#hmm. there's barely any context in those tags.

[lilies-and-forget-me-nots]

✏️ 🎭 💐 :3

oc emoji asks!

✏️ PENCIL - is there a particular quote / lyric that you associate with them?

There’s actually a lot! Though here’s a lyric that influenced her softheartedness (which I used for a picrew tag game like last last week but shhh):

"The dropped knife I can no longer grasp it. Rather than such an ending, I'd rather become bubbles and disappear!" — Little Cry of the Abyss by sasakure.UK feat. Asako Toki

Very obvious inspirations just from these lines!! For more context the song is basically about the original version of the Little Mermaid, where the mermaid was given a choice: kill the prince with a silver knife, or turn into sea foam and cease to exist. So, basically, Kayo would be the little mermaid refusing to kill her prince despite very obvious repercussions if she doesn’t. Hmm…

There's also this excerpt that won't be relevant until way down the line:

One day...

🎭 MASKS - do they act differently around certain people? what's different between the way they act around friends, family, strangers, etc.?

Kayo was once a really bubbly girl, and once tried to get close to Seiji and the other staff at the church. The only problem was her reputation, their odd belief that she was a demon. They would always maintain a certain distance from her at all times, afraid of angering her in case she snaps, but also not wishing to treat her kindly. 

Because of this, towards both those living in the church and her schoolmates back in the day, she would always keep her voice down and close in on herself so no one would have any reason to be scared of her. Ironically, that’s the reason why her classmates started isolating her. She was physically imposing—tall, long and dark hair, and piercing eyes—who wouldn’t be afraid of the girl who never speaks, but stares into your soul like she knows what's in there?

In the end, she was alienated.

Later as the hunter, she stopped caring about masks, and adopted a general friendly, yet dry demeanor towards most humans. She’s even flirty at times, though her sweet words are always empty. She treats demons with obvious disdain, less of a personal grudge, and more of because she has no incentive to be kind to them. They’re prey, and they might as well be dead, so who cares if they come to hate her?

As a bride, she finally met people that weren’t scared of her—the vampires, the school staff, and even her new classmates. 

She tried sucking up to the vampires to not get killed immediately for Yui’s sake—if she dies too early there’s a chance someone would find out that she isn’t actually the bride—but eventually her original, kinder personality shows through and she ends up being either a big sister and a spoiled brat, depending on who she’s with.

With school staff and classmates, she’s generally friendly, though a little awkward. She’s willing to befriend anyone who approaches her first, and even tries to reach out herself sometimes. Be kind to her, she’s new to this.

💐 BOUQUET - create a bouquet for them! what do those flowers mean? are any of the flowers their particular favourite?

((i’m not that well-educated on bouquet making, since i think the entire bouquet has to have a coherent meaning in the end… welp ><;))

Queen of the Night ; The centerpiece. Treasure the small moments. You’ve forgotten them, but it lives on in someone else’s mind. This flower only blooms under certain conditions. Is there a side of you that hasn’t appeared yet?

White Lilies ; Rebirth. You were reborn so many times, did you forget?

Forget-me-nots ; Keep me in your thoughts. Naturally it's part of the bouquet—it’s your favorite flower, after all, even if you can’t remember why. How silly that you’ve done the very thing this flower begged you not to do.

Blue Hydrangeas ; Apology. Are you apologizing, or is this someone apologizing to you?

Skeleton Flowers ; Affection. Like how rain turns its petals transparent, one day you’ll have to lay yourself bare against the world.

Baby’s Breath and Bluebells ; Everlasting love. Someone loves you dearly, even if you don’t realize it.

[mareenavee]

15, 16, and 19 for any characters you like! -sylvienerevarine

Hello, hello! Thank you for these!

Skyrim Asks for my fic The World on Our Shoulders!

Gonna answer these for Teldryn because WHY NOT. Let's go!

ask game is here.

I am going to include a writing fragment below because of course I am (: Under the cut for formatting kindness.

15. Do they consort with Daedra?

Why yes, yes he does. Not for the usual Dunmer cultural reasons, either -- he's the Nerevarine. (It's in the fic tags so it's not really a spoiler!) He is Azura's champion, meant to be the downfall of the Tribunal. And how he was. These days, sometimes she sends him odd dreams that are more or less out of context but hasn't truly spoken to him in some time as she had back in the 3rd era.

There have been other encounters with other Daedra. He's been annoyed by Hircine once or twice. It wouldn't surprise him if he'd crossed paths with Sanguine on one of his benders. He's almost positive he came dangerously close to making a bad deal with Vile. He's probably currently spun into some web or another with Mephala, because who isn't? There'd been nightmares, too. Plenty of those seemed influenced by Vaermina herself. Though there's no concrete proof of either of those. And Hermaeus Mora...hmm. He's met him once or twice, and that one likely isn't done with him -- or Nyenna for that matter.

A fragment from a future chapter 43 for you, then -- not final (:

“Hmm… come, bask in my presence,” the abyss said. Nyenna’s throat felt like it was closing and she did not move an inch.

“What are you?” she asked, voice strained with fear. “What do you want with us?”

“What am I, hmm? Not what, who. Who am I, hmm? I am Hermaeus Mora. I am the guardian of the unseen, and knower of the unknown. I have been watching you, mortal. Most impressive,” the thing said. “Your generosity has rendered my previous servant…hmm…useless. He has been…destroyed. I will require…hmm…another champion. When the time comes, you will take his place.”

Nyenna heard the rage of her dragon screaming inside her skull, even through her tears and her terror. She knew the tales of the Daedric Princes and the destruction they wrought over the ages. This thing had deceived even Septimus Signus, though he had previously admitted to being damaged by the Elder Scrolls. Perhaps he had not been in his right mind, and this beast took advantage, only making his condition worse. She was not weakened. She would not be used.

“I will have nothing to do with the likes of you,” she spat with disgust, though she was still crying. Teldryn’s breath caught as he looked with wide eyes between her and Hermaeus Mora.

There was a wet screaming sound, like the death throes of a mutilated, mutated creature as the squid-like eye of the Daedric Prince moved not inches from her face, anger visible somehow around it in its ink. She heard the sound of tentacles writhing and felt bile creep up her throat. Icy dread gripped her and she could barely breathe. She couldn’t look away as the eye bore down on her. In her peripheral vision, more eyes than she could count focused on her from all angles. She began to tremble. Teldryn held on to her more tightly.

“Who do you think put these events into motion, hmm? Who guided the addled one here? Whose information…hmm…brought you back safely to open this box and loose my knowledge on this…hmm…world? Not your Aedra, no. Not your…hmm…dragon-soul. Me,” the thing said. He let the declaration hang there in the air between them.

“I came here on my own to finish my quest,” Nyenna said, resolve faltering. Her voice felt small as she tried to speak, smaller than it had felt for some time now. “I… It has nothing to do with…with you.”

“Foolish girl. Your free will is an illusion,” the abyss spat, voice venomous. “Whether you acknowledge me or not is your own business. But I…hmm…I am in your mind. You cannot escape me. You never will.”

Nyenna’s rage had cooled as quickly as it had burned and she was sobbing again, reminded of the terror of her dream world. Of the inky darkness and the monsters held within. Was her nightmare given to her by this abomination? Had she walked his realm in her sleep? 

“He who has been…hmm…lost to you, girl, is…hmm…alive, by the way. Though by all accounts, the world would be…hmm…better off if this was not true,” Hermaeus Mora hissed. He let out a low, evil sounding laugh.

“Who is?” Nyenna asked, unthinking. Her heart seized in her chest. Lost to her, specifically? Her voice croaked as she said his name. “Eris?”

There was no way. She had watched him die. She had seen the light of his soul leave his eyes. She tried to close her eyes as they filled with tears but found she could not. The tears blurred her vision.

“You are mine, Dragonborn. And you will…hmm…seek me for this answer. I await the day you…hmm…give in,” the abyss said, the room once again filling with his low, slimy cackle. The eye slid its focus off of her for the barest of seconds, glancing at Teldryn, who had frozen in place next to her. The eye narrowed as the water-logged laugh quieted. When it returned its focus to Nyenna, the giant squid eye blinked just once more before the writhing, inky mass collapsed in on itself, leaving no trace behind.

16. Did they feel sympathy for any villains they came into contact with? If so, who and why?

Teldryn definitely holds a more survival focused approach to defeating enemies. In the moment, it's usually incredibly difficult to find the time for things like sympathy or mercy -- usually it comes down to a fight to the death, especially when one side is a legendary hero. There's also the question of what constitutes a villain? Simply a person on the wrong side of an equation? He had no sympathy whatever for someone like Dagoth-Ur, not after all the chaos caused to his people. There might have been a glimmer of regret, perhaps an echo from something in a past life if those things are to be believed. But the only way forward for his people at the time, was to end him and to stop the blight.

Dagoth-Ur was...a symptom of a deeper problem. A different betrayal. But did that betrayal from thousands of years ago translate to villainy specifically? It's not like there wasn't a semblance of peace for Morrowind for a time -- but of course there's so, so much that can be peeled back about that (and I did not go into it for World, and I did not write a Morrowind fic.) Suffice to say, there were evils underneath the surface, even under the best of intentions. That said, Teldryn isn't sure why, exactly, but he let Vivec go. Yes, the one who held Baar Dau over the city as a reminder of his power. As a threat. Who, upon losing his power, could be the reason Morrowind is in such a state in the 4th era because of this decision. He was a villain. This facet was villainous. Was it sympathy to spare him even after that or a different kind of defeat? Still not sure. Teldryn had destroyed Vivec's connection to divinity and death would come for him eventually. It just didn't have to be by his hand.

19. Do they have any family?

Once, a long time ago, at this point beyond his earliest memories, he did have parents, back when he lived in the Imperial City. He was a young child when they died and he was shipped off to Morrowind, a place he'd never seen. There had been an uncle he was to stay with according to his papers, but he never made it that far. He ran away as soon as he got off the ship. Nobody followed him. Nobody rescued him. He grew up on his own and stayed without a family for literally centuries.

