did you realize that was a mistake, and that you should have let him help.  

It was past two in the afternoon when you woke up from a nap, and every muscle in your body felt as though it were frozen. You were trembling slightly from the cold, but couldn’t muster the energy to even sit up and grab the blanket at the foot of your bed. It was difficult to swallow, and you clutched at your throat, certain that someone must be standing over you and clasping their hands around your neck, but there was no one there. 

“Matt,” you whispered, expecting him to be there, or to hear you, but there was no one. Taking slow breaths, you tried to calm down on your own. One, two, three. One, two, three. All you could manage were short, raspy breaths that hardly got enough air, and your head pounded. Blindly you reached out for your glass of water, and nearly dropped it again, your hands were shaking so much. The feeling of your lips against the rim was like pressing a dried sponge to the edge of a bowl and the water tasted sour in your mouth. 

And then you tried swallowing. It was as though someone had blocked up your throat, because you couldn’t swallow, and you gasped, heart racing as panic flooded through you; for a moment you couldn’t breathe and then you finally coughed up the water, chest heaving from the sharpness of each cough. You grabbed a tissue, hacking into it for at least another thirty seconds, and finally a glob of mucus came up and your airway cleared up just enough that you could breathe a bit more. 

You almost tossed the tissue to the floor without looking at it, but a flash of red caught your eye. 

Blood. In the mucus. 

That was the tipping point for you. Didn’t people die shortly after coughing up blood in the movies? That was how it went. A character coughs, looks into their hand, and then resignedly tucks it away without the other characters seeing. It was like the knoll of death, ringing in your ears. 

You hardly knew what you were doing as you dialed Matt’s number, not even thinking about what you were tapping into your phone but allowing muscle memory to guide you. 

“Hello?” He picked up almost immediately. 

“Matt—” You started to speak his name, but halted; it was too painful. Dropping your voice to a whisper, you started over. “Matt, I think I need you here.”

“What? What is it?” 

“I’m—” You glanced down at the tissue. Literally dying here? That was a surefire way to make Matt have a heart attack. “I’m not doing so well. I might take you up on your offer to help.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be over in five minutes. Did you call the doctor already?”

“No.” The thought of calling the doctor was exhausting on its own. 

Matt seemed to notice that. “I’ll call,” he assured you. “Can you breathe alright?”

“Not really.” Tears were spiking in your eyes and you brushed them away. “I just coughed and... there was some blood in it.” You wheezed for breath, the drawing in of air rattling everything inside of you and getting caught at the top of your throat.

“I’m taking you to a hospital.”

“But—”

“No, sweetheart. You need a real doctor. I’ll be over in a minute.”

Somehow you must have fallen asleep again, because Matt was lifting you from the bed and you wrapped your arms around him. “Can’t breathe,” you whispered, gasping for breath. 

“I know. I can hear your lungs,” Matt said, voice strained. “I’ve got a cab waiting on the street. Can you walk or do you need me to carry you?”

“I... I can walk.” You slung an arm around him and made your way slowly out of the room, limping with every step on your bandaged foot. Matt, to his credit, allowed you to do what you could. His tie was loosened and his suit jacket was gone, but he still wore a button-down, tucked into his pants. 

“Bet you won your case, then,” you whispered, hardly even aware of what was coming out of your mouth. “No one can... say no to this.”

“This?”

“Hm. This.” You meant to nod up and down at Matt, but it came across as more of a head shake. “You.”

And then your assertion that you could walk proved difficult to fulfill, so you redirected your efforts to not face-planting in your living room, despite the strong, steady hands Matt kept on you the entire time. Once you reached your stairs he took over for the most part; your feet were hardly touching the ground with the amount of support he was giving. 

That was where your memory cut out. You must have passed out, because the next time you opened your eyes, it was in the hospital bed, and Matt was reading next to you, his long gaze fixed on the wall in front of him as his fingers danced over the text. 

“Hi,” you whispered lamely. Everything about you was groggy and it was hard enough just to focus on him. 

Him. Only he could look handsome in a hospital. At some point he’d exchanged the suit for a tee shirt and sweats, and his hair stuck out at every angle possible. You wondered vaguely if he’d come from Fogwell’s. 

He set the book down, relief evident on his face. “Hey, sweetie. How are you doing?”

You ignored his question. “How do you always manage to look good?”

He nudged you. “I should be the one asking you that.”

“That’s... the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. Even if you weren’t blind, it’d be a lie.” You closed your eyes, then opened them again. The ceiling was too white. “What happened?”

"Aspiration pneumonia.”

“Hm?”

“You have aspiration pneumonia,” he said. “Which just happens to be a type of pneumonia that’s not contagious.”

You meditated on this. “So?”

“So you could’ve let me into your apartment, that whole time,” he said, looking distinctly indignant, and it was enough to make you laugh. The laugh was short-lived, because it quickly transformed into a wracking cough that made your entire chest throb, but Matt was on his feet in an instant, holding your hand.

Only when the coughing stopped did you remember the bolt on your door. “Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“How’d you get in?”

“Broke down the door, like I promised.”

“Are... are you serious? What about the neighbors?”

He laughed. “You know, breaking down a door isn’t incriminating evidence that I’m Daredevil. I told them you were having an emergency, and when they saw you, they believed me.”

“They saw me?” You didn’t remember an audience when Matt was helping you out of the apartment.

“Well, you were taking your sweet time on the stairs, and coughing loudly enough for anyone in a mile radius to hear you, so yeah, they wanted to see what was happening.”

You buried your face in your hands. “That’s just great. And now, what, is my apartment wide open for anyone to go in?”

“No, I called in a favor with Foggy, and he’s hanging out there until someone can come in and fix it.”

“Even better. Now I’m indebted to Foggy.”

Matt smiled coyly. “Oh, and I should mention—”

“Oh, no. What?”

“—that there’s something else you’ll love about all of this.”

“Stop smiling like that. Why are you smiling like that?”

“Aspiration pneumonia is commonly associated with the institutionalized elderly. In other words, it’s a nursing home problem.”

“A nursing home problem?”

“A nursing home problem,” he confirmed. “I was thinking that maybe for your next birthday I could get you fitted for dentures.”

“Hilarious. Really, so funny. You really should have been a comedian. I swear to you that the next time you get sick, I’m going to make fun of you and you’ll never hear the end of it. Got it?”

He grinned and squeezed your hand. “Murdocks don’t get sick.”

“That is the second biggest lie I’ve ever heard. I seem to recall that time you projectile-vomited off of the Ferris wheel.”

“Because I was motion-sick, not sick-sick.”

Your eyelids were already getting heavy just from the five-minute conversation. You beckoned him closer and leaned onto his shoulder, pressing yourself into his warmth. He smelled like fresh deodorant and coffee. “Pumpkin carving as soon as I can leave?”

“Definitely,” he said, placing your fingers onto the pulse that drummed under his wrist. “And this time, I’m not lying.”

[sixosix]

Pls write basketball player girlfail childe asking reader to show up to his competition and he yells out “this ones for you”’only to miss like the pathetic loser he is and get benched for the rest of the gamethx

warnings wc 1.2k feminine russian petname (printsessa) used once (1), THIS IS A BIT OF A MESS IM SORRY ELLIE, second-hand embarrassment btw…

“I said please...”

Laughing, you push his face away with your palm, Childe’s cheek squished against it. “What are you, five? Please won’t get you anywhere.” The way he said it, dragged out and whiny, was entertaining, though.

He draws you closer by encircling your waist with his arm. “School year’s ending, won’t you at least give me this one last dance?”

“It would’ve been sweet if you were asking me out for prom instead of your basketball competition.”

“But our situation makes it even more romantic,” Childe argues, well, childishly. He pouts and brings his face within inches of yours, drowning your gaze in a mesmerizing shade of hauntingly beautiful blue.

“We don’t have a situation.”

“Yes we do, printsessa. There’s no one here to hide your undying love for me. Come to my game to make it up to me?”

He looks stupid in all his long-limbed glory, as he bends down and gazes up at you, his lower lip protruding. But you've always had a weakness for his endearing puppy-dog eyes. They have a way of working their magic, and he's well aware of it.

“We’ll see what happens.”

Childe lights up, pulling away just to give you kisses all over the back of your palm. “Yes, yes. You won't regret a thing, I promise.” You haven’t even said a concrete yes, though he’d probably take anything that isn’t outright ‘no’.

You suppose this means you have a basketball game to attend tomorrow.

“Wear my jersey?”

“You’re pushing it.”

“For real? You’re not joking around? No, wait, don’t tell me—you wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

Xiao’s jaw ticks, far from amused, as the boy in front of him grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him back and forth like a snowglobe. Childe would find his piercing glare terrifying if he weren’t a whole head shorter than him. “Do I look like I have time to entertain and joke around with you, Tartaglia? See for yourself. Second row, black jacket.”

Childe’s grin splits across his face like he’s never had to express any other emotion.

Xiao stares at him warily, as one would to a ticking time bomb. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. I don’t like that look on your face.”

Childe’s expression turns serious, his dull eyes drilling daggers to the ground. “We will win. I’ll make sure of it, buddy. Wanna know why? I have a plan, and I’ll share it with the team so I can win this competition and Y/N falls in love with me and everything falls into pl— Hey, why are you leaving?”

“Kunikuzushi.” You don’t bother hiding the look of surprise on your face as you spot him on the second row of the courtside seats. “I thought you were one of the players.”

Scaramouche’s face crinkles in disgust at even the implications that came along with it. “I’d rather not participate in anything involving Childe.”

A laugh bubbles out of you as you settle in on the seat on his left. “And here I thought he said you were friends.”

“He’s presumptuous like that,” Scaramouche sniffs, tipping his chin high. 

“And secretive. I didn’t know he played basketball…”

“Are you joking?” At your bewildered expression, Scaramouche’s brow arches in disbelief. “You don’t know. Childe only started playing because you said you might have a crush on one of the varsity players.”

“What? I just I might. And what does that— Oh, no.”

“Yes. You idiot.”