These days, at least in the flash-forward chapters of my fic, he is in the process of having a family, we'll say. He's not married, but he and Nyenna are about to be parents regardless. Until now, he had friends who filled the empty places where a family might have been. Things change, even if it takes centuries, though. (:

[mhaccunoval]

Hmm how about some hypothermia, accidental drug use, and Only One Bed for the trope ask game to throw you some more :3

SOME MORE THINKERS... THINKS AND SCHEMES...

— hypothermia —

honestly a solid C. like i'm super neutral on this because it's another thing i've read barely any fic for. i think in appropriate situations (i.e., like. fucking. if its hanluke on hoth or SOMETHING) it could work, and maybe some other tags along with the hypothermia tag would catch my interest (probably more than the hypothermia tag)? though i don't know if i would be pedantic about accurate depiction of symptoms or not (simply because I'M so hit or miss about whether i want to accurately depict things in my own writing, especially if it's a plot point that'd get SOME attention but wasn't the MAIN focus). i don't want to completely write it off because who knows, maybe i'll say this and then find something with the tag that catches my eye And is well written. i think it is mainly just a matter of IF it's an appropriate context for it to take place, topped by however the narrative and characters are going to recover/move past it

— accidental drug use —

ANOTHER thing i haven't read much of, if any, so definitely a C— but one leaning towards D? mainly because i don't know how it'd reasonably fit into anything i read / would read? (i SAY that and then think about house drugging wilson several times in show, which i think would count towards this, so like WHERE DO MY LOYALTIES LIE). like maybe it's me thinking about it from a similar perspective to all those fucking Sex Pollen fics. maybe THAT'S the actual issue. though simultaneously i can't think of any GREAT scenarios of this happening (especially in trying not to worry that some non-con fics would have it). i mean i can see if it's a genuinely genuine accidental ingestion/administering And leads into the person being comforted by someone else trying to help them through it, not take advantage of them or anything, that wouldn't be as bad. perhaps you and/or someone else will have to send me some examples because now i'm curious about how i genuinely fall off the fence

— one bed —

i think this one is maybe between B and C. because of its popularity, i think it's a trope that can easily get played out And get unrealistic (or at least awkward for a presented setting) which i think is why i subconsciously avoid it usually. but of course everything is context and structure based with me so. i CAN see a scenario where a dinky motel or only has one bed and characters go through the motions of sharing it, because. dinky motels and inns are just like that. or if they're staying with someone's grandma, or whatever else. obviously i think the context of the characters themselves plays into it too because. some characters WOULD canonically fight the physical circumstance, try to sleep on a couch or even the ground, because that's just How They Are, and then reasonably transitioning from that to getting them into bed with the other person for whatever else to happen is just something the author has to grapple with. though even if that could be written well, i still think it'd be a B- or C+ simply because i would REALLY have to be in the mood for the trope to pick it out or, more realistically, find it amongst tags that better pique my interest Then read it in that regard. as with everything, i'm not COMPLETELY writing it off!!! just. i'm picky and pedantic.

[ryttu3k]

His Dark Materials season 3! Apparently the UK side is doing... some kinda tomfoolery (the US is doing two episodes a week for four weeks, Australia is following suit a few hours later, but the UK is releasing the entire season at once on the 18th on BBC iPlayer, including the entire half-season that hasn't aired anywhere else yet?), so should be interesting. I'll be using the tag 'hdm spoilers' for everything.

(But seriously, such a weird distribution method. Why not just release the first four, then 5-6 and 7-8 concurrently with the US/Aus broadcast?)

Anyway. Thoughts on His Dark Materials 3.01 and 3.02, The Enchanted Sleeper and The Break! Will mention later-season stuff, so spoilers!

It felt... a little underwhelming? Like it wasn't bad by any means, just kind of... okay, here's some stuff that's happening. Was lower on the Holy Shit Quotient than other episodes have been. On the other hand, the later episodes will be upping the Holy Shit Quotient exponentially, so that helps!

Mrs Coulter was fascinating to watch. There's that manipulation there, but also like? The apparent genuine love and concern for Lyra? The scenes with Will felt so tense, both of them loving Lyra but in completely different ways, the combination of hinting at a way for Will to save Lyra to instantly dismissing him when he was no longer useful. I was genuinely cringing when she was talking about Will's Mum, leading to the knife breaking. And in doing so, she damned herself, because the only reason she wanted Will close by was for the knife in the first place! Good job, Mrs Coulter, you played yourself!

Iorek is back! And being badass! On the other hand, was not a fan of how the scene with Will played out, it just... felt rushed. And they just left a chopped-in-half sky iron helmet sitting there, apparently? Like damn at least pick it up to reforge it. I would have liked to get more context on why the Panserbjorn were moving, too, although we may get that exposition in the next episode. On the other hand, moving the action to some random island in the German Sea instead of Literally The Himalayas might lessen that story element, because why would they move south if not to go somewhere where they still have snow and ice?

I don't know. TV adaptations and all.

Also unsure about the angels. They felt... quite abrupt? Like why would the audience care that Baruch died, we've barely got to know him. Balthamos' departure felt extremely abrupt, too. Also wow, Asriel and his angel torture chamber was. Rough.

(Also re: the torture chamber, I totally heard that as 'adamantium' and laughed because.  You know the material Wolverine (and his li'l clone Laura, played by Dafne Keen) has as claws? Thanks, Professor X :) Kind of up there with Pan taking a wolverine form last season (which still fits due to his preexisting preference for mustelid forms!).)

Didn't mind the newer scenes with Ogunwe, it helped flesh out the whole concept of Asriel recruiting across the worlds by actually showing what that involves. I do like that Asriel's worked out how to cross worlds without having to murder small children, that helps :| The Intention Craft looked pretty cool too. Mary popping by just to see what happened was interesting, although I'm still ridiculously impatient to get to the Mulefa, so. Come on, guys!

Back to Ogunwe, lmao Asriel's expression watching him with his daughter. "Oh. Huh. Loving father-daughter relationship. Didn't know that was a thing that was a thing that could happen. Hmm. I wonder if I'll learn anything from this?"

Interesting take on the Gallivespians, although I miss the dragonflies. There were some interesting parts where Salmakia in particular looked like she had slightly inhuman proportions, not sure if it was clever filming angles or CGI?

Land of the Dead looks proper creepy. Felt so... well... dead. I did miss how they handled it in the book, though, with how abruptly those scenes cut in and out, which was something they could do on TV, so it’s not even an adaptation issue. Pan's comment after Lyra's dream, though, about not being able to follow her... oh god gonna be a mess during that scene.

One thing I really enjoyed - daemons representing inner turmoil. We didn't get to see as much with Lyra and Pan since she spent most of the episodes unconscious, but there were some really neat scenes with Mrs Coulter and the Golden Monkey (like watching Lyra escape before finally electing to alert Mrs Coulter), and Asriel and Stelmaria (where she's basically going, "Excuse me, Lyra and Pan are my kid/s too, you know you care about them, you ass!").

You go Mrs Coulter you fuck up that creepy Father Gomez! Because holy shit, creepy as hell. There’s a comment on the subreddit saying how if the spider wasn’t his daemon, he’d probably be pulling its legs off, and yeah, accurate. Also Will's stunned expression after shooting the soldier threatening Ama, the poor kiddo.

A minor note of silliness - since Australia is drawing from HBO, we're also getting their built-in subtitles, and they described Mrs Coulter and Ama as using ASL. The credits confirm that, no, that's BSL. That's a whole other language. HBO, it's okay to let American viewers know that other languages exist, it really is XD

Also, Pan hiding in Will's jacket. My heart.

[bangtanloverboys]

thought trade (i) // jjk

summary - In a world where soulmate systems exist, you get one of the strangest ones you can think of. You speak your soulmates thoughts without any regard for context and that’s your only hint. At first it’s a bit strange, as you start blurting out random Korean phrases and stuff but one day you get so fed up that you start cursing at the world for giving you the most useless systems there is. It isn’t until you check twitter and see that a certain K-Pop Idol is trending for a random outburst in English that’s your words. . .

pairing - idol!jungkook x gender neutral!reader

genre - fluff; soulmate au

word count - 4.2k

warnings - none 

author’s note - the reader in this fic in gender neutral and when there’s italics it means they’re talking in korean. also this is the first story i’ve published publicly in 6 years, if you’ve noticed anything about this fic grammarwise, please tell me and i’ll correct it.

part ii

You honestly don’t know what you expected when you turned 20 as you awaited for your soulmate system to show. Most common it was tattoos that showed up, your soulmates first words or birthdays. The lucky ones got to share thoughts or perhaps even see each other in dreams but none of that happened to you. No, soon as you turned 20 nothing really changed. It wasn’t until 2 weeks later when you were out having dinner with some friends and you just blurted out a random full sentence in full Korean. 

You were confused. You didn’t speak Korean at all, you could barely speak Spanish from the 4 years you took it in high school. So how in the world did you say. . .whatever you said without any prior knowledge. The friend you were having dinner with suggested it was your soulmate system. But you’ve never heard of a system that would have you blurt out Korean. Keeping the soulmate system in mind though, you decided to seek out a sort of soulmate doctor.

With soulmate systems becoming more and more common, they were confusing to the people that had the system as well as the people around them, so some people have taken it upon themselves to study and record different types of soulmate systems to help understand. Very next day after your Korean dinner burst, you google the nearest one and book an appointment for the following week. 

You still had no idea what you’re saying so you’ve started a habit of keeping a voice memo recorder on you at all times recording every single thing you say or hear throughout the day. You’ve gone through three so far and only caught one outburst. You managed to roughly translate a few words: Army, dance, and concert. You have no idea about any of the context behind those words but you’d have to wait before you’d get any answers.

Finally your appointment with the soulmate doctor rolls around and you explained your situation, how you randomly burst out in Korean and how you have no idea what to do with what’s going on or how to communicate with your soulmate. The doctor frowned upon hearing your description. Turning to her computer, she began to type in your system attributes. 

“Well, your system is fairly unique, I’ll say that for sure.” She responded, as she turned back to face you. “What I mean is, there have only been about 3 or 4 other cases with systems similar to yours. It’s called thought trade. You’re speaking your soulmates thoughts or words. As for the Korean bit, your soulmate is Korean and that’s as much as I can tell.”

“Is there any way I can control it? To a point where I don’t randomly blurt out stuff in another language?” You asked, desperate for any sort of solution. The three times you burst out were very embarrassing and the looks you got made you feel weird and shameful.