“I didn’t think his crush was this serious,” you murmur, sinking further into your seat. It might be butterflies, it might be mortification.

The whistle blows; the players settle in position. Your eyes never stray from Childe’s figure, even for a second. (He does look good in his basketball jersey.)

“Crush? Don’t make me laugh. You pair act like you’re on your honeymoon every time I see you.”

Wisely deciding to change the subject because arguing with Scaramouche is subjecting yourself to eventual loss, you wonder aloud, “How’d they even allow him to play? He doesn’t know how to aim for shit.”

Scaramouche smirks. “Probably because of his connections. He’s an asshole like that.”

“Yeah.” That makes sense. You both lapse into silence as the game proceeds.

Childe is doing better than you expected. Even Scaramouche looks vaguely impressed.

“I guess he could play after all,” you comment, whistling lowly as Childe skillfully snatches the ball and maneuvers across the field like he’s a stream of water. You’re briefly entranced by the way he grins and a bead of sweat rolls down from his chin.

The ball is in his hands. You shuffle to the edge of your seat.

Scaramouche leans to rest his elbows on his knees. “What’s he doing?” You can’t tell if he’s invested because he’s rooting for him or if he’s waiting for something bad to happen, because he hates Childe like that.

Childe comes to a stop at a specific distance, cradling the ball against his chest. His teammates do the same, creating enough confusion among the opposing players to provide him with an opportunity to attempt what would generally be considered a violation.

Childe’s eyes easily find yours. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s pinned your location down beforehand or if it’s the magnetic force that’s pulling you to him no matter where you try to look. He grins, all boyish charm that makes everyone oblivious that they’re dealing with a devil in the body of a ginger swoon.

“This one’s for you, babe!” he exclaims, pointing at you with a wild grin, prompting the audience to glance at you in bewilderment. Stupidly, your heart flutters at the fact that he didn’t forget you were watching.

He jumps, his body and arms arching in a graceful form. You swear there’s a spotlight framing his entire body at the moment. Childe flicks his wrist; the ball flies off of his grasp.

And the ball also misses entirely.

A stunned silence washes over the court, broken only by Scaramouche later bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Oh, no,” you say, hiding your face in your palms. Xiao, Childe’s teammate, is seen exiting the field.

“Oh my—oh my fuc—king go—od,” Scaramouche wheezes in between breaths, his knees curled up to his chest.

“It’s really not that funny,” you weakly defend, mostly because your embarrassment is overpowering the part of you wanting to join Scaramouche.

However, your words only prompt Scaramouche into laughing harder, tears in his eyes and his breaths coming in short. You’ve never seen him laugh this hard before.

Below, Childe doesn’t even look humiliated. He stares at the ball rolling away with a frown, as if it’s at fault for his god-awful aim.

One of the players—his enemy—pats him on the back. “Hey, man, you can try again if you want to…”

Childe huffs, turning away. “I want a fair one. It’s not worth anything if you just give it to me.” What a miracle he still has his pride after that.

Childe gets benched, pouting in the sidelines. They did win, but it’s not because of Childe, like he told Xiao would happen—not that Xiao was there to see it. Not even a kicked puppy could compare to how pathetic he’s looking. A wet, crumpled paper might be more accurate.

“Don’t tell me you’re into dedicated failure? You into that?”

You pat Scaramouche’s back twice in response. “He’s still cute, unfortunately.” There might just be something wrong with you. “I’m going to go to him.”

“Weirdo,” Scaramouche shoots back, watching as you leave. “No wonder why you and Childe are perfect for each other.”

[diazsdimples]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you to everyone who tagged me for Sunday and Tuesday, I've been really struggling with writing lately and it's been extremely disheartening but this morning I had A Singular Bean for Frostpunk AU and milked it for all it's worth! This snippet comes immediately after the Buck and Eddie POVs of being found in the cold. Please enjoy!

He suddenly feels responsible for their wellbeing, and maybe that’s why he refuses to leave the kid’s – Christopher’s – side until the rest of the team arrives, Eli carrying the heavy med kit on his back. “I’ll get the man, Eli check the kid,” Bobby instructs, sinking to his knees beside Buck. “What’s the story with them, Buck?” “I got here just a couple minutes before the guy passed out. Didn’t say his name but his kid is called Christopher. He looked super weak, a-and they’re both freezing.” Bobby and Eli share a look over Buck’s shoulder and Eli gets to work on Christopher, checking his vital signs and most importantly, his temperature. Bobby repeats the same process on the father, while Tommy and Sal rifle through the backpack on the sled, checking for any useful information on where they’d come from. “Found the guy’s papers, Cap,” says Sal, walking towards Bobby with a flimsy leaflet in his hand. “Say’s the guy’s called Edmundo Diaz, from Sector 126. He’s ex-military but his most recent job was in a sawmill, he might be useful.” “We don’t save people based on use, Sal,” Bobby responds, his eyes not leaving Edmundo as he speaks. “He’s damn cold, temp sitting around 90 and his heart rate and respiratory rate are a little more elevated than I’d like. Eli, how’s the kid?” “Looking fairly rough, Bobby, we’re going to have to hustle to get them back in time. His temp is at 91 so he’ll be looking at pretty severe hypothermia if we don’t warm him up soon.” Bobby sucks air through his teeth, clearly thinking hard. “We’re a good 16 hours out from the city, 17 or 18 with these two and their gear. Think they’ve got it in them to make it that long?” Eli makes a face. “I really don’t know, Cap. The kid, maybe, but the guy’s temp is a little too low for my liking. Maybe if we warmed them up a little, they’d have a better chance. Did Maddie say anything about being able get the snowmobile team out here?” Buck perks up at the mention of the snowmobiles. The team was sent out a day before Buck’s team was, off on a search for supplies a few hundred miles away but were always on call in case a rescue was needed. Getting them to help would cut their travel time almost in half, giving Christopher and Edmundo the precious hours needed to save their lives. “I- I could ride one back with the kid, if they didn’t want to spare a man, Bobby?” he asks hopefully. Sal snorts from his position by the sled. Buck’s love for the snowmobiles is no secret and Bobby’s spent many a mission patiently explaining why it wouldn’t be safe or necessary and otherwise spoiling Buck’s fun. However, this situation calls for haste and Buck is nothing if not an – ah – efficient driver. Bobby looks thoughtful, before standing up and brushing the snow off his pants. “I’ll give dispatch a call and see if she can reroute them to us,” he says, continuing quickly as he watches Buck light up, “but I will be driving. You need to look after the kid, okay?” Buck deflates a little, but something in him stirs as he turns to look at the little figure in the snow next to him. He’s so young, probably no older than 7, and Buck’s heart breaks for him. He’s too young to be experiencing the hardships of the Winter, too innocent to have to watch his father weaken as they journey to a safer home. It’s like a small fire has been kindled in the pit of Buck’s belly as he shuffles closer to the boy and snakes an arm under his neck and the other under his legs, pulling his tiny frame up so he’s in Buck’s lap. Buck is going to protect this boy with his life.

No pressure tagging @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @tizniz @watchyourbuck @wikiangela @daffi-990 @thewolvesof1998 @pirrusstuff @cal-daisies-and-briars @kitteneddiediaz @spotsandsocks @jesuisici33 @rainbow-nerdss @wildlife4life @puppyboybuckley @smilingbuckley @disasterbuckdiaz @bucksbackwardcap @fortheloveofbuddie @evanbegins @steadfastsaturnsrings @buckbuckgoose @exhuastedpigeon @housewifebuck @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @elvensorceress @babytrapperdiaz @ci5mates @hermscat (let me know if you want to be added or removed from this)

[katesmemes]

feel free to change any pronouns, etc.

“C’mon now, [Name], lets keep moving.”

“It’s always just been me and [Name].”

“I need you to tell me everything that happened.”

“That’s a lot of money to owe…”

“Just what did you get yourself involved in?”

“Are you in town for a business trip, maybe?”

“Well, when your own life is that dull, you need to get your excitement somewhere…”

“Now, don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

“This is exactly the kind of behavior [Name] warned me about.”

“She’s just the worst to every girl she perceives as a threat.”

“So… You’re saying I’m not a threat?”

“I know there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“You don’t seem to care whether I’m happy.”

“Curiosity killed the cat…”

“I’m not used to having people around me while I work.”

“Hey, come on, don’t leave me hanging!”

“I’m sorry to add to your plate, but…I really need your help.”

“Are you telling me I should snoop around?”

“Ah, c’mon, a little joke’s never killed anyone.”

“Although it may seem like it, I’m not actually clairvoyant.”

“I’d forget my own head if I didn’t write everything down.”

“The way they look at each other, you can tell it’s the real deal.”

“Maybe it’s because my empathy only goes so far, but… I admire that you’re able to feel for just about anyone.”

“I don’t think I get along with everyone, but some people are worth getting friendlier with…like you.”

“The way you turned that compliment right back around at me, was…masterful.”

“I bet you could make anything look good.”

“Just what could’ve made you empty out your entire bank account?”

“I’ve never seen two people more suited for each other.”

“I need to know I can count on you.”

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“I think my heart stopped beating there for a moment.”

“If you weren’t so pretty, you’d have been out of a job a long time ago.”

“What the hell are you going on about?”

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, [Name].”

“I hope I didn’t get you into too much trouble earlier…”

“I guess the heart wants what the heart wants…”

“Adults can be so…confusing.”

“I can’t believe it all ends here.”

“Thank you for not giving up.”

“I would never give up on you.”

“Come on, you know I wouldn’t let you down.”

“I’m not sure I understand what the plan is here.”

“I enjoy the occasional, artistic endeavor.”

“I feel like I’m in one of those novels I spend my days reading.”

“I just love trying new things.”

“I could not have done this without you.”

“I’m glad I was able to be of some help.”

“Thank you for everything.”

“Hey, just because I read books doesn’t mean I know everything.”

“That’s a lot sweeter than I expected.”

“I do like a happy ending.”

“We could leave together if you’d like.”

“Even the most put-together person could be an absolute mess on the other side of the door.”

“I like to think that, with me, what you see is what you get.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to bring the lights back on.”