“Hmm, soulmate systems have only been known to let up until after the fact you’ve met. As for controlling? The only record we have of that is pressing enough thought to a point where you can force them to say it. Other than that, no, I’m sorry.”

You left the soulmate doctor feeling a bit dejected. You honestly didn’t know what to do about this; soulmate systems were supposed to make finding your soulmate easier and this didn’t seem to help you get anywhere. The only logical thing you could think of was to start taking a Korean language class at your college. Before the first class had started, you were sure to explain to your professor your reasoning behind taking the course. Thankfully, he was very understanding and promised he’d help you personally with any translations if needed. 

After a few classes you finally had an outburst in class. Everyone in your class turned to stare at you in confusion, clearly whatever you said wasn’t a part of class and you felt your face grow red. The looks of their faces made you want to curl up under your desk and hide until the end of class. Your professor took liberty to explain to the class that it was your soulmate system upon seeing your embarrassment; to which your fellow classmates were understanding. 

“Y/N, if it’s alright with you, may I incorporate your outburst into the lesson.” You gave a small nod as he clasped his hands together. “Alright, can anyone guess or translate what Y/N, or moreso, what their soulmate said?” He asked the lecture class, a few people raised their hands. He pointed to one of the guys in the front row. “Yes, Jay?”

“They said ‘I don’t know why I’m speaking like I don’t know my own language, hyung!’” Jay responded, before turning to look at you at your desk. “Perhaps he caught on to you learning the language and you’re mispronouncing some things?” 

“He?” You question, you’ve never known the gender of your soulmate, so with Jay using the male pronouns you were rightfully taken back.

“Yeah, he said hyung. That’s the honorific he used.” He responded. Once the professor confirmed that is in fact what your soulmate said, he resumed the class yet you barely paid attention. For as little as it was, you had something. A clue.

As the months passed, the outbursts became more and more common happening at least twice every other week. Fortunately, your Korean had improved enough for you to start translating your bursts on your own. Some of it was a bit difficult to understand as to what he was talking about as it varied from a bunch of things like fire being too hot, and leaves falling down. Other times it was stuff about body aches. 

Your classmate Jay had slowly become a blessing in your life when it came to further trying to understand your outbursts and your soulmate system in general. After your first outburst in class, he approached you and asked you a couple more questions about your system. He admittedly was interested in the many vast different types that existed and had never heard of yours before. He had offered his help on translating and thus your friendship began. 

The semester was finally drawing to a close and you had Jay over to help study for the Korean final when you had another burst about the army, something about purple, and food. If you were completely honest, you were getting fed up with it. “I’m honestly tired of it! Why the fuck does nothing he say make sense! I’m already learning another fucking language to understand whatever the fuck he’s talking about but what he says doesn’t make sense!” You shouted, completely frustrated with the entire situation. “I’m still completely clueless as to who my soulmate is! And he’s not giving me any hints!” 

Jay merely sat in silence as you sat back down, cooling down after your little meltdown. “Feel better after that?”

“Yes, a little bit.” You sighed, “Sorry you had to . . . witness that though.”

“No problem, honestly, I think you are being given hints they’re just too. . .vague to connect them.” He said in an attempt to reassure you. 

“You on his side or mine here?” You retorted, eliciting a chuckle from your friend. “I just. . .want to strangle him sometimes.”

“I would too, if I had your system. I got lucky though, I just doodle on my arm and it shows up on her arm.” He smiled proudly as he looked at his forearm. He really was lucky when it came to having a soulmate system. Jay had been able to quickly locate his soulmate within a matter of hours after his system made itself apparent. His soulmate, Jenna, lived in Canada and he had plans on flying over to meet her for Hanukkah. 

“Can we put a pin in this study session until tomorrow? After that, I’m exhausted and don’t think I can look at another sentence without getting angry at him.” You huffed as you leaned back on your couch.

“Yeah, final ain’t till next week. Call me if anything happens.” He assured you as he started collecting his things. 

Once he was gone, you pulled out your phone and opened twitter. You barely use it unless to check up on some random celebrities tweets or check random news stuff. Upon opening the trending page, the top trend catches your eye: 

JUNGKOOK SOULMATE

As someone with a weird soulmate system, you’re intrigued with what’s going on with this ‘Jungkook’. Upon opening the hashtag, you learned he is a sort of K-Pop idol, now you don’t know a lot about the music industry of the language of your soulmate so you decided to leave it, but before you close it you come across a video of said Jungkook from a livestream. He’s this cute guy that can’t be any older than you with brown hair that’s swept over his eyes and staring into the camera lovingly. He’s sitting in a hotel room and he’s just talking in Korean, and you vaguely understand what he’s talking about. He’s talking about his day, the food he’s tried lately, and addresses the viewers as ARMY. Then in the middle of a sentence about an interview he bursts out in full English “I’m still completely clueless as to who my soulmate is! And he’s not giving me any hints!” before he slapped his hands over his mouth and scrambled to the camera to end the livestream. 

Those were your words. He said your words.

He’s your soulmate?

You swipe more down the tag and you see a bunch of stuff about theories about what his system might be. You come across a thread of several times his voice was bleeped out in a bunch of videos, while fans assumed it was swearing they began theorizing it was his soulmate system and he didn’t want them to hear him talk about things that probably didn’t make any sense. 

That didn’t help you on your part. Now you only have one piece of evidence that proves he’s your soulmate. Exiting the app, you moved to google and see if you could find anything else about this Jungkook and low and behold, more photos of the cute guy from the video clip was there and you frantically called Jay. 

“I just left what’s up-”

“I found him.”

“You what? You found him?” Jay was astonished to say the least, especially since less than 10 minutes ago you were cursing him out over not knowing who he was.

“Either I found him or I’m having a nervous breakdown.” You chuckled nervously as you began pacing back and forth in your living room. 

“Okay, I’m coming back over.” You heard him turn and make his way back over to your apartment. “Who is he?”

“This sounds. . . completely insane but like. . he’s a K-Pop Idol named Jungkook, whoever the fuck he is, he’s my soulmate and I have no fucking idea how to get to him now.”

“Wait wait wait, slow down. Jeon Jungkook, of BTS, is your soulmate?” Jay inquired, “How did you find that out?”

“Well apparently the universe heard me complaining about not having a clue and went BAM ‘Here’s your clue’.” You still couldn’t believe this was real. Of all people that had to be your soulmate, he was it. You opened your mouth to speak again but instead of English, Korean toppled over your lips. One word that mainly stuck out was ‘I’m sorry’. “I think he’s in trouble. Fuck, I got him in trouble.” You hadn’t even met the guy and you were already causing problems for him. Or maybe this wasn’t new at all, maybe you’d gotten him in trouble before?

“Open the door, I’m outside.” You ran to the door and wrapped your arms around your friend. To say you were overwhelmed and scared, didn’t cover half of it. You knew who he was now, but now had no idea who you were and now you were clueless as to how you can even get to see him!

The next day and a half, instead of studying for your Korean final, you made it your business to find out anytime you could on Jungkook. As you watched some of the music videos, slowly more and more of what you’ve said in the past made sense. The weird sayings that you thought were completely random were song lyrics, the complaints about muscle pains made more sense when you saw how intense and hard they all danced. The “army” you constantly burst about was the fanbase they had, ARMY. You were given clues, you were just too stupid to use google once in a while. 

Meanwhile, your outbursts have gotten more and more frequent. Happening almost twice a day. You could almost feel Jungkook’s concern and fear behind his thoughts because apparently BigHit was really good at hiding their idols’ soulmate systems and with your one outburst you ruined it for him. 

ARMY slowly became a concern for you on your side because apparently a site of soulmate systems crashed because so many people were frantically searching for what his system might be. Once people found out about the rare thought trade system, almost daily you saw on Twitter of people claiming to be his soulmate. Those were easily debunked as the impostors were either too young to even get their soulmate system or the phrases they said in Korean were badly pronounced. Usually one of those two or they didn’t speak English fluently. That was the only clue ARMY had about their Golden Maknae’s soulmate, you spoke English. 

You thought quietly to yourself, trying to push a thought to Jungkook about being sorry about this happening and that you weren’t posting any videos on Twitter, because either way you wanted him to know you were you and not give him the wrong idea. You don’t know if he got the message until several hours later when you were getting out of the shower and in perfect English said, “I understand.” You smiled, happy he got the message and you were able to connect to him at least in some way. 

A full month after the “live burst” as ARMY dubbed it, you (and Jungkook) were able to decipher with the fact that you could only get each other's thoughts when you were extremely emotional, which explained the live situation. Sometimes if you thought really long and hard you could push the message across but that was usually hit or miss. It was currently winter break and Jay was currently on his way back from Canada when he called you. 

“Pack your bags.”

“Uh, nice to hear from you too, Jay. I’m doing great. Why should I pack my bags?” You rolled your eyes as his demand. 

“Because my dear YN, for Christmas I got you tickets to go see BTS on Jimmy Fallon-”

“You fucking what!? First of all that’s all the way in fucking New York City! Second of all, fucking wHAT?!” You screamed into the phone, a bit flinching seeing how you probably just got Jungkook to yell at the top of his lungs. 

“Listen to me, YN. This is crazy yeah, but it’s like, the only chance we can get for you two to meet. Hence why I got you a round trip ticket to New York. You’re welcome,” the smugness evident in his voice.

“Jay. . .I can’t believe you’d do this for me? All I got you was socks, you can’t just buy me a plane ticket!” 

“Jenna helped pay for it if it makes you feel better, we both want you to get your man. It’s our gift to you. Now go pack, the show is in two days and you leave tomorrow morning. We also got you a hotel ticket. You’re going to be there at least 5 days at least. Have fun!” 

Soon as the call ended, you felt like you were going to cry. Was this going to work? You had no idea. “New York City? You go?” You heard your voice speak.You quickly thought back a yes for him and scrambled to your room to pack. You threw together your best and nice clothes to wear at the show and as you were getting ready for bed you heard yourself say “See you maybe.” You smiled as you tucked yourself in, wanting to be asleep as soon as possible in order to leave.

You barely slept that night, to a degree was somewhat okay because you could always sleep on the plane. You left two hours before your flight with the information that Jay had forwarded to you, and soon enough you were seated outside your gate waiting for your flight to be called. Seconds seemed like hours as you waited, you just wanted to get to New York as soon as possible and see Jungkook. Live and in person, right in front of you. But then it came to you, Jungkook had no idea what you looked like. So you came up with a little plan for the opportunity to arise.

After you came up with a plan, you saw on your VLIVE app, after the live burst last time you decided to download the app to be sure you didn’t have another repeat, you would simply sit in silence as you watched your soulmate talk but after the outburst, it seems he was limited from going live. But he was allowed to go live with other members because there he was with Jimin, sitting and talking to ARMY. After a sudden lack of Jungkook, the chat was spammed with questions about his soulmate and his system but he avoided that entirely. You watched them as you waited for your flight to be called, they playfully bickered about some dumb little game they were playing. 

After nearly an hour, your flight was called and you decided to leave one message in the chat. ‘See you maybe.’ You watched for a few seconds as Jungkook scanned the chat. He saw his eyes light up a bit and open his mouth but before he said anything you had already closed the app. You couldn’t reopen it now as you were steps away from boarding your plane. You made your way to your seat and put your phone on airplane mode. The flight attendants went over the safety precautions but you didn’t hear a word they said for you were so close to Jungkook now.

Soon enough the plane took off and you put in your earbuds and played some of your already downloaded music, including some of BTS and more specifically Jungkook’s solo songs and covers. While you did love and appreciate the other members and their talent, you obviously had to be biased to your literal soulmate. His soothing voice lulled you to sleep and sure enough you slept the entire flight to New York City. 

Soon as you landed you made your way over to baggage claim and called an uber to your hotel. You were getting more and more antsy to the point you were giggling like a maniac. “You okay?” Your voice spoke up. Okay, maybe you were getting too excited by this. You laughed a bit and thought back that you were just excited. You unpacked your things and then decided to check through twitter, and of course, Jungkook was trending again. Clicking on it you see a clip of the live stream after you commented and left. Jungkook’s eyes lit up and he said “You too”, you chuckled and scrolled through and saw a bunch of people’s theories as to who his soulmate is and as his response to your comment was vague, no one pointed to you. 

After a few hours of mindlessly scrolling and watching videos, getting to know what these people thought of Jungkook. He was very important to these people and you couldn’t help but be a little scared because they automatically assumed a lot about idols’ personal lives and you were possibly going to be added to that equation. You felt your stomach grumble and you decided to make a quick stop at a McDonald’s as it was cheap and easy food. Belly full, you fell asleep and happy to possibly see your soulmate within 24 hours.

You woke up a bit early to get ready, the dress code was smart casual so you dressed as such, only messing with your physical appearance very little as you didn’t bring much with you in your rush to pack. Once you noticed the time, you were on your way to the studio and you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. After waiting for a few hours, you all filed into the audience and watched as the crew set up for filming. You couldn’t breathe as Jimmy stood in front and announced that BTS was here and you felt your heart stop when they came out. 

They all came out looking very cute in their current concepts style, and they all look ethereal. Then your eyes landed on Jungkook and all of time seemed to stop. He looked so cute and you couldn’t believe it. There he was. So close yet so far. Every fiber of your being, every atom yelled at you to get up from your seat and run to him but you couldn’t, that was the stupidest thing you could ever do. No, you had to stick to your plan. Hopefully it will work. They danced their way to their seats as the band played, then they all sat down around and on the couch. You couldn’t register anything that was going on, all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears. You watched them introduce themselves and you had to bite your tongue, because all you wanted to do was scream out to Jungkook that you were here. Just wait, you reminded yourself. Wait.

As they talked about their new music, you heard Jimmy ask about soulmates, more specifically Jungkook, with his system being exposed recently and if he found them. 

He shook his head no. “Still looking.” he shyly admitted as the nearest member, Jimin, patted his thigh. 

This was it. You shut your eyes and thought hard as possible trying to get him to hear you. Please please please. 

“It’s been difficult to find them as-” Namjoon started to explain when suddenly

“I’M HERE!” Jungkook blurted out, cutting him off. It worked! His eyes frantically searched the audience and suddenly a bunch of screaming people were claiming it was them, even people with the most obvious soulmate marks exposed on their bodies, desperate for the love of their bias.

“Wait, they’re here?!” Jimmy shouted over the growing screams of the crowd, Jungkook stood up and watched the crowd intently, unable to pin point you. 

Namjoon said something in Korean to Jungkook, encouraging the younger member to do something. Listening to him, Jungkook closed his eyes and the entire audience went quiet. Waiting for his soulmate to show themselves.

You felt the similar pull, the need to speak. Opening your mouth and standing as you let the words tumble out of your mouth in a shout, shrieking something about raw eggs and Jimin. As random as the saying was, Jungkook’s eyes locked with you and suddenly you felt your legs move without your permission. You frantically pushed past all the people sitting around you and you ran down the stairs to your soulmate. Your Jungkook. As he saw you run down the stairs, he ran to meet you halfway across the stage. You leapt into his open arms and you felt him spin you around as you held on for dear life. 

Soon as everything stopped spinning you could feel him cry into your shoulder. You pulled away to see his eyes starting to grow red from the amount of tears he let go. From that sight alone, you as well burst into tears. He pulled you back into the hug by your neck and you both openly wept into each other's arms. You felt the other members (and you think Jimmy as well), join in the hug as you all stood there. You heard Jimmy say they’re gonna have a quick break and you all were gestured to go backstage. You almost didn’t follow but Jungkook pulled you along, not letting go of you. 

Once in a back room, you were surrounded by the 7 members of the biggest boyband in the world, one of which was your soulmate and you honestly? You were a bit starstruck because while you had hoped that the plan would work, you didn’t think this far ahead. 

“So, uh, what’s your name?” Namjoon broke you out of your trance and you felt your face flush, looking to the ground a bit. 

“Uh, YN LN.” You said, continuing to stare at your toes.

“It’s perfect.” You heard Jungkook mutter as he pulled you into another hug from behind, burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

Jimin lightly scolded the maknae in Korean, saying something along the lines of something about the conversation, the interrupted interview, and 'schedule mess up'.

“Sorry about that, didn't really. . .think of that. . .” You lightly chuckled as you dragged your fingertips up and down Jungkook’s arms that were still wrapped around you. 

“Don’t apologize. I don’t care. I have my soulmate now. I have you.” Jungkook whispered into your ear. 

“We have to go back to the interview. JK, they’ll be here when you get back, right?” Namjoon’s turned to you, putting you on the spot. 

“Y-yes, of course.” You sputtered out, nodding your head. 

You could feel Jungkook pouting as he looked up to face his members. Talking really fast, you managed to understand a bit of what he was saying to them. Asking them about missing the rest of the interview and something about Jin and his soulmate. A few of them went back and forth about whether or not it would be good with Jimmy or the staff. But it was when Hoseok spoke out that the other members agreed, Namjoon only sighed in response. Telling Jungkook he’d be excused from the rest of the schedule today. He then told him to get out of the outfit and get back into his normal clothes and take one of the cars back to their hotel. Jungkook agreed almost immediately as the rest of the members filled out of the room, leaving you and your soulmate alone for the first time.

“This why you excited for New York City? You seeing me?” Jungkook asked as he turned you to face him, you nodded. He laughed lightly. “You really surprised me, and you kept me on my toes the past two years.” Oh shit, he’s been voicing your thoughts way before you even started it because he’s two years older than you.

“Oh shit- I’m, I’m so sorry!” You laughed, you can’t imagine all the weird thoughts he got and not to mention in English so he was probably just as confused as you were. 

“It made concerts difficult, but motivated me to learn English better.” He teased. He placed his hand on your face and you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. He whispered a small plea. “Please don't let this be a dream.”

“It’s not. This is real.” You whispered back, opening your eyes and looking into his.

“Good, because then I can do this.” He gently pulled your face closer to his and met you halfway with a kiss. You’ll admit, you’ve never kissed anyone before but with Jungkook it all felt right. Granted it was a short and brief kiss, but you felt the emotion behind it all. He pulled away first and just looked at you. You could definitely see what all those comments were talking about with them saying Jungkook has the entire galaxy in his eyes. “I need to change now. Be right back?”

“I’ll be here.”

[black-streak]

Saturday night's alright for fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - In which a date is Had

Part 5

Aaaaand back to your regular scheduled fluff (though there is a tiny touch of angst here that you can miss if you blink too long) I really need to find a way to connect these, but I also refuse to leave mobile... Oh! And I have people to tag now? Sooo, here you go, @poshplumcot & @emjrabbitwolf

~---~

The almost run in with Red Hood the night before had Marinette on edge. She slept for only a few scant hours before waking in the morning hyper aware of her surroundings; skirting corners and slinking about her apartment, ready to bolt should the need arise.

In hindsight, the vigilance only added to her anxiety, lending itself to her in the form of launching bodily away from her phone when it buzzed without her permission.

How dare it! Didn't it know better than to startle her? 

Peering over the edge of a half wall, she glared at the offending object only for it to light up and buzz again! How rude! 

Picking her way over to it, she held it by a corner and tapped the screen to find two messages from "Mon Somnambule". Perking up and opening the chat it read, 'What time should I expect you over?' and then, 'youre still coming, right?'

Scrambling to answer, Mari quickly typed a reassurance and asked if he had a preference in time as her schedule was cleared for the day.

'Somehow free as well. Come by round 2? Or could pick you up. Have a movie marathon.' He texted back.

Checking the time and nodding to herself, she sent an affirmation and let Tim know she'd be fine getting there on her own.

Now for the real question: what does one wear to a lazy Sunday movie marathon that is also technically a first date? 

Walking into her room, she saw the decision had been taken out of her hands, two blurs of kwami rampaging the walk in closet.

"Plagg! Trixx! Get out of there!"

The orange blur stopped, then suddenly popped up into her space, "Guess I won't tell you what we put together then. Tragic really, probably forgot all about it in the back there. Oh well, if the Kit doesn't want help… come on Plagg, let's leave her to it." Trixx drew out, exaggerated movements and mournful sighs as he moved away, Plagg snickering from where he waited back in the closet.