“Hey, you look a bit pale…”

“Is everything okay?”

“you’re not scared of the dark, are you?”

“Maybe you need to sit down, huh?”

“You look like you’re about to faint.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“Maybe don’t mention that to the police.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before.”

“I’m…ashamed of the truth.”

“Maybe now you can understand why I care so much about you…”

“I’d really like for us to be more than just friends, [Name]...”

“Promise me you’ll be careful with the information you share.”

“Sorry, I was…distracted.”

“I really need you to focus right now.”

“I don’t want to be here all night, and I’m sure you don’t either.”

“I suggest you tell me everything you know.”

“We all struggle sometimes.”

“There was no point in staying if you were leaving.”

“I’m flattered, but that really wasn’t necessary.”

“You’re the most charming person I know!”

“I’m really glad I have you in my life.”

“Sorry, my mind wanders sometimes.”

“Should I be jealous?”

“I just want them to be happy…”

“What the hell’s going on?”

“You can’t do this!”

[runnning-outof-time]

3 . 5 K Follower Celebration

~ The Garrison is open and the drinks are flowing! ~

Come and help me celebrate reaching 3.5k followers!

Thank you for all of the love and support you’ve shown me! I know I say it every time, but I truly cannot believe that my silly little blog has grown this big. Im so, so thankful for every single one of you! 🧡

So in honor of hitting 3.5k, I figured I’d think up some 3 word sentences and some 5 word sentences and then challenge myself to write some blurbs based around them. … That’s where y’all come in — I need you to send me some requests using the prompts I have listed below the cut!!

If you’re interested please make sure you include:

The character you’d like me to write it with — I only write for Tommy, John and Arthur

The sentence you’d like me to incorporate

If you’d like for it to take a certain tone (i.e fluff, angst, etc) — this is optional; I’ll happily surprise you!

Please only use 1 prompt per ask/request!! You can send in as many as you’d like though (the more, the merrier)!!

Anyone can join in and help me celebrate — anons are most certainly welcome!! Spread the word!!

Requests for these blurbs are CLOSED — you can find the masterlist for the celebration HERE!

My lovely fellow writers - if you’re looking for a challenge, you’re more than welcome to choose a prompt of your own and work you’re magic on it…I’d love to see what you create! 🧡

I can’t wait to write and share some blurbs with y’all!!

**please make sure to include the sentence you choose in your ask!! — I’ve numbered them in case you can’t pick and want to use a number generator to decide (or if you feel like doing that anyway 👀👀)

Three Word Sentence Prompts:

“Come to bed.”

“Let it go.”

“Stay right there.”

“Talk to me.”

“Please stop talking.”

“Close the door.”

“I love you.”

“What the fuck?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Look at me.”

“Look at you.”

“Why right now?”

“Go to sleep.”

“I missed you.”

“I need you.”

“Happy or sad?” (I couldn’t resist it)

“Figure it out.”

“Kiss me, please.”

“How about no?”

“Yes or no?”

“Let me in.”

“I’m so happy.”

“You’re bleeding, (name).”

“Forget about it.”

“Honey, please stop.”

“Listen to me.”

“Listen to yourself.”

“How dare you.”

“Don’t say anything.”

“Then prove it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Say it again.”

“Are you jealous?”

“You look funny.”

Five Word Sentence Prompts:

“I don’t know how to.”

“You’re not listening to me.”

“Why did you say that?”

“Can you repeat that again?”

“Do you actually love me?”

“Say what you want to.”

“How did you do that?”

“Are you happy right now?”

“Forget I ever said that.”

“I just needed some quiet.”

“Isn’t it beautiful out here?”

“You look beautiful like that.”

“Why’re you looking at me?”

“Did you even miss me?”

“This time I mean it.”

“Please stay with me tonight.”

“You’re more fun to miss.”

“I can’t think of anything.”

“I like how that sounds.”

“Wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Who did this to you?”

“Do you know you’re bleeding?”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Will you just kiss me?”

“I guess I should go.”

“I’ll break before I bend.”

“I would wait for you.”

“I believe this is yours.”

“I know you want to.”

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Where do we go now?”

“Look at me right now.”

“Why are we here anyway?”

“I didn’t get your name.”

divider credit

[pinknightsinmymind]

【 hell week - abby anderson 】

abby anderson x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

based off request prompt: What do you think about them being in college and braving through finals together? Like, they've been working for hours and they collectively decide to encourage each other through it?

content: modern!au, college!au, established relationship, helping each other manage stress through finals, you and abby being caring gf's, LOTS of affection between you two, one sexual joke, abby being happy and sharing her sense of humor, lots and lots and lots of fluff, cuddling, use of pet names (babe, baby, love, etc.)

a/n: wowowow this was so cute to write ik its a little past finals week as the next semester has either begun or will be starting soon for ppl, but i hope reading about going through finals week and being domestic with abby is still heartwarming. i hope it can also be a comfort to be read again at a later time when its finals week again and you're stressed and need a moment to relax :) more than anything taking care of yourself during finals is the most important which is something i've barely learned and figured out how to do. anyways, now that i'm done lecturing, pls enjoy!!!!

“I think I’m going to drop out,” Abby announced. You snorted.

“Like hell you’d drop out,” you said back to her. You knew Abby was just being dramatic and complaining. Despite how draining the work was, you knew she loved her major and being in pre-med.

“No, I think I’m actually gonna do it this time. I’ll just scam people online for money. This medical shit just isn’t it. In fact, I think I’m gonna become the country’s most wanted con-woman.”

“What you need is a break from studying, not to drop out,” you advised. You leaned forward from across the table and closed Abby’s textbook and notes. She sighed and rubbed her temples. “You’ve been studying hard enough. Don’t push yourself.”

“You’re right.” She shuffled some of her note cards in her hands absentmindedly. “Neither of us have taken a break in a while. My brain hurts.”

“Tell me about it,” you grumbled. “Wanna get something to eat?”

“You read my mind. I think the walk would be good for me.”

“Plus, we’ve done enough studying for a while. We can study more later tonight.”

“You’re a genius, [Y/N],” she grinned. “That’s why I keep you around.” You rolled your eyes as you gathered your things together and shoved them in your backpack. Abby followed suit as the two of you prepared to leave the library. You checked your phone and saw it was around three o’clock, and you had both been there since before noon. Yeah, you both definitely needed the break.

“Tonight,” you started as you walked by Abby’s side, “we’ll study some more. I say we take a few hours to ourselves.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asked flirtily. You hit her arm.

“Not like that! I meant we should decompress for a while. Eat, watch some TV, that kind of thing.”

“Physical activities are good for decompressing,” she countered.

“Oh, I’m sure they are to you. Look at you. You go to the gym, like, six times a week,” you joked.

“Five,” she corrected.

“See!” you exclaimed. The two of you finally exited the library, the sun’s warmth and beams hitting you. The warmth was delicious, and much better than the freezing Arctic inside the library.

“I thought you liked my physique. Some say it’s Grecian.”

The laugh spilled from your lips before you could even stop yourself. “Oh, my God. You did not just say that.”

“I think I’d be a Spartan,” she mused.

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m one hundred percent serious. Sparta’s no joking matter.”

“You are so—I don’t even know what to say.”

“Charming? Hilarious? I’ve heard it all before,” she said cockily. Before you could even respond you felt her hand slither close to yours and lace your fingers together. “What do you want to eat?”

“I don’t know. What’s closest?”

“That sandwich place you like is nearby. We just gotta walk past the art building and it’s right there.”

“Deal!” you agreed. Walking through campus was always enjoyable with Abby by your side. She made the weather less dull, the day less mundane. It was these little moments with her that you enjoyed the most. Sure, it’s boring everyday life, but she made it special. Abby swung your interlocked hands through the air as she matched your stride. Yes, you may have been in the middle of exams, but at least you had Abby by your side while you endured it. You enjoyed the small journey together, taking the time to admire the beautiful landscapes before you. The university had many trees planted around campus whose lush, green branches provided bountiful amounts of shade. There were squirrels roaming around searching for food, while only a few other students wandered around. For some finals week had barely begun, while others were going through the dregs of it.

Nearly everyone had coffee in their hands while they were dressed lazily—and none of them you could blame. Finals week tired you out beyond compare, and you still had a paper to complete tonight. Abby had two more exams to prepare for, while you only had one more in a few days. You were both just trying your best to make it through the week, both vowing to help each other whenever necessary. That included monitoring each other’s sleeping schedules, making sure you both stayed on task, and making sure above all you were both taking care of your health. That was the most important one seeing as the two of you had a streak for getting so involved in your studies you often neglected your well-being. It was a slippery slope, but when you had each other to look after one another, it made things somewhat easier.

“Hey,” you said to Abby suddenly. She glanced at you, waiting for you to finish speaking. “I’ll pay for lunch today.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Yeah. My treat.” You squeezed her hand in yours, watching as a smile spread across Abby’s face. She looked radiant whenever she smiled.

“Trying to wine and dine me?” she teased.

“You know it.”

Lunch with Abby was just as calming and therapeutic as you thought it would be. Not only did it calm your nerves, but it gave both of your brains just the break they needed. You both took your time to eat, looking to enjoy each others’ presence and the food instead of rushing. After eating, the two of you decided to head back to your shared apartment rather than go to the library again.

“Do we have to start studying right away now that we’re home?” you asked her. Abby glanced at her watch. It was barely five, but she didn’t want you to stress yourself out more. In fact, she felt you deserved to rest more, instead.

“’Course not, babe,” she answered. “You’ve already been working hard enough. Let’s just watch something together.” Abby pulled together some blankets and set up her laptop for the two of you on your bed. Settling herself against the headboard with the blanket wrapped around her, she opened up her arms for you to join her. You quickly joined her, Abby wrapping the blanket around you as well. She pulled you close to her body, arms around you tightly, as you began to watch the show you binge watched together. Abby placed quick kisses against your cheek and forehead here and there, but still made sure to concentrate on the show before her. Despite this, you still managed to distract her and pull her into more heated kisses every now and then.