Deadpanning at the little fox, Mari moved towards where they had been, only to light up and gasp upon finding the blood red hooded dress, complete with long sleeves and asymmetrical hemline. Pulling it out, she set it on the bed with black sweater boots and a thin black choker with gold swirls she grabbed off her necklace rack.

"You win this round. It's in his colors too!" 

"Well he did say you were his, yes?" Trixx teased.

"Perhaps you shouldnt wear that after all," Plagg growled.

"Oh hush, I know you approve, whether you admit it or not." Marinette scoffed, leaving to take a quick shower.

….

At 2 o'clock on the dot, Tim lost his filter.

"You're on time."

"Should I not be?"

"You're never on time."

" I can leave and come back in 10 if you prefer?"

"No no, come in. Sorry, just taken by surprise is all." 

It was then that he took a moment to take her in as she went past him, door closing and locking behind her. Only to find her studying him too.

"Gray sweats and a pale blue t-shirt. Any particular reason for that?"

"No clue what you're talking about," he stated flippantly, taking hold of her hand as he sidled past her. "Did you have something in mind you wanted to watch?"

"Hmm… Harry Potter?"

"...which?"

"You did mention a marathon, right?"

"Even I know watching 8 movies in a row isn't healthy. Alfred will sense our bad decisions and hunt us down for even trying."

"No, of course not, but we could watch a few today and watch the rest later?" She hinted, looking around to take in the living space, having never been here before.

"You haven't even survived this date yet and you're asking for another?"

"Is that okay?" She peeked up at him, blushing.

"I mean, yeah, but it's your own fault if you come to regret it."

"I won't," she intoned, turning to look about once more, "should we set up in the living room," she asked before he could respond.

Within a few minutes, they were ready, snacks and drinks laid before them with the first movie queued up, speakers blaring the opening lines of Hedwig's theme, nostalgic notes swirling around them and yet they sat perfectly still, a foot apart.

She broke the silence first, "Why does this feel so much different?"

"...How do you mean?"

"We've fallen asleep together in your bed before and yet here we are, a foot apart and avoiding eye contact on the premise of watching a movie we've both probably seen at least a dozen times."

"Different context. Our naps are something started with no expectations or labels. Now it's been labeled a date, that freedom is lost."

"... That's stupid."

"Completely unreasonable."

"Idiotic, flawed logic."

"Couldn't agree more."

 They sat in silence another few minutes.

"We still haven't done anything about it."

"I know."

"Hnph."

Swallowing down his anxious energy, Tim turnt and took her hand that lay furthest from him, guiding it over and past his shoulder, resulting in her torso twisting and stretching out to lay across his. Only he completely miscalculated in his distracted state and ended up bumping heads with her, which in turn made her jump back, arm still at his shoulder, yanking him forward. They fell completely off balance and landed on the opposite side of the couch, him lying atop her small frame.

Freezing in place, wide eyed, Tim was unsure how to recover when a small giggle came from above. Which then turned into a full bellied laugh. Cautiously, he lifted himself up off her only to watch her eyes spring tears of mirth as she tried to catch her breath.

"I guess that's one way to break the tension!"

Letting out a whoosh of air, he slumped back down on her in relief.

"Hey! Don't crush me!" She gasped, squirming under him.

"I know for a fact you can handle more weight than this."

"You know nothing!"

"I know many things."

Shifting, he landed beside her, turning towards the movie and manipulating Mari around till her back pressed into his chest, "Better?"

"Much," she murmured, tilting back to brush a kiss across his jaw before returning to watching the movie.

…

"How does this whole mother's love thing work? By blood? That makes no sense! Petunia obviously doesn't love him, so shouldn't that cancel it out somehow? I think Rowling was off her rocker when she decided this."

"Or it was just an excuse to keep him in his state of being the abused tragic character."

"What if that whole thing was a lie? Wasn't Dumbledore grooming him for suicide or something? Probably wanted to keep him under such horrible circumstances to reaffirm his love for Hogwarts and desire to return even after his life was threatened all those times."

"And this is the gay representation she wants to give us? Sounds homophobic to me. Let Seamus and Dean love each other, damnit!"

"And Ginny and Luna!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not?" 

"... You're right, let them date too! And make Harry Bi, you pansy!" 

…

They ended up taking a break between the first and second movie, taking the time to order delivery, get new drinks, use the bathroom, etc., before returning to the couch, Tim spooning Marinette once again.

"Are you okay?" He asked, softening his tone.

"Yeah, why?"

"You slipped up last night. I could see your eyes in the last few moments there."

"Is that why you're wearing blue and gray?" She teased, deflecting.

He blushed, but remained undeterred, "Lutine."

"... I didn't slip up."

"You never let yourself be seen. What changed?"

"You."

"..."

"I want you to know me. Especially if we're going to be continuing this. I've tried dating with a secret identity. It never works out. I know you on both sides, observed you without letting you return the favor. I want to change that." 

She laced their fingers, lifting to press a kiss to his wrist, eyes closed.

He stayed quiet, observing her now, vulnerable and fragile, waiting upon his judgement.

"Were you planning to reveal yourself?"

A small nod.

"But then Jason showed up?"

Another nod.

"And you still won't tell him? He's going to be fine with it, you know."

"Soon. It didn't feel right to come out of hiding to you both at the same time like that."

They fell silent, taking everything in, only to jump at the doorbell. Rushing up, Marinette went to answer it, returning and pulling out boxes of Chinese before setting up the second movie. As it started, they let it drop for now, touching from shoulder to hip where her leg deviated to wrap around his, reassuring each other that they were okay.

…

"Can we just talk about Lockhart though? He is such a little manipulative jerk! He wanted to leave them in the chamber! A bunch of 11 and 12 year olds! Who does that?!" 

"Literally any DADA professor Dumbly door decides to hire, apparently. And what's with the reliance of these adults on children to save their skins? Is that what boarding school is all about? Letting children raise themselves?"

"I'm so sick of these God awful adults pushing all of their responsibilities and mistakes on to literal kids to fix and take care of. He can barely take care of himself and you want him to save everyone? Just like that? With no help or guidance, just, 'here you go kid, lack of support for breakfast, negligence of supposedly trusted adults for lunch, an emotional breakdown for dinner, and a punctured lung for dessert!"

"... You want to talk about it?"

"Not really…"

"Okay."

…

By the end of the second movie, the sky had darkened considerably, having taken quite a while to start up any of them, it was now past eight, still early for them, but late enough to bring a different atmosphere, hushed and intimate between them.

"You look good in red."

"Oh?"

"Mm," Tim hummed, nudging the choker round her neck with his nose, "I like this little detail here too."

Goosebumps raising where skin met, she twisted to face him, lips ghosting over to his ear.

"It reminded me of you."

Faster than she could react, she felt a hand holding her face in place as lips descended upon her own, insistent and sure footed. 

Mari desperately wanted to return the passion, to push into him and give as good as she got, but all she could do was melt in his embrace, unreasonably warm at how assertive it felt.

Pulling back for air, he watched her gasp, enjoying the flush to her skin and glaze to her eyes.

"Did you still want to watch the third movie?"

"... Yeah. Couch is getting a bit uncomfortable though."

"We could relocate."

"Please?"

… 

At some point after having borrowed a spare toothbrush, washed her face, settled into Tim's bed- which was somehow different to being in the one at the manor- and starting the last movie, they had stopped paying attention and started focusing on each other. Passionate kisses turned into making out turned into soft brushes of lips over skin and finally settled into curling up around each other to sleep.

Tomorrow they would return to their hectic lives of running a company and finishing commissions for high profile clientele along with running around at night protecting a city that refused to protect itself, but for now, it was just them. Just this one peaceful night, wrapped in each other's arms.

[boomerang109]

*looks at my fic, which hasn’t been updated in 4 weeks (other than edits because i Didn’t Like It) and i’ve now driven myself into a horrible writers block immediately after outlining the entire thing possibly because i have outlined the entire thing and i forgot where i was going with this but am i sending it anyway yes i am please god tell me to write someone threw my motivation out the window and it’s all muddy now and i don wanna touch it oh god what even is that metaphor see what i mean about the writers block anyway ily cant wait for the next chapter of wwda get it out when you can don’t stress ily bye*

don’t tell me why my brain is like “yes we can answer this but we’ll combust if we look at any messages.” there’s no logic but i’ll get around to your messages and everyone else’s there. (to everyone waiting for like two sentence answers who’s seeing me post paragraphs, i’m sorry. the braincell does not function)

the way that i’m in YES! i can help! mode even tho i myself am lowkey in writer’s block which means i’m not qualified at all ajfhjghfgfdjghj

first of all: outlines are just to guide you. they stress me the fuck out too (which is why i’ve refused to put my wwda outline to paper, despite the fact that this means the timeline is absolutely fucked. like it’s in my brain, but if i put it on paper i’ll try to stick to it and i’ll freak out--see my month long break when i had an “outline” for chapter four). you can have goals for chapters (ie, lay groundwork for foreshadowing/character development/etc) but overall? just let yourself sit in front of the computer and vibe. don’t think about where you’re going, just think about where you are. 