After a few episodes you asked Abby if she was ready to finish studying, and when she said yes the marathon ended. You sat at the small dinner table together, Abby turning through the pages of her textbook and making countless flashcards. You, however, pulled out your laptop and began working on your paper. It was due tomorrow at noon, so you wanted to be sure you got it done by tonight, even if it meant staying up extra late. You’d make that sacrifice if you had to. You wrote page after page, inserting your quotes, making arguments, for what felt like forever. However, you were still nowhere close to done. It was already past 10 P.M., and you had at least three to four pages left to do. After about twenty more minutes, Abby wrapped up her studying and announced she would take a shower.

“I’ll be back, love,” she said, giving you a small kiss before heading to the bathroom. You sighed as you heard the water start running. You knew it was going to be a while before you finished, but you’d have to bear it for the time being. You worked in a frenzy as the pressure of your final grade hung over your head. You just wanted to finish this assignment so the semester could finally be over. Abby finally returned from her shower after some time, rubbing the strands of her hair in her towel to dry it off.

“How’s the paper coming?” she asked. You shook your head.

“It’s coming,” you groaned.

“It’s getting pretty late. Are you almost done?”

“Hardly,” you answered. Abby came up behind you and began massaging your shoulders. It helped to calm you somewhat, her hands managing to rub the spots that ached the most.

“Want me to stay up with you?” she asked softly.

“I’d like that,” you said. Abby finished massaging your shoulders and pulled out the seat next to you.

“I’ll stay here the whole time with you, baby, but let’s make a deal.”

“What is it?” you asked. You looked away from your screen and into your girlfriend’s eyes as she spoke.

“Before I tell you, what time is this paper due?”

“Tomorrow at noon,” you answered.

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll let you write a little bit more, but after midnight you’re gonna take a shower and go to sleep.”

“But I need to finish this,” you argued.

“Yeah, but you can’t tire yourself out, babe. You’re not pulling an all-nighter on my watch. We’ll wake up early together tomorrow and you can finish it, okay? So just do what you can tonight.”

“Fine,” you grumbled.

“So, how much you got left?” she asked.

“About two to three pages,” you answered.

“I think you should write until you only have one page left. How does that sound?”

“Doable,” you responded. You turned back to your laptop and continued where you left off. Abby leaned over and rested her head on your shoulder as you wrote. Usually you didn’t like having people watch you write, but with Abby it was different. You adored her and cherished her company. While she leaned on you, one of her hands rubbed circles onto your back absentmindedly.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking you to finish your paper in the morning,” she spoke up suddenly. “I just don’t want you to burn yourself out or stay up too late. I know how we both get when it’s finals, so I just don’t want either of us to make the same mistakes again, you know?”

“It’s okay, Abs. I don’t mind,” you reassured her. “To be honest, I kind of like it. It makes me feel cared for.”

“You’re very cared for,” she said, pecking your cheek. Finally, after about twenty more minutes of writing, you finally reached a stoppining point that wouldn’t be too hard to continue the following morning.

“Done!” you exclaimed. Abby smiled at you and shut your laptop for you.

“Good. Now do what you need to do. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“You better not fall asleep,” you warned. You pecked her lips as you rose from the table to go take your shower. The warm water was calming as it soothed your joints and cleansed your body. Once you finished your shower and nightly routine, you found Abby waiting in bed for you. She had the blanket covering her legs as she read one of her books quietly. You crawled into bed carefully beside her and curled up into her side.

“Ready for bed?” Abby asked. She closed her book and placed it on her nightstand.

“Yeah,” you answered. Without another word Abby turned her lamp off and pulled you into her.

“Good night,” she whispered into your neck.

“Good night,” you said back to her. It wasn’t long before the two of you dozed off.

+ + +

“Hey,” she whispered. “Wake up, sleepyhead.” You groaned as you wiped your eyes and they adjusted to the bright lights. She must have had the kitchen lights on and the blinds open like always since she was the morning person in the relationship. You could smell fresh coffee and feel Abby’s arms around your body. Her hand stroked your cheek as she whispered to you softly. “Come on. I’ve got your morning coffee ready. Just how you like.”

“For real?” you asked. Abby laughed at your response.

“Yes, now go wash up.” You groggily dragged yourself out of bed and to the bathroom to wash up, the cold water you splashed on your face waking you up. After you finished brushing your teeth, you wandered to the kitchen where Abby sat at the table waiting for you.

“What time is it?” you asked.

“Barely nine, so you have plenty of time to finish up your paper and edit,” she said. You came towards her and sat in her lap, wrapping your arms around her neck. Abby’s hands immediately found refuge around your waist as she rubbed them against the small of your back.

“You’re the best girlfriend ever,” you muttered into her shoulder.

“Well, thank you,” she said in response.

“Alright, I’m gonna finish my work,” you announced. You rose from Abby’s lap as she reluctantly pulled her hands away from your body. You pulled out your chair and grabbed the coffee mug Abby left out for you. It was exactly how you liked it, just as she said. After working for nearly an hour, you finally finished your paper and began editing it. That took close to another hour, and by then you were able to turn it in confidently. You let out a sigh of relief as you glanced at Abby beside you.

“All done?” she asked.

“All done,” you said happily. Abby leaned over and kissed your cheek.

“Happy to hear it. Wanna cuddle the rest of the day? I say we rest today since we have a couple more days till our next exams.”

“You don’t even have to ask,” you answered.

[fayoftheforest]

human kite & antisemitism

In the notes of my recent meta on Vampire Kyle AUs, a user reflected on how similar antisemitic stereotypes might overlap with his TFBW character as well. Since I also have some thoughts on this and enjoyed putting together the last lil post I thought I’d do another on this subject too :) 

South Park Fandom Wiki states that Human Kite is heavily inspired by Superman, “being a faraway alien with the ability to fly and to shoot lasers out of his eyes, even wearing a costume with the color red, yellow, and blue and a symbol in his chest to match.”  I think this is pretty cool! Superman was created by Jewish immigrants and is very Jewish-coded in his origin story, being “a refugee with the Hebrew-inspired name ‘Kal-El’ who escaped a dying world and fought Nazis during World War II” (JewishUnpacked). I don’t know if Tratt were aware of these roots, but either way, I think it’s pretty neat :)

South Park Fandom Wiki also claims that Kyle playing an alien character “may be a reference to how Adolf Hitler did not consider Jews ‘human.’" This is. Uh. Less neat.

Similarly upsetting is the name itself, Human Kite, which is a play on words with the horrific ethnic slur “kike.” American Jewish Committee posits that the term “is derived from the Yiddish word for circle, ‘kikel,’ a reference to how Jewish immigrants at Ellis Island signed their entry forms: a circle as opposed to an X, which Jews associated with the cross of Christianity. Immigration officers described those who signed forms with a circle as ‘kikel,’ eventually being shortened to ‘kike.’”

Did Matt and Trey really create his entire character just so that Cartman could call him Human Kike that one time? I can’t say for certain, just in the same way I don’t have a direct quote from them confirming the reasoning behind their selections of names for Kyle and Ike. But I can tell you that if you put ‘em together and you get… yeah. Yep. “Kike” again. Thank you, Tratt, very cool 👍Get a new joke maybe :/

Now, let’s talk specifically about his laser powers. Up until researching for this meta, I had presumed that Kyle’s ability to shoot lasers from his eyes was a direct reference to the Jewish Space Laser conspiracy popularised to the public by terrifyingly influential political figure Marjorie Taylor Greene. In 2018, Greene wrote a Facebook rant speculating that the California wildfires were caused by a giant laser floating in space, owned by the Jews. Very normal thing to believe :|

However, during my research, I realised that these timelines did not match up. As mentioned, Greene’s rant was shared in 2018, but didn’t go viral until 2021. Meanwhile, South Park’s The Fractured But Whole was released way back in 2017! What I had initially assumed was another antisemitic reference is in fact just a dreadful and ridiculous coincidence. Nonetheless, It’s still a commonality that’s worth pointing out, I think.

Just as an aside, I’d like to take this opportunity to give a shoutout to cousin Kyle’s version of Human Kite. Everything about him is an egregious Jewish caricature, from his irritating, snivelling voice to his long list of health issues. It’s not my fault that the limited Jewish gene pool has fucked me over, Tratt! Leave me alone! A meta about antisemitism within Cousin’s Kyle characterisation would be a mile long, so I’ll spare you that for now.

Anyway, what does this all mean when we’re creating fan content around TFBW? Must we just chuck the Human Kite persona into a blender and never speak of it again? Not necessarily. Speaking as a Jewish fandom member, I quite enjoy reading and writing Human Kite. It’s a fun character to play around with! Despite his unfortunate roots, I don’t believe including him is innately antisemitic. It just depends on how you go about doing it! If he’s not secretly running the world, controlling the banks and Hollywood, or consuming the blood of innocent Christians, you’re on the right track. 

You could even go for a little meta-commentary and acknowledge the antisemitic coding within the text! Here’s an example of how I did that in my upcoming TFBW reality swap fic (don’t question why there’s two of everyone, it makes sense within the text lmao)

“Wait, you’re telling me in an alternate reality we’re all aliens?” Kyle gawks at this funhouse-mirror version of himself, who’s busy gawking right back. “No, Kyle, just—just you,” Kenny says. “Oh.” Kyle narrows his eyes. “You know, it’s difficult not to interpret this with antisemitic undertones.” “What, like the Jewish Space Laser conspiracy?” Cartman asks. Mysterion frowns. “Jewish people have space lasers in your universe?” “No,” Cartman sighs and shakes his head forlornly, before muttering, “it’s a made-up rumour to perpetuate mistrust and hatred towards the Jewish community.” “Alright, don’t sound so disappointed,” Kyle huffs. “Guys!” Stan says. “Can we not start this argument again?” “I never said it was a cool rumour, Kyle!” Cartman snaps defensively. “Obviously it’s super harmful and whatever. All I meant was that it would have been cool if it were real. Because, like, space lasers are awesome! Right?” He looks to Kite, apparently presuming that they’re an authority on the matter. “Um.” Kite blinks, then says hesitantly, “I can shoot lasers… from my eyes. And once I did sort of fly up into space and magnify the lasers to destroy Chaos’s tin foil factory. So, uh. Does that help?” Cartman’s face lights up and is split in half by an enthusiastic grin. “It helps a lot, actually.” Kyle groans and pinches his nose. “You have no idea how much education you’ve just undone, dude.” He opens his eyes to glower at Kite. Kenny glances at Chaos. “Tin foil factory?” Chaos waves a hand dismissively. “Outsourcing proved more efficient.”