“i don wanna touch it oh god what even is that metaphor see what i mean about the writers block“ this? this is you judging yourself while you write and i don’t want to see ANY of that shit. writing is a process and editing is a thing, but when you’re doing your first draft you just gotta word vomit. sorry that’s a gross phrase but that’s what i do. and honestly? most of wwda is barely pieced together word vomit. idek why anyone likes it, but they do. and even if they didn’t--nothing would exist if you don’t put something to paper to start with.

apparently this advice doesn’t apply to everyone (i still can’t process @hella1975 ‘s writing technique like what the actual fuck) but for me one of the big things with writer’s block is starting where i want to start and just writing whatever fucking scenes i want. idk if that makes sense so i’ll put it into the context of wwda. so when i was still in my fucking intensive class i wasn’t writing cause i didn’t have time except for like a few minutes before bed at like 3am. now at 3am i’m not gonna write suki and azula being rivals cause i can barely handle that dynamic when i’m Focused. but at 3am i’m sad as fuck and i generally like to peruse the ao3 dadkoda tag, so instead i just wrote my own dadkoda scenes for much later (although they’re not actually that far off) in the fic. are they gonna need some editing cause i was just like ‘maximum angst even tho this scene is supposed to be about healing’? yes. yes i was. now the other day on the plane (when i really should’ve been working on an essay i didn’t end up finishing) i was like okay, i need to work on something actually relevant to chapter 12. but i’ve worked myself into a corner with my azula & iroh scene so i didn’t want to deal with that bullshit on two hours of sleep and also being called “miss” and other female terms in the airport got me all in the gender feels so i was like oh! i’ll write some more enby aang! and i wrote this like gorgeous passage or two on aang’s gender feels. and yeah, it probably makes no sense for aang cause i wrote it from a pov that was too much me and not enough aang, but the point still remains. i skipped to a part of the chapter that was important to me. and then i realized that aang could be having these thoughts in the context of another scene which led to . . . and there i was with somewhat of a complete thought for the chapter. 

also along those lines, if you’re having writer’s block you gotta look at that block. what’s wrong? is there something wrong with the story up to this point? is there something you don’t like about where you’re going? is there something you really want to write that you’re not letting yourself write? 

cause the thing is, we’re not professional authors. we’re fic writers. we do this for fun cause we love the characters. so if you’re not loving the characters for some reason, you shouldn’t force yourself. take the pressure off yourself. this fandom is so supportive, they’re not going to rush you (literally look at the fact that even as you say you’re excited for wwda you also tell me not to stress) and remember to apply that to yourself. it’s okay to need a break, whether that’s cause the vibes are off or cause you’re tired or any other reason. 

i tried to write a bunch of different thoughts cause i know different things work for different people, i hope at least one of these ideas help. i literally haven’t looked at wwda even though i really want to be writing (and i still haven’t been reading fic). sometimes our brains just don’t cooperate. and yeah, i could sit here and yell at myself and go “what the fuck boom you’ve been looking forward to writing for literal weeks and now you have time and you’re doing other stuff what is wrong with you” and sometimes it’s really tempting to give into that. but the truth is i don’t usually do as much work as i did the past few weeks on as little sleep as i got so i’m really fucking tired. and so i’m giving myself a break. and i’m just not emotionally prepared to read fic cause--oh oops i hadn’t admitted to myself until right this second that i was avoiding fic cause i’m suppressing my feelings that kinda hurt wtf this wasn’t supposed to become therapy hour wtf. but as dumb as all that feels to put, i’m not gonna delete it cause i’m sure you’re gonna read it and say something along the lines of “it’s okay to rest and wait to read/write if that’s what you need!” cause you’re a nice person. so say those things to yourself IF that’s what you need. but if you’ve been sitting in bed for weeks and don’t have any reason not to write, maybe it’s time to word vomit. or if you have a problem with your story maybe you should look at that. just, do whatever works for you but be gentle with yourself. give yourself the same kindness you give others. whenever i’m not sure how to handle something (or how to treat myself ig), i’ll ask myself how i would give advice to a friend. so maybe try that. look at yourself, your writing process, your fic like it’s a friend’s and be like hmm. what would i recommend my friend do? and if weird rambley advice that probably displays my many years of therapy is helpful to you, then know my inbox (and my messages that i swear i’ll answer some day) are always open. i’m not gonna read this over cause i know if i do i’ll be too embarrassed to post so i’m just hoping it’s helpful. much love <3

[scone-lover]

First Line Tag Game

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories. (If you have less than 20, just list them all!) See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line.

Thanks for the tags @captain-aralias @aristocratic-otter! ❤️ 

Secretly, I prefer this to last lines. I think the first line tends to set the mood and the scene for a fic - but at the same time, it’s a lot less pressure than the last one. Probably because posting Last Lines with no context made them all seem so lame, whereas first lines are always delivered without prior context. They’re below the cut! ❤️ 

Tagging @otherworldsivelivedin @annabellelux @thehoneyedhufflepuff @pipsqueakparker @ninemagicks @twokisses @caitybuglove23 @stillmadaboutpetra @banjjakbanjjak @arca9 @amywaterwings @krisrix @im-gettingby @waywardfangirl @laeve-leve @omgcmere​

1. Simon [21:38]: hey agatha Simon [21:38]: wanna go to a gay bar with me - The Gay Bar

2. Sometimes, life here feels like a series of in-betweens. - Northern Downpour

3. I’m at an Irish pub.  - Bangers & Smash

4. I tug at my scrunchy trousers, trying to get comfortable. “I don’t remember you mentioning me having to wear a dress,” I grumble.  - Dancing Lights

5. I think it’s more than being a little into cryptozoology. I mean, Mothman’s got me on my knees, pushed against a tree with my pants down to my ankles, so really— cryptozoology is about to be into me.  - Cryptozoology 101

6. I look up when I hear the front door slam shut. It’s Baz, of course. - Miniature Fights and Lego Plights

7. Simon Snow looks stunning in a grey kurta. - Ladoos, Lights, and Aunty Frights

8. Penny, Simon and I are sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying our tea, when Shepard rushes into the room. He claps his hands together and begins speaking in a voice far too loud for this hour of the morning. “Alright, team!” he says. - The Corn COBB 🌽

9. Magickal Life Skills class is the worst part of my Monday morning. - Raising a Demon 😈

10. This is the fifth night in a row. It’s not the same every night. - Simon Snow and the Mystery Scones

11. EPISODE ONE: CAKE WEEK [Bird’s-eye view of a large park. The CAMERA zooms in on TWO WOMEN in full battle gear.] - The Great Watford Bake Off

12. “So I’ll spin around,” I say, practicing the motion, “and kick you… here. ” I raise my leg in slow motion and plant my foot onto Baz’s chest, showing him the spot. - Dirty Revenge

13. August 2010, Penny “Don’t forget Raksha Bandhan is next Tuesday,” Mum says. She’s paging through her calendar, a pen caught between her teeth.  - For Always

14. I’m at the supermarket with a trolley full of the week’s things when I spot a sign stuck to the glass in the refrigerated aisle. BUTTER - ON SALE NOW! - 5 Times They Weren't Out of Butter

15. Baz is leading warm-ups when I get to swim practice. He’s got everyone standing in a circle, stretching their arms overhead, and he glares at me when I walk into the building. - Personal Best

16. Baz is coming over for the weekend, and it’s the first time we have the flat to ourselves—Penny has kindly decided to vacate the premises for a couple days.  - La Petite Mort

17. “3… 2… 1… and, live.” “Hi everyone, it’s your favorite reporter again, Shep, and boy has it been a week! Am I right, or am I right? Okay, so I’m sure by now you have all heard that there’s been some action in the city. Let’s roll the clip.” - Holding Out For A Hero

18. I love Watford. Blade loves Watford. And I wonder for the umpteenth time, why are we even fighting? - Tipping Point

19. I’m trying to get some work done (for once) when Snow comes out of the shower.  - Goblins, Among Others

That’s all my Carry On fic (minus Moments from Watford Bakery, since it’s like 4 ficlets in one), so I’ll share the first line from a WIP! Here’s the intro of my Villains fic for crack fest, which I’ll be posting in the next couple days.

20. [Shep POV] I like walking home from work when the weather’s not too bad. I’ve always loved people-watching, and there’s a lot to see in The City—the lights, the sights… and of course the massive screens currently broadcasting the face of the dread supervillain Pitch.

~~~

Hmm, patterns... I think a lot of these tend to be straightforward, just like bare-bones setting the scene. A little boring, but points for clarity, I guess? I’ve noticed that I like jumping straight into the middle of a scene, though -- the only one I’ve had more of an “intro” style opening on is Northern Downpour, where I start with that little vignette. I wrote that as a warm-up, actually, and then figured I’d throw it in since I really thought it set the mood for the fic. I also see a pattern of “I’m doing ___ when _____ happens” ... so maybe I’ll try to branch out of that habit a bit. 😂 

I wish I could choose a different favorite, but you all know... it has to be Cryptozoology 101. 😂That is the cleverest shit I’ve ever written. Best opening line, hands down. 😂 I genuinely love the Holding Out For a Hero opening too, it was really fun leaning into the multimedia aspect with the news in that fic. Coincidence that both of those include Shep? I think not.

Taking a look at my other WIPs, they really do follow the same pattern of horribly straightforward opening lines... Here are some of the more completed ones, in order of my plans to post.

Cursed, a Shepard from Omaha Adventure: The demon summoning didn’t work.

Monster Under the Bed Fest fic: “Spell, we need a spell…” Penny’s muttering. She thumbs through a yellowed book, then points her ring at it. “Fine-toothed comb: Sirens!”

Florence fic: For some absurd reason, my friends in Italy call me Basil.

COBB: “Idiot,” I mutter to myself.

Agatha fic: When my feet hit the ground in San Diego, I just feel relief.

[lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean]

La Pomme ~ Chapter 16

Pairing: Sam x OC (eventual Dean x OC and Dean x Castiel. And I mean eventual.)

Series summary: George is a casual French-Mistake-universe Supernatural fan living in no-COVID 2020, who's life is upended when she's suddenly launched between realities, two years into the boys' past (S13E22). What begins as an insane, immersive fan experience turns into more when Jack goes missing and George offers up her AU information to help track him down. Soon it's discovered that she and Sam may actually have history. But that's impossible, right?

Word Count:5,800

Warnings: {smut, fluff, angst, show level violence, swearing, mentions of suicide} ***Detailed warnings will be tagged for specific chapters.

A/N: Following the events of my prequel Paradise and second story From My Eyes Off. Reading those first gives context but isn’t necessary to start this one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

George was alone with Jack for the next few hours while the brothers set about the tasks of clean up, house warding, and hopefully some rest of their own. She was the perfect person to take first watch, considering every time she closed her eyes she saw Jack’s bloody, near lifeless body behind her lids. Staying with him gave her a reason to keep her eyes open and she figured the more she could see him looking distinctly alive, the better. Every once in a while she’d take his hand in hers and squeeze tightly, thinking ‘happy thoughts.’ Considering her recent angelic kidnapping, she refused to call it prayer; instead she tried to imagine sending healing energy through her hands to him.

Just as the sun began sneaking a ray or two into the room through the half open blinds, George spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. It startled her at first, thinking the psychotic angel was back. She relaxed when it was only Dean.

“Morning,” She said quietly. She watched him hold a mug up to his lips and take a careful sip before acknowledging her.

“Morning,” He mimicked, stepping into the room. “Your Aunt serves decent coffee.”

“‘Decent’? Don’t let her hear you say that,” She warned with a tired smile.

Dean gave her a once over and then motioned for her to get up, “OK, shift change. Time for you to get some rest.”

“Dean, I’m fine--”

“I’m sure you're fine as a frog’s hair, but you still need sleep, young lady.” Came Lorna’s stern voice from the doorway. She was holding a plate of fresh baked mango scones that made Dean's mouth water. Lorna held the plate out to him and he took two, then eyed the plate longingly. “Go ahead. I have another batch on the counter and two more in the oven. And if the coffee’s not weak enough for you, there’s a Starbucks in Gibbousville,” She informed him in a stern voice, a smirk on her face. Dean glanced at George, who’s expression clearly said ‘toldja so,’ and then sheepishly took a third scone with a happy, quiet mumble of thanks.

There was only one scone left on the plate and Lorna handed it to George, “You’ve been awake since I stitched you up. Take this to the garage and get some shut eye. I’ll feed this one before I go to work and he can keep watch while you rest.” George looked between the two of them. Despite the crumbs stuck to Dean's chin, the serious expressions on their faces told her she wasn’t going to win any arguments about it. Giving Jack’s hand one last tight squeeze, she got up, took the plate with a defiant ‘thank you,’ and left the room.

The converted garage apartment consisted of one 15’ x 30’ living room-kitchen combo area with an attached bathroom and shower downstairs. At the top of the stairs was a long, narrow bedroom that had just enough room for one queen and one full mattress, placed on opposite sides of the room and a small nightstand for the queen bed. The room was cramped, with slanted ceilings so severe that neither brother could stand up fully in there other than one four inch horizontal line down the middle.

George entered the cottage and placed the plate of scone on the counter. Splitting it in two, she left one half on the plate and took a bite of the other. Unsurprisingly it was delicious and fluffy. Her aunt had always been a whiz in the kitchen; it was comforting that her alt-aunt was too. Glancing around, she saw her Target bags sitting on the leather loveseat across the room and walked over to them. She debated her options, then closed her eyes for a moment, just to see. The image of Jack’s lifeless body was murkier now, but the face of her angel tormentor was too realistic to handle. She opened her eyes again quickly, glanced around to make sure she was alone, then grabbed her toiletries.

Shower first, it is.

After brushing the blood from her teeth thrice, she carefully scrubbed her grimey skin, limited a bit by her injuries. The pain meds had worked well but she could feel a deep soreness on her side when she tried to reach certain spots. She stayed under the warmth of the water for a long time, avoiding the inevitable. Sleep was definitely going to require her eyes to be closed, but she couldn’t shake the traumatic images. She’d even attempted to calm her nerves with a few fingers but couldn’t concentrate. As she turned off the water, she hoped at least that the sun had risen high enough to chase away the darkness and maybe her fears along with it.

She wrapped her long wet hair into a towel, and began drying off. Then looked around for her clothes and realized she hadn’t brought any in with her; everything was still out on the loveseat. With a tired curse, she wrapped the damp towel around herself and peeked out to make sure the coast was clear before exiting into the living area.

Across the room, kitty-corner to the bathroom, was a modest sitting area with a loveseat and matching oversized chair positioned in front of a small redwood coffee table and fireplace. When she got to her clothes, she dropped the towel to the ground without even thinking and reached into the bag for some fresh white underwear and a black sleeveless undershirt. With her injuries, it was a bit of a struggle to get them on, but she managed it slowly.

Just as she was about to search in the bag for her pajama pants, she heard a distinct creaking sound and her head snapped toward the staircase. Knowing there was no way she’d be able to get the pants on fast enough, she reached down for the towel. The only thing she’d had time to do was grip it before Sam appeared at the bottom of the stairs five seconds later.

“Sam--” She sputtered apologetically with a start when she saw him frozen there, dressed in a casual long sleeved grey v-neck and black pajama pants. There was still sleep on his face, but he was quickly waking up, looking very surprised to see her in such a state of undress.

The second she laid eyes on him, she felt her whole body relax. She almost laughed in disbelief, considering normally she would have been falling all over herself to cover up and apologize. Whether because of the insane dream connection (which she still hadn’t fully processed) or just the past few weeks getting to know him, his mere presence made her feel safe. Safe enough that she didn’t need to say sorry. Safe enough that pants were optional. Even safe enough to close her eyes and take a deep, calming breath when she saw nothing but inky blackness behind them.

“Georgia?” Came a quiet rasp. He’d been worried about her since the rescue but, there’d been so many things to do, he hadn’t found a good time to talk to her yet. After helping to get Jack stabilized, he and Dean carefully and discreetly painted warding around the property to prevent the angels from tracking them. Then began the clean up.

Once that was all finished, he’d stopped by Jack’s room to check on her, but noticed she was talking outloud to him. Not wanting to interrupt, he’d decided to clean himself up with a shower before another attempt. His final barrier had been Dean, who literally wouldn’t leave him alone until he got some rest. He knew telling him to chill out because he needed to go talk to ‘the woman of his dreams’ wasn’t going to be a conversation ender for his brother. Just trying to wait the man out, he had accidentally fallen asleep.

Seeing her now, though, he realized just how nervous he was to be alone with her. It certainly wasn’t like he’d been trying to avoid having life-altering conversations with her by finding important busy work to do, but he couldn't deny that a tiny part of him was scared. She was still from an alternate universe and now that they had found Jack, they were supposed to send her back. So what if he’d dreamt about her and she kinda seemed to be aware of it too? So what if that fact indicated she may have had the same dream and the two of them have a decade old shared memory across alternate realities, hmm? What did that even mean? Did it even really change anything? She still had to go back to her world, right?

Considering he didn’t yet know how to answer any of that for himself, he instead started with, “How are you?”

Hearing the concern in his voice, her eyes opened and she smiled gratefully at him. Momentarily appreciating the messy morning hair and beard, she felt the stirrings of something primal and almost considered revisiting her earlier solo shower work. Instead, though, she figured she’d ask him to stay with her just until she could fall asleep.

“Tired,” She answered before dropping the towel and walking over to him. She slowly took his hand and led him back up the stairs to the bedroom. He wasn’t exactly sure what was happening but he knew he’d follow her anywhere. He allowed her to guide him back up, trying not to stare at her barely covered behind on the way.

Since their conversation in the car, Sam very clearly saw the young blonde bride he met in his dream whenever he looked at her (any of her). He was dumbfounded it took him this long to see it; he thought he had that woman’s face seared into his memory. His only explanation was that he’d successfully been able to convince himself that the dream hadn’t been real all those years ago. Therefore, it didn’t occur to him that a real woman he’d never met, from a universe he’d only been in once, could be the same person from a fake dream. Whatever the reason, he saw it now and it caused him to ache with curiosity and desire.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she realized she hadn’t actually asked him to stay and turned back around, causing him to stop as well. He was a few steps down, so they were eye-level and George could see the desire very clearly in his bright hazel eyes. The primal urges she’d placated downstairs took over; leaning forward she placed a soft, desperate kiss on his lips.

When their lips touched, she panicked for a split second about her impulsivity. Then she immediately felt his hands on her waist and she was filled with exquisite peace. Able to close her eyes untroubled for the first time in hours, she sunk into him.

Sam was so startled by the kiss that he grabbed her sides, holding on tight. Once the reality of what was happening registered, he responded enthusiastically. From his dream he remembered her taste, the way she felt in his arms, and her silky soft lips but the reality of it was unbelievable. His senses were overloading; she felt familiar and new all at the same time. It was electrifying and so consuming that all his doubts about what was happening were forgotten.

Frustrated that she couldn’t kiss him any harder without her lip protesting, she pulled back. He gripped her tighter instinctively. With a smile, she reached up and grabbed his hands, prying them off her body.

Taking a few steps backward into the room, she tugged at them, inviting, “Stay?” His mind was in a fog of stunned yearning and it rooted him to his spot. Noticing his hesitation, she squeezed his hands and pleaded softly, “Just until I fall asleep? We don’t have to do anything.”

He pulled his hands from her grip slowly, then climbed the last of the steps and stood tall over her. One hand slid into her hair, the other wrapped around her waist, pulling her back to his lips for a slow, lingering kiss. Gently and carefully, so as not to hit either of their heads against the very low and steeply angled attic roof, he guided her backwards to the larger of the two beds. Stopping her just before they reached the mattress by squeezing her against him. He’d meant to stop kissing her long enough to make sure exactly what she wanted to do, but her tongue was very distracting. Then her hands moved to softly touch the scruff of his cheeks and he melted, tumbling farther away from being able to stop kissing her.