There we go! A lighthearted little nod, which acknowledges potential antisemitic readings of Human Kite, without justifying or excusing it. It’s not at all necessary when creating fan content around Human Kite, but just know that that’s an option to you, if you so choose. Just make sure antisemites are the butt of your joke, and not Jewish people, lmao.

I’ll finish up by returning to my general sentiment that I held in my Vamp!Kyle post. If you conduct your creations with a basic level of awareness and self-reflection, you’ll probably be alright. Just stay in the know, and you’re all good to go 😎

[crimsonedquill]

Hey! I'm in great need of angst right now. :) Would you like to write Sebastian x f!reader (not Mc) fic where reader is a friend with Seb and Ominis for years and has feelings for Sebastian as long but now is hurt/jealous of Mc being so close to him? Sad or happy ending up to you, thank you!

Lost Love (Sebastian Sallow x Jealous f!reader)

WARNING: Angst ahead

Did I stay up all night to write Sebby angst when I was supposed to be sleeping? Why yes, I did! Let's be real, since MC is basically a gaslighting bitch for most of Sebastian's questline, that angle was too good to pass up. Thanks for the prompt 🖤

“What do you think of them?” you asked your friends as you made your way back to the common room, your bellies deliciously filled with food from the start-of-term feast.

“The new fifth-year?” Ominis asked. “I can’t say I envy their position. Starting this late must be rather daunting, especially in a completely new environment.”

Sebastian chimed in, “I’m quite eager to get to know them, actually. Did you hear they got attacked by a dragon on their way here?”

“Somehow I find it hard to fathom that to be the only reason for your curiosity,” Ominis responded, the skepticism audible in his voice. “You probably couldn’t keep your eyes off her during the sorting ceremony.”

“My, the slander. Y/N, you didn’t see me looking, did you?” Sebastian turned to you with a grin.

Your eyes shot up, the question catching you a bit off guard. “Uh, no, I don’t think so –”

“See?” Sebastian said, turning to Ominis triumphantly. “Now, of course, were she to actually have caught my attention, I’d say you can’t blame a man for having good taste –”

The two continued bickering, but you didn't hear them. Something inside you stung, and you knew what it was. The truth was that you had seen Sebastian looking at the new fifth-year – in fact, you were pretty sure you’d witnessed him practically undressing them with his eyes. You wouldn’t put it like it bothered you… after all, you’d known the handsome Sallow boy to be a flirt ever since he was chasing girls back in Feldcroft – but still… it bothered you.

Entering the common room, the three of you stood in front of the fireplace. “Well,” Ominis yawned, “I’ll be taking my leave. I will see you two at breakfast, if you manage to be out of bed before then.”

“Sweet dreams,” Sebastian said with a chuckle, and he stretched his arms as Ominis disappeared off to the dormitory, causing an involuntary twitching in your stomach.

“I should probably be going as well. See you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you nodded. You watched him walk to the archway, doubt scrambling your thoughts… then you suddenly opened your mouth: “Sebastian?”

He turned around to face you. “Yes?”

The words lingered on your lips. You had been planning to tell him, and now that you were, you suddenly didn’t know what to say. His gaze bore into you, causing you to blush.

“I –” you stammered, “it‘s good to be back, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” he smiled gently. “I’m glad to be here again, with you and Ominis. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded. “Yes. Eh, goodnight.”

The tension escaped you in a sigh after he left. This shouldn’t be so difficult. After all, the two of you had known each other for years; you had shared everything with each other, from tears and grief to dreams and laughter. Yet in some way, you figured this to be the exact problem – what if the things you wanted to tell him would change all of that forever?

As the days passed at Hogwarts, you found yourself consumed by doubt and disappointment. You had spent the entire summer psyching yourself up to confess your feelings to Sebastian, but now you were starting to wonder if it was worth the risk. Despite your attempts to focus on your studies, thoughts of him kept creeping into your mind – imagining his reaction, the way his eyes would light up if only you had the courage to speak up.

Finally, you decided to take the leap and walked up to him after Defence Against the Dark Arts. Shifting your books in your arms, you flashed him a smile and complimented him on his impressive duelling skills.

“Prewett must have thought I’d gotten rusty over summer break,” he scoffed, “I honestly wasn’t even trying.”

“Sure you weren’t,” you playfully nudged him. “So… uhm, I was thinking – perhaps we could go over our Potions homework this evening, someplace quiet?”

“Fine by me. Did you and Ominis already have some ideas?”

You noticed your throat getting dry, making it more difficult to speak. “Well, actually… I believe Ominis has been otherwise occupied, so I thought it could be just the two of us –”

“Ah, so it’s a date then,” he chuckled, not realising how your cheeks were turning red. “Well, count me in.”

“Great! So –”

“Oh, hang on, I’m being stupid.” He stopped in his tracks, facepalming himself. “I forgot I already have plans this evening. I promised the new student a little clandestine tour of the Restricted Section.”

“M-my, already spreading your bad influence, aren’t you?” you said, your smile masking the pain you felt in your chest.

“Force of habit, I’m afraid,” he shrugged. “It’s all rather exciting actually. I’m supposed to be helping them on some kind of quest – they haven’t exactly told me any details yet, but I’m convinced it’s something truly astonishing.”

“Well, keep us posted, will you?” You pretended to suddenly realise that you’d forgotten your quill in the classroom and told him to go on without you. The pain in your chest lingered throughout the day, like a relentless curse, refusing to release its grip even in the refuge of slumber.

— — —

At first, you tried convincing yourself that it wasn’t anything malicious. Sebastian had always been protective, mainly owing to his sister’s condition, and he was probably just putting in an effort to make the new fifth-year feel at home. Yet you couldn’t help but notice that they were spending more and more time together, to the point where even Ominis started taking notice. You ended up discussing the subject one day on your way to the Undercroft to practice some spells you’d recently learned.

“I suppose it’s a bit curious,” Ominis confessed, following the red glow at the tip of his wand down the stairs. “He’s been rather absent-minded lately – even more than usual, if that is what you mean to say.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” you agreed. “It’s like he’s forgotten all about us – all he cares about is spending time with that… girl.”

You noticed Ominis turning his head ever so slightly in your direction with a frown on his face. Shit, you hadn’t meant to put it like that –

“Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but you haven’t sounded quite like yourself either lately. Is everything all right?”

“Of course,” you hastily said as you turned the corner to where the entrance to the Undercroft was. You noticed the hidden door of the clock swinging open and were momentarily thankful for the interruption, but your gratitude was quickly evaporated when you saw the person stepping out. MC’s smile disappeared just as swiftly as they saw you. “Oh, er –”

To your own surprise, it wasn’t you who lashed out at them. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” Ominis demanded.

Your heart sank when you saw Sebastian climbing out of the clock. He quickly jumped in front of MC, putting his hands up. “Ominis, it’s all right, she’s with me –”

Ominis cut him off, “You brought her here? What right could you possibly have had to do that without telling us?”

Sebastian's voice rose as well, “Oh come on, I would have told you eventually! You’re acting as if I couldn’t tell whether someone is trustworthy!”

“It’s not about trust, Sebastian. This is our special place. You should have consulted us before bringing someone else into the fold.”

“I think you’re a bit overreacting, to be honest.” Sebastian turned to you now, clearly looking for some help. Yet the only thing occupying your mind right now was the sight of MC behind him, their infuriatingly smug expression making your blood boil. You shook your head. “You should have told us, Sebastian.”

Sebastian's expression hardened. “Unbelievable. I expected more from you. Come on, MC."

He took her by her arm and pushed past you, leaving you and Ominis in a charged silence. Your heart felt heavy as you watched them disappear down the hallway, wondering when everything had started to change between the three of you.

— — —

Sebastian had been ignoring you for weeks since the incident at the Undercroft entrance. You had tried to reconcile with him, not because of your feelings, but because you hated the thought of losing your friend. Even though you eventually ended up making up more or less, it became painstakingly clear something was blossoming between him and MC. They were basically sitting together in class all the time now, and after some time he even took them to see Anne without telling either you or Ominis.

It left you feeling like something within you had shattered permanently. Worst of all was that you were utterly incapable of doing anything about it. Ominis was still looking out for you, but you were too embarrassed to talk about your feelings even with him. All that was left for you to do was to let the itchy pain of jealousy keep eating away at your insides.

Then, one day, you found Ominis in a quiet corner of the common room, pale as a ghost and on the verge of tears. After some effort, you managed to learn that he had been convinced by MC to take her and Sebastian to Salazar Slytherin’s scriptorium, and it had demanded a terrible price. Initially, you were just shocked. Then a wave of hot anger washed over you, stifling all other thoughts. Fuck your feelings – this wasn’t just about you anymore.

You stormed out and didn’t stop until you had found MC. They seemed surprised to see you; even more when you backed them into a corner, looking ready to tear them apart. “Y/N, what –”

“What were you thinking?” you seethed. “How did you have the audacity to put Ominis through something like that?”

MC was lost for words. “I – it wasn’t my intention! Sebastian told me it would be perfectly safe –”

“But you don’t know him, do you? How could you, you’ve only been here for a few months! And is it true you cast the Cruciatus Curse on him?”

MC’s eyes widened. “He… he asked me to!”

You didn’t know what you were hearing. However, before you could give them the verbal punch in the face they were so obviously begging for, you heard a familiar voice say your name. You swerved around. Sebastian was standing behind you, but he might as well have been a completely different person; he was clutching his side and his eyes had an unrecognisable darkness in them. “Y/N, leave her alone.”

“Sebastian, you’re hurt –” you said, taking a step toward him, but he interrupted you, “I’m fine. No thanks to my dear friend. Can you honestly believe Ominis would actually have let us die down there? Thank Merlin MC was there –”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, your attitude now a mix of indignation and anger. “He’s tearing himself apart in the common room because of what you put him through!”

“He’ll get over it,” Sebastian huffed, though you could see him shuffling his feet. “It was a necessary evil. I’ve never this been close to finding a way to cure Anne. Y/N, I can’t give up on pursuing this,”

Despite your anger, you couldn’t help but feel some compassion for the Sallow boy in that moment. Perhaps it was just your feelings talking, but you forced yourself to calm down, taking a deep breath before you looked him in the eye. “But Sebastian, is all of this really worth it? For Merlin’s sake, look at what it’s doing to you –”

“I said I’m fine,” he insisted, growing harsh again. “And in fact, I think it would be better if you stayed out of our way from now on.”

“But I could help you –”

“Oh yeah? Tell me, would you have casted Crucio on me if I’d asked you to?”

You fell silent, knowing you couldn't have ever put him through that kind of pain. “No,” you said softly.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “Look, Y/N, I appreciate your concern, truly. But I know I can rely on MC here to do what’s necessary. It’d be best for you and Ominis to keep your distance until we’ve been able to figure this out. Do you understand?”

Doubt plagued your mind. Perhaps it would have been easier to believe him if he didn’t have that strange look in his eyes – that deep hunger of a predator which had smelled blood and would stop at nothing to reach it. But either out of love or some naive belief that you could save him if he got too close to the edge, you just nodded.

— — —

You told yourself that it wasn’t you. That it was just some wild goose chase, a hunch he was chasing after in the hope that it could finally be the miraculous means to save his sister. When he was done with her, he would simply cast her aside and come back to you. But you knew he wasn’t that cruel, and it also didn’t explain why it felt like he was slipping away from you as the days went by, to the point where you weren't even sure if you could call him your friend anymore.

Every now and then, you would hear about his escapades. Apparently, he had gotten into trouble with his uncle when he got caught using Dark magic, and he had been banished from seeing his sister after that. It broke your heart to see the handsome boy you used to harbour a secret crush on turn into a mere shadow of his former self, an obsessed mind constantly whispering to himself about revenge and “showing them”.

And then you reached the edge.

A few months had passed when Ominis came up to you, looking completely disheveled and out of breath. “Y/N – we need to get to Feldcroft, now.” he said urgently.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, feeling a foreboding sense of dread.

“Anne sent me a patronus. It’s Sebastian – he’s gone down into the tomb with MC and that infernal artifact. I fear he’s planning to use it.”

You wasted no time in summoning your broom and helping Ominis to mount it. The two of you flew to Feldcroft as fast as you could, fears about what you’d find there running through both of your minds. As soon as you landed in front of the tomb entrance, you both drew your wands and stepped into the darkness, determined to find Sebastian as soon as possible.

You were horrified to find a battalion of Inferni waiting for you down in the cavernous corridors. The two of you fought ferociously, and eventually you managed to battle your way into the final tomb chamber. You saw Sebastian standing in the middle, seemingly captivated by the artifact in his hands. MC was standing a few feet behind him. Upon seeing her, your vision went red around the edges.

“You!” you screamed, leaping forward. “You let him on! All of this is your fault!”

You disarmed them without much effort, all of the rage you’d been keeping inside bursting out in a loud roar. They had taken everything from you, and they would pay for it. You lifted your wand, prepared to cast a curse at them –

“No, leave her alone!” Sebastian yelled, and suddenly everything happened at once. The only thing you remembered was something striking you in your side and the world around you going dark.

The next thing you knew, you woke up in a bed, surrounded by an collection of pastel colours. You groaned and sat up against the pillow, causing a figure sitting next to the bed to turn his head towards you. “Y/N, are you awake?” the voice of Ominis asked.

“Just about,” you said through gritted teeth as you felt the pain radiating from the sore spot in your side. “How did I get here? Where’s Sebastian?”

Ominis took a deep breath. Clearly he had not been meaning to tell you all the details so soon, but to his credit, he wasn’t sparing you from them either. “It was all really chaotic. Sebastian hit you with a Blasting Curse, and you were knocked unconscious. Then the situation quickly spiralled out of control. His uncle arrived and attempted to take the artifact from him… he didn’t take that well. He… ended up casting the Killing Curse.”

Your head started to spin. That couldn’t be, right? Your best friend, the one you’d known all your life… a murderer?

“Where is he now?” you asked. “What happened to MC?”

“Don’t you worry, I warned her to keep her distance if she wanted to avoid incurring my wrath. As for Sebastian – Anne and I discussed what to do about him and… well, we decided not to report him. What he’s done is unforgivable, but the guilt alone will be enough suffering for him to bear.” He paused for a moment. “Of course, I couldn’t fault you for disagreeing.”

You stared up at the ceiling. Everything felt so surreal – it was like you were living a bad dream, struggling to wake up. In the end, all you could muster was a sigh. “Oh, Sebastian…”

Ominis put his hand on your bed. You shifted your own hand towards him, the tips of your fingers touching his. “You cared for him as more than a friend, didn’t you?” he asked.

“I think I still do,” you confessed. “Even after everything… I don’t know. I was going to tell him, that I’d had this crush on him for the longest time, and that I wanted us to be more than friends… it pains me now to think I might have been able to prevent all this.”

His grip on your hand was tight, and his voice was heavy with sympathy. “You couldn't have stopped him,” he said. “Don't blame yourself. He chose his own path, and nothing could have changed that.”

You turned to him, tears brimming in your eyes. “I know,” you whispered. “But it still hurts so damn much.”

He didn't say anything else, but he didn't have to. He leaned in and held you close, and you finally allowed yourself to break down. Your tears flowed, a mourning of not just lost love, but also a broken friendship.

[lithopus]

For the ask game! 1! Who is your favorite character to write for and is this the character you find easiest to write for?

Thank you for the ask!

I guess for fanfiction, I pretty much only write Alhaitham and Kaveh’s POVs—although, actually, I’ve also written two (unposted, sfw) fics for my friends that contained Xingqiu’s POV, and he’s really fun to write for 😂 Now that I think about it, he’s probably the easiest perspective I’ve written. I enjoy his chivalrous and overdramatic way of speaking/narrating, and the guy is such a simp for Chongyun that it cracks me up. I definitely have a lot of fun writing him.

But, going back to Alhaitham and Kaveh…it’s difficult for me to choose! I like writing both of their perspectives for different reasons, and both of them are easy to write in some ways and challenging in others.

I’ll answer the question about whose POV is easiest first.

Technically, it’s Alhaitham’s—his way of thinking is a lot more accessible to me, whereas I sometimes struggle to relate to Kaveh’s perspective on things. It’s kind of similar to how Alhaitham “knows” Kaveh’s philosophies on a theoretical level, but doesn’t emotionally “understand” them the way that someone who personally shares Kaveh’s beliefs would. I more or less know how Kaveh’s mind works, but since I don’t usually approach things the way he does, his attitudes and ideals sometimes aren’t personally familiar to me. There are times when my brain has to work a bit harder to figure out how he views the world.

Because of that, though, I think that it might be easier—counterintuitively—for me to write stories from Kaveh’s perspective. Since I “understand” Alhaitham more, I can more easily convey what he’s thinking/feeling whenever I’m outside his head. Conversely, being inside Kaveh’s head allows me to get a closer look at how he’s processing things, which then makes it easier for me to work through his thoughts and figure out how to portray him.

So, Alhaitham’s POV is the easier perspective for me to write, in a vacuum…but if I’m writing a story about him and Kaveh, writing from Kaveh’s POV often makes things easier for me.

As for my favorite POV to write…if I had to choose a perspective to be stuck in, I think I’d choose Alhaitham’s. I love the unspoken depth of his love for Kaveh—like, his devotion is clear even from Kaveh’s POV, but being inside Alhaitham’s mind lets us see just how much he cares, even though he often hides it behind his sarcastic/detached attitude. I like being able to explore that side of him; it’s kind of like “looking behind the curtain” in the sense that we still see Alhaitham’s usual attitude with the way he speaks and acts, but we also see the contrasting tenderness he feels toward Kaveh (although, when I write him, Alhaitham’s narration does often try to bury that tenderness, lol).

That said, I do also like the idea of leaving Alhaitham’s unspoken affection…well, y’know, unspoken—so, being stuck in Alhaitham’s POV all the time wouldn’t be ideal for me.

It’s also interesting to get inside Alhaitham’s head and dismantle the “rational” barriers that he constructs around some things. That is, he’s clearly capable of caring deeply about certain things—like Kaveh—and I love writing about that kind of quiet intensity. And while I do believe that he’s the calm, logical person we see in canon, I also know that he can’t be invulnerable; he’s human, which means he’s capable of being hurt, and I like seeing how he processes those types of emotions.

But there are things that I enjoy about writing Kaveh’s perspective, too. For example, Kaveh’s artistry and ways of thinking give me more opportunities to be poetic with narration. When I’m writing Alhaitham’s POV, his analogies are usually more practical and functional; they tend to focus solely on explaining a concept, so while they might be creative sometimes, they won’t necessarily sound pretty. With Kaveh, though, I can let loose and be more indulgent with metaphors/imagery to explore a feeling or concept. I haven’t written poetry in a while, but his perspective gives me more room to flex those muscles, lol.

Kaveh’s perspective is also more straightforward, at least for me. Yes, he’s got a lot going on, and his psychology can get complicated at times—but he’s pretty much told us about all of his problems either through dialogue or his character stories, and we’ve seen him when he’s excited, happy, morose, angry, et cetera; he tends to acknowledge his feelings in a more “head-on” way, even when he’s trying to avoid his problems or downplay his emotions. So, I like that he’s a more “direct” kind of character, as opposed to the mental gymnastics Alhaitham performs in order to seem like An Incredibly Chill And Totally Unemotional Guy Who Is Never Bothered By Anything Ever.