Suddenly she ripped away from him and her forehead dropped to his chest silently. Looking down at her in confusion, wondering if he’d hurt her or she’d changed her mind, he noticed a sharp inhale of breath. When she lifted her head again her eyes were a bit watered and he realized how tired she really was.

With a smirk, he inquired, “Georgia, were you hiding a yawn from me?” Avoiding eye contact she shook her head, keeping her lips pressed together. The smirk turned into an amused smile and Sam loosened his grip on her, placing a tender kiss on her forehead.

“Bed,” He ordered softly, noticing the shiver that ran through her. Shaking her head in protest George reached up and grabbed at the collar of his shirt, pulling him down towards her. He chuckled and grabbed hold of her hands to stop her. With a charming smile he rubbed his nose against hers, bringing his lips near her tauntingly, “I’ll keep going if you can tell me how much you want me.”

Her eyes rolled back in her head and she hesitated, trying to lift herself up to his lips without him noticing.

Squeezing her eyes closed tight in hope, “I wan--” was all she got out before another yawn hit her. She wasn’t fast enough to hide this one. Why was her brain betraying her body like this?

Sam gave her another sweet but chaste kiss as a consolation prize before letting go, hunching over, and carefully maneuvering around the left side of bed. She turned her body around to follow him with a depressed slouch. The covers and pillows were disturbed and she assumed that’s where he’d been sleeping before coming downstairs. He gave the pillows a quick fluff and folded the blanket back.

To her pleasant surprise, he climbed in first. Once he was situated comfortably up against the headboard, his left arm stretched out on the empty pillow next to him, he looked at her expectantly. She straightened up from her slouch in surprise; too elated to move.

Grinning wide, she finally murmured, “Are you for real, Sam Winchester?”

With a small smile, he assured, “C’mon. Bed,” He ordered again, beckoning her with his hand. Finally her muscles moved and she climbed in next to him. Laying against him as the little spoon, she rested her head half on his shoulder, half on the pillow. Once he pulled the covers up over them both, his arms wrapped around her. He lifted one hand up, stroking her hair, and rested the other hand just below her underwear on the naked skin of her hip. Squeezing her close, he nuzzled her neck and placed a few kisses on her soft skin.

Her fresh, clean scent was intoxicating. He should have stopped kissing her; he knew she needed sleep, he could see it all over her face. Yet, having her this close after all this time was nearly making him burst; he couldn’t help himself. Glancing up, he saw her hardening nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt and knew it was too late.

Goosebumps appeared on her skin shortly thereafter and she teased, squirming a bit, “Hey buddy, I can’t sleep if my libido can’t sleep.” She’d expected him to stop instantly.

Instead, she heard, “Do you want me to stop?” murmured genuinely in her ear and felt his hand freeze in its movement from her hip down toward her thigh. With a surprised shudder, that primal instinct roared awake once more.

“Hell no,” She purred, shifting her hips so her butt was flat on the bed. When she spread the leg he wasn’t gripping, her movement caused his fingers to brush against her fabric covered core. They both groaned. Tossing her head back and to the side, she begged, “Touch me!” Before reaching up to grab the back of his head and pull him down for another hungry kiss, lip injury be damned.

He responded eagerly. His hand slipped under the fabric and he played her like a soft, warm instrument he hadn’t picked up in years, but never forgot. Every sound his movements elicited, reminded him what to do next to please her. There were also new and exciting things he hadn’t expected, like the metal jewelry he could feel surrounding her nipples while his fingers toyed with them under her shirt. The moment he felt them, he smirked, realizing then how she’d known the pierced librarian would be interested in seeing them. His head filled with ideas about what they might look like, but he couldn’t see them in the dimness of the bedroom. He worked her through two quick releases before she passed out, satisfied, in his arms. __________________________________________

George was back in the bar where she'd first met Sam. Her wedding dress was on and her hair was purple, just like the dream. Sitting next to her in the booth, Sam’s face was ten years younger and smooth as a baby’s bottom. His eyes were the same, though; an ocean of deep pain and loss and they distracted her from whatever he was saying.

Suddenly they were kissing and she couldn’t think about anything else. Her hands rubbed roughly against the skin of his neck as her tongue flicked across his lips. Opening his mouth and meeting her tongue with his, he obliged. Their tongues wrestled blissfully for an eternity before they finally came up for air.

“What are you?” She heard him ask, but she wasn’t listening. Her eyes were still closed, hoping he would bring his lips back again.

“Hmm?” She murmured after a moment. When she opened her eyes, she couldn’t see his face through her fog. “Sam?” She asked, blinking a few times in order to get her vision back. When she tried focusing, she noticed that his features were twisting and swirling slowly. In confused horror she watched him morph into the dark haired angel who’d assaulted her. With a gasp she tried to pull back from him and then felt a hand wrap around her throat. She tried to reach for the hand and pry it off but it felt like her body was moving through thick molasses.

“Tell me what you are,” He barked as she struggled to escape. The hand around her throat grew tighter and he shouted again in her face, “Tell me. Whe--What you are!” Struggling to get air, she closed her eyes tight and tried to scream. His voice was beginning to skip and warp like an old worn out record.

A deafening “whooshing” began, punctuated by a few other sounds she couldn’t quite make out, “VaSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHtivaSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHtivaSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHtivaSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHtivaSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHtivaSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHH”

Suddenly a voice with a deeper, richer tone spoke quietly to her, “Vashti!” When her eyes snapped open in response, she was startled. It wasn’t the angel anymore. Now Sam looked like a man with thin dusty lips, rounded features, short spiky blonde hair, and blue eyes that matched her own. She didn’t recognize him but something about him filled her with a familiar dread she couldn’t pinpoint, causing her to increase her efforts to get out of his grip.

With a smug curl of his lips, the stranger called to her in a low, sing-song voice, squeezing her throat, “Tell me where you are. Tell me where you are, VASHTI!”

Launching herself upright with a gutteral noise of panic, her eyes darted around the room trying to orient herself as she gulped in air. She saw a figure standing near the stairs and instantly screamed out to Sam for help. It didn’t register that the figure was Sam, until he was sitting on the bed in front of her with his hands on her arms. She grabbed onto his biceps and held tight while he tried to calm her.

“Georgia! It’s OK, you’re OK! I’m here, it’s Sam, it’s me! It’s just me. Me and you, OK?” He shushed forcefully, staring into her eyes to help her focus. She tried to slow her panting, as she felt her body begin to relax, her brain finally able to process her surroundings. Nodding slowly, she let go of his arms and fell forward, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back and stroked her hair calmly. Once her breathing returned to normal, she pulled back and sat up straight.

Looking at her with concern, he asked gently, “Bad dream?”

Running a shaky hand over her face she explained, “It was a great dream until that fucking angel showed up and started strangling me...” Sam frowned in empathy, watching her carefully. She seemed to want to say more; her eyes were glazed over.

The angel had freaked her out but the blonde man had terrified her; her heart was pounding. The feeling of the dream reminded her of the time she’d had sleep paralysis and saw a bony, bloody, scraggly haired witch on top of her; except a thousand times worse. It took her a week to get a good night’s sleep after that, and she hasn’t slept on her back since.

When she didn’t speak, he asked, “Was there something else?”

George blinked the man’s face away and looked back at Sam, “I uh… I don’t know. Yes, maybe. Someone else.”

“Who?” The concern on his face nearly melted her. No one had ever looked at her like that before and she nearly choked up. She was starting to doubt herself. Maybe it was no one? Some actor or character she couldn’t place? Maybe the face of one of the other angels from the group in the forest? Maybe just another case of sleep paralysis? Maybe it was ridiculous that she’d let it get her so worked up and it wasn’t worth focusing on. Especially not when a man as amazing as this one was sitting right in front of her.

Shaking her head a bit she started, “I didn’t recognize him…”

Sam nodded and began rubbing his hands up and down her arms comfortingly, “Well, can you describe him to me? Maybe I’ll rec--”

George shook her head and placed her hands firmly on his chest, cutting him off, “No, no, no. This is silly, I’m being silly. It was just a bad dream, maybe some sleep paralysis or something? I’m better now.” Sam searched her face suspiciously, and she smiled, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt, “I promise. Especially with you here.”

“Georgia, er--” The wiggle of her eyebrow caught him a little off guard. He tried to stay focused on whether or not she was really ok for just a minute longer, “Listen, I don’t think you’re being silly. If there’s something you want to talk about, we can talk about it anytime, OK?”

“Mhm, I appreciate that,” She answered, nodding enthusiastically and beginning to giggle just a bit. His attempt to slow things down with kindness and concern was only revving her up. It really wasn’t his fault; he couldn’t know how adorably sexy he was. “I am feeling much better, thank you.”

“You’re sure?” He asked, a furrow in his brow, as he adjusted a few strands of her hair gently.

“Actually, there is something I’d like to talk about,” She asked, looking at him with an exaggeratedly worried expression.

“Anything,” Sam assured her with a kind smile.

“Well, I don’t like this shirt you’re wearing,” She said apologetically, lifting it up by the hem a bit. He looked down at the shirt quickly and she continued, “I don’t think it looks good on you.”

He looked back up at her confused, “You... don’t?” He had other shirts, but was this really a high priority concern at the moment?

“No, but it’s OK because…” She smirked flirtatiously, batting her eyelashes and tugging harder at the offending garment, “I know it’ll look good off you.”

It took about 1.5 seconds for Sam to catch on and he couldn’t help but laugh shyly, “Oh, yea?” She nodded quickly as he reached for her, pulling her close and planting a kiss on her lips. Allowing him a grace period, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, kissing him back fiercely for a few moments.

Suddenly she pulled back and grabbed his shirt on either side, lifting it up and demanding, “Shirt.”

Sam huffed in annoyance at having been unceremoniously ripped away from her lips but figured the quickest way to remedy that was compliance. He let go of her and grabbed the shirt from her hands, yanking it up and over. As the small fabric fell to the floor, he didn't allow her any time to enjoy the view before grabbing her again.

“Freeze!” She squeaked, placing her hands on his shoulders to stop him. He stopped with a flare of his nostrils and she requested, “Un momento,” before giving him a slow once over. She happily noted his gorgeous, tanned muscles, the dark, sparse patch of hair in the center of his chest, and the dark ink of the protection symbol on his skin, which she slid her fingers over softly. Then, running her hands down his chest with a satisfied sigh, she granted, “Proceed.”

With an amused shake of his head, he leaned forward with a forceful kiss. Pushing her back onto the pillows, he climbed on top of her. Her legs spread so he could lay against her comfortably but the blanket was still between them. She cursed it’s very existence as the two of them got lost in each other’s mouths.

At some point--George was certain an eternity had passed--Sam pulled back and started placing wet kisses on her clavicle. She buried her fingers in his silky soft hair, throwing her head back and lifting her chest toward him. His hand slid down to the hem of her shirt and his fingers slipped underneath. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her brain she thought she heard a low *thonk* sound in the distance.

She was about to mention it when Sam’s hand began sliding up her torso and he murmured with uncertainty, “This looks terrible on you?”

She bit back a chortle and responded with a tug at his hair, “Uh oh, I should probably take it off then, huh?” Under her brain fog she thought she’d heard a voice begin to speak just as Sam let out a loud, sharp agreeable groan. Pausing his kisses, he sat back so he could help her undress.

“Did you... hear something just now?” She murmured nonchalantly, distracted first by his abs and then the thin pajama pants containing his very obvious desire. “Oh, fuck,” She uttered, not caring anymore.

Whatever. The worst it could be is Aunt Lorna and she’ll understand.

She sat up and grabbed the bottom of her undershirt