(Now that I say that, it’s kind of funny that we joke about Kaveh’s mental acrobatics to misinterpret the things Alhaitham says, when Alhaitham is an Olympic gymnast in his own right 😂)

That’s my main answer, but I do have some additional thoughts about why writing Alhaitham’s POV can sometimes be a challenge for me. I’ll include those thoughts in a reblog, though, since I don’t want my response here to get too lengthy.

UPDATE: my additional thoughts are in this reblog

[stinkythehutt]

an AU idea that i’ve been thinking about lately but i’m not sure i’d ever write is: sidious tries to clone a better version of anakin (without his knowledge) from DNA and matter taken from his severed limbs post-mustafar battle. but, with the sustained damage to the limbs and without the help or technology of kamino, none of it takes very well. only one of the clones actually survives and when tested at around age 3-4 it comes out that he isn’t force sensitive. and, also, he’s inherited a lot of anakin’s more disagreeable traits to the extreme, due to genetic changes and the impact of being raised as an almost-not-quite-dark-lord-of-the-sith from birth.

sidious, in a moment of sidious-like dark humor (and rage at the boy for not being what he wanted), arranges for the boy to be sent to tatooine to live under the ‘care’ of the hutts. this goes as you’d expect until, 7 or so years later, this 10-11 y/o furious, messed-up, came-back-wrong-but-somehow-even-worse, unaware he’s a clone of anakin, kid runs into… obi-wan kenobi, hot off the press of the events of the OWK series.

and obi-wan is like, no. nope. i’m not raising this kid. i don’t know how this happened or what the fuck the galaxy has against me now but no. i’ll figure out a way to free him and i’ll send him to live with the lars but i won’t raise him. so he gets anakin2 freed and they have the galaxy’s most hideous road trip out to the lars’ and they get on terribly and this kid is traumatisingly so like all of the worst parts of anakin with none of the redeeming features. he breaks obi-wan’s landspeeder trying to enhance it and he’s disagreeable and irritable and ungrateful and ungenerous and he isn’t even force sensitive or the chosen one. so obi-wan is straight up just putting up with him out of love for his old friend, who is now literally evil and just recently tried to kill him (again).

only obviously over the few days of their journey they warm to each other just a little. and obi-wan goes to leave 2anakin2skywalker with the lars’ and the kid is furious and hurt and they’re trying to comfort him all wrong and obi-wan is like “wait no he hates when you-“ and realises, fuck. i have to look after this kid. i want to look after this kid. there is nothing actually tying me here and no benefit beyond i kind of care about the little shit now. and i want him to be safe and happy in the same way i wanted anakin to be and i don’t know if i’m good enough to give him that but i have to try. because he needs me.

that, like, exploration of ‘what does this relationship boil down to?’ after all the situational ties are stripped away, all the promises and prophecies and shared histories and goals are gone and instead of in TPM where these two people are bound together by fate, now they are simply bound together by chance and choice and care and love. and how does obi-wan choose to navigate that differently. and how do they both grow and process their own histories. obviously spoiler alert they figure it out and the kid grows up tumultuously happy in the end as a sort of bounty-hunter-rebel type figure and he lives somewhat well on tatooine inciting slave rebellions and getting himself into various troubles and adventures. and he’s never force sensitive and he never joins the official rebellion or learns what happened to old ben who raised him til luke happens to run into him and tell him much later. and there’s no big “wow i’m anakin skywalker! i’m secretly magical and amazing!” moment or anything. he’s just a dude who lives a decent somewhat crazy life out in the sand and fondly recalls the father figure who looked after him when no one else would. the end

[ell-alexanderarnold]

Escapism.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞

Summary: A break up mess between Trent and Y/n.

Angst

Warnings! : This fic contains cursing, mentions of alcohol and light drugs*

Note: This is a mini series, not sure how many parts there will be but I hope you enjoy it <3 + I love listening to Raye while writing angst !

———————————————————————

“I think we should break up” He said.

Your heart sank at his words, is this real? It feels like a dream- no, not a dream, a nightmare.

“Wow” You scoffed.

“What do you mean by wow?”

“I don’t know what to say Trent”

You sat in silence for a while, you felt numb. You knew this was coming but you were still in chock, watching the man you loved for years saying he wants to break up, throw away this relationship that you had since you two were young? You heart was shattered.

“Do you not love me anymore?” You sniffed, tears began to run down your cheeks as he looked at you with his brown eyes, brows furrowed.

“I still love you Y/n, you know this but I don’t think it’s working.” Trent spoke.

“What is not working Trent?” You whispered.

“Us” His voice breaking from his words.

Ouch. You never thought your relationship would end up like this but how it’s been recently, you knew it began to come to an end.

“Well, uhm I guess I’ll pack my things then”

“It’s late Y/n, stay the night please” Trent pleaded.

You really didn’t want to stay the night but you did. It felt strange sleeping beside him, you knew when he’d fallen asleep due his breathing slowing down and you hate that it comforted you. Eventually you managed to get some sleep and tried to forget about the situation you’re in.

You woke up surprisingly early in the morning and rubbed your eyes that felt stuck together probably from all your crying last night. You noticed Trent trying to hold you into his arms in his sleep, but you pulled away. What an idiot. Your boyfriend, now ex boyfriend forgot he broke up with you last night. You find it all funny and laughed quietly. Right now you just wanted to get away from him, you had nowhere to go but figured you could stay at your friend’s place for a few weeks until you find your own place.

-

You spent the whole day packing your things, it felt really strange but you decided it was for the best. At least it was what Trent wanted. He was at the training ground all day so you had your peace for a while, until he came home. Adele blasting on full volume in your headphones as you relate to the lyrics a little too much as you felt a tap on your shoulder, making you jump.

“Oh my god Trent don’t scare me like that!” You blurted looking at him.

“Sorry Y/n” He said looking back at you.

“I just wondered where are you going now? You can stay here if-“

“Trent” You snapped.

“You think I’d want to stay here after everything? You broke up with me remember?” You mocked, feeling all emotions come back to you, tears spilling down your face.

“Don’t be like that Y/n” Trent mumbled.

“Don’t tryna gaslight me Trent, you wanted this. It was your decision you can’t do this to me right now”

“Do what?”

”Telling me to fucking stay? You know you tried to hold me in your arms this morning, clearly your mind isn’t at the right place. Are you sure with your decision?” You cursed, catching him off guard.

Whilst he remained silent you continued to pack the remaining things in your once shared bedroom.

When you were done you looked around, so many memories, you tried to have a ”it is what is is” mindset but that couldn’t take away the pain and emptiness you felt at the moment. You loaded up your car with your things and went back inside one more time to say goodbye to him.

“So I’m all done now, happy?” You shared.

“Okay” He said.

“Okay” You went on.

“I’ll see you I guess” Trent said with sadness in his eyes.

“Yeah” You answered, not sure what to do next but to leave him.

You sat down in your car driving away from the house you once were a happy couple, but it also felt like an escape. Now Escapism. by Raye started playing and the lyrics hit you. “The man that I love sat me down last night and he told me that it’s was over, dumb decision.”

You cried the whole journey to your friend’s place, when arriving at her house you just crashed down in her guest room, crying yourself to sleep.

———————————————————————

Months had gone past since your break up, you found an apartment, you were still not sure how to feel but you just went on with the flow, you started to hang out with old friends that was not involved in Trent’s friend group, trying to avoid him at all costs. You’ve been so busy with work, the only thing that broke the never ending cycle was going out clubbing every weekend drinking, trying to forget Trent, but we all know you couldn’t. If you were the one who broke up with him you wouldn’t have felt this way but now he broke up with you.

The week had come to an end and as usual you planned going out. You put on a tight black dress and some heels. Your phone buzzed and you guessed it was your friend waiting for you outside.

“Hey girl, you look stunning!” She praised.

“Thank you Zoe, you look stunning too!” You beamed back at her.

”So where are we going tonight?” You asked her, making sure you don’t end up at a place where you might bump into Trent.

“Oh just a club in Liverpool, I think we went there on your birthday last year” She responded, your eyes widened at her answer.

”No, no we can’t Trent might be there” You cautioned.

“Y/n stop overthinking, he won’t be there and we will have fun, okay?” Zoe claimed.

She was right, you were overthinking and even if you met him you wouldn’t be interested, or would you?

You and Zoe arrived at the club, met up with your other friends and here the nightmare begins. You saw him, the one and only person you didn’t want to see.

“Zoe, I saw him, swear” You panicked.

“No Y/n you’re delusional” Zoe said.

”Let’s get some drinks, it will take your mind of off him” She assured.

The night went on well, successfully you hadn’t bumped in to Trent yet and you were relieved by that because you were way too drunk to interact with him right now. Your vision started to get blurry but you kept drinking.

“Woah, you seem a little too gone Y/n” Someone said, the voice was familiar and you feared the worst.

“Trent?” You bellowed.

”Let’s get you out of here” He advised.

“What? No, I’m having fun” You spoke.

“You’re drunk”

“Yeah, no shit” You snapped.

The moment that sentence left your mouth you felt Trent take your wrist dragging you out of the club, your drink still in your hands.

He started the car, you couldn’t process everything that was happening in your head. You took a sip of your drink mixing it with a pill you find in your purse, trying to escape all the feelings.

“Lipstick smudged like modern art, I don’t know where the fuck I am or who’s driving the fucking car, speedin’ down the highway sippin’, mixin’ pills with the liquor ‘cah fuck these feelings” Once again the lyrics haunted you.

”You shouldn’t be doing that Y/n” Trent said whilst he was trying snatch your drink away from you. You didn’t hear him, you were too caught up in your own world.

“Hey, you had enough love” He said, sounding more worried this time.

“Don’t tell me what to do, I’m not yours anymore” You said quietly.

“What did you say?”

“I said I’m not yours anymore” You slammed, thinking back this was just like the arguments you and Trent had before you two broke up.

You fell asleep after too much mumbling from your drunk thoughts. You woke up feeling someone lifting you up into their arms, you looked up at him and cried “Trent I’m so sorry”

“Shh, it’s gonna be alright” He whispered.

He laid you down in his bed, letting you undress yourself and put on one of his t-shirts. You were now thinking about that you left Zoe all alone in the club, but you sent her a message.

You: I’m at T’s house, talk to you tomorrow x

You noticed that Trent had gotten into the bed, you turned off your phone and decided to get some sleep.

“I left everyone I love on read, spilling secrets to the stranger in my bed, I remember nothing so there’s nothing to regret, other then this 4-4 kick drum pounding in my head”

———————————————————————

Part 2 coming soon… Let me know your thoughts ! 💌

Part 2

[ghostoffuturespast]

Works In Progress 2023: A Cyberpunk 2077 Year In Review

I thought for a hot minute about doing one of those snazzy templates that’s been going around, but editing photos just ain’t my MO and rather than going by month I picked 12 favs that I’ve posted in 2023. Some of them were popular, some of them weren't. Overall, I think I did pretty good for just doing vanilla photomode on console.

You might be wondering why there's a picture of a sticky note. I don't remember when I started doing this, and I'm horribly inconsistent as you can see by the dates, but I'll jot down my word count for my wip chapter and then jot it down again when I remember to later.

I write slow. A lot of times I sit down to write and it feels like the wheels are spinning in place. My minutes and hours don't stretch very far, typically don't add up to much. But days, weeks, months. That's when I can at least measure the progress.

Fic: So It Goes 40/44 - 438,946 words

My V x River Ward and tinfoil hat conspiracy theory long fic. I've spent way more hours on this then I have on any of my VP.

I got tagged by @just-a-cybercroissant @therealnightcity and @wanderingaldecaldo to do some WIP Whenevers. I post my VP pretty regularly, so it’s always seemed silly to do work in progress posts for them, and I don’t know when I’ll have any new writing to share since in between work and the holidays, I haven’t had much time to sit down with anything since my last chapter update. And I've been feeling very... stingy, lately. Especially when it comes to mine and other people's writing. So take this WIP/Year In Review as my offering. Both these series, as am I, are all very much still works in progress. 

I confined my reflections for this year below the cut. If you don’t want to read my long-ass essays, you can admire the pictures, maybe check out my fic, or just move along and have yourself a lovely day.

We’ll start with the easy one.

VP

After at least a year of multiple playthroughs (I’ve played all the lifepaths, done all the endings), it only occurred to me at the beginning of this year to start taking VP. Part of the reason I never did before was because I didn’t realize it was a thing and then by the time I did, I figured I didn’t have much to offer. I play on PS5 and only have access to vanilla photomode, so seeing everyone else’s high-fidelity, ultra ray-tracing, modded, posed, full on virtual photo shoot photos, I was like there’s no way. (Not that I’m hating on PC modders, it’s just not everyone has access to mods or a PC capable of running the game, and I’m all for making art and creative endeavors accessible.) On top of that, all I’d ever heard from most other folks was how much vanilla photomode sucked. In the glamorous world of VP, I didn’t think there was any room for me.

But I started snapping pics anyway. And sure, there are a lot of limitations with vanilla photomode. But what that really translates to is opportunities to get creative. I am also a hoe for subverting people’s expectations, and very much believe when there’s a will, there’s a way.

Environmental and landscape shots were my first subjects before I started branching out into portraits and then capturing story moments. Through VP I found an entirely new way to enjoy a game that I’d already played a ridiculous number of times along with also finally being brave enough to share my V with other people too. I’d always worried about that before, if people would like her. Granted, I know Grandpa’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but whether you like her or not, I certainly think she’s made a name for herself over the past few months. Even if most people haven’t really gotten to know her the way I’d hoped. 

I’ve taken hundreds of photos this past year. Most of which I’ll never share. There’s a lot of flops, a lot of weird experiments, ones that didn’t quite turn out the way I’d hoped, but I’ve learned something from every single one of them. I know how to spot good lighting, frame shots to create optical illusions, get a very limited toolkit to work in my favor, parkoured on all of the things, and heck, I even figured out how to make Grandpa smooch other NPCs. I’ve done atmospheric, mundane, down right goofy, as well as things that most people probably thought weren’t fucking possible.

I can’t say how long I’ll keep doing this, I’m sure I’ll move on at some point, but for now I’m still enjoying myself. There's a lot to explore in this game and I just can’t stop digging Night City.

Now, for the more complicated thing.

Writing

So It Goes… My peace, my war, my greedy and most ravenous of ghosts.

I’m operating under the assumption that most people following me here probably haven't read my fic or aren’t all that interested in reading it to begin with. It’s fine. But you need to understand this fic, my writing, is the main thing that brought me here. This is also Grandpa V’s story. Most of you have met her, but unless you've been reading, most of you do not know her.

I wrote around 185,000 words and posted 10 chapters this year. 2022 was about 253,000 words and 30 chapters, along with several unrelated one shots. However, I don’t think I’ve done a single chapter this year that was less then 10k, and my longest managed to hit 27k. As of the last update I posted, the fic is currently sitting at around 439k words, 40 chapters, and still isn’t done.

I have four more chapters to write. I have written a metric shit ton of words. This is, by far, the longest and most intense creative project I’ve ever endeavored to complete.

When I started writing, I was expecting this fic to be around 100-150k. That seemed to be the average for most long fics. I did not plan on being an outlier. I'm not sure you can ever really plan for that, but I guess I enjoy subverting my own expectations too.

For those of you who are reading my fic, it is my sincerest hope that it shatters every expectation of where you think it’s going. It’s not a joke that I tagged my fic “#an ode to my tinfoil hat”. An ode it has turned out to be. I’ve been sitting on this theory for two years. I have told no one about it. I hope it sticks the landing and hits the way I want it to. I don't know if it will. But fuck, I just want to be done with it so I can move on with my life, take a break, and give myself the opportunity to make and focus on other things before I have to get back on the damn horse.

I wrote less this past year then I did in 2022. I had a lot of life changes, most of which were good, but with times of change come times of adjustment. Along with some realizations that maybe you don’t understand as much as you thought you did. Looking back, I’ve been in a state of unsettled, kuzushi, for a really long time. Which is not a good place to be. It’s how your ass ends up on the ground with a knee knocking out all your teeth. I thought I knew better. Thought I had enough practice to get away from it. But bad habits have good memories.

I think given the circumstances, I accomplished a lot with my writing this year. I don’t know if my writing is exactly where I want it to be. I doubt it every will be, but it’s evolved, grown, and I wrote a pretty hefty stack of words considering I started working full-time again, bought a house with my partner, moved, and have been dealing with the millions of other beans that life tends to throw one’s way. That being said, and for full disclosure, I’ve also been dealing with some of the worst cases of jealousy and envy I’ve had since I was a teenager. 

Frankly, it sucks. They walk with me every fucking where I go, hold my hands to whisper back all my doubts. Try to persuade me to my baser instincts, to be cruel and lash out. But that's not aikido. Luckily, I’m not 16 anymore so it’s at least been easier for me to identify the problem. Though I’m still coming up short in terms of actually being able to do anything about it, and will be for at least a few months more. 

Yeah, I keep talking about it because I don’t know how many people know that I've been feeling this way. And I’m tired of not talking about it in a room full of creatives, because yeah, I know I’m not the only one that feels this way. And not talking about it just makes all that pent up resentment worse for everyone.

Don’t get me wrong, I love writing. But with the way I work and think, it’s a slow, tedious, and incredibly time-consuming art. With how much my fic has snowballed over the course of writing, it’s left very little room for the other hobbies in my life. And as my fellow writers probably already know, writing is an incredibly insular craft. And unlike a picture or an image, which only requires a glance, reading a bunch of words requires time and commitment.

So, when you put yourself out there and share what you wrote, it’s a lonely feeling not knowing whether or not anyone connected with what you put on the page. Especially, when the people who do read aren’t compelled to voice anything and when the people you’d hope would read don’t. And then you're stuck in the dark, not knowing, because neither of us says a goddamn thing.

I started writing this fic prior to actually joining the CP2077 fandom. And I joined the fandom because I felt alone. I’ve been here a while now, albeit in a few different places, and that feeling still hasn’t gone away. I’m still trying to find camaraderie with my fellow writers and carve out something that kinda sort of resembles a home or a sense of community. I watch my peers around me as they seem to build that with each other, except me.

I’m envious of the things that people make and jealous of the relationships those have created and fostered between said people, because for the life of me, it’s been a struggle to cultivate that since I got here. I know it’s selfish, but I also don’t know what about me makes people so hesitant. There have been a handful of strangers that have shown up for me regularly, but as far as people I call friends in this fandom that have shown up and actually stuck around, I can only name one right now. (I know we're all busy. And I acknowledge my writing's not for everyone. I know maybe some of you are quiet, or shy, or probably a thousand other things. I get it. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less. People will never know unless you say. Never know unless you take the time to interact or engage. Be brave. And that's true for a lot of things.)

The propensity is for the negative to outweigh the positive. I've got a lot of numbers on my fic, so you would think things would be fine, but at this point they just feel empty. They don't bring me any comfort or real satisfaction. And I hate feeling like the people I know don’t care and that most of you are just talking around me. That I’m some kind of annoyance not fit to interact with. Which may or may not be the case. I don’t know. Again, most of you have never said anything. And maybe I need to accept the fact that most of you never will.

But this is me trying to start conversation.

It’s really shitty, knowing that the thing I want the most is also the thing holding me back. I know how to work on it too, not that it’s any guarantee. The problem is I’m still writing and in a needy state of greed. And because I’m slow, I don’t have the time or the energy to be generous. I can only take right now. I can’t give. 

Relationships require both.

I can’t bring myself to read other people’s writing. I can’t comment, or like, or share if I haven’t read anything. I'm desperate for conversation, but I also don't have the time or assurance to facilitate it with other people right now. And for some reason people never seem to want to talk to me, especially when it comes to writing. I want to be part of conversations, talk deeply with other people. But I can’t speak right now, I'm not in a place to offer generosity without someone first giving it to me.

And generosity and grace is what we all need.

Four more chapters and I hope my ghosts will finally let me read in peace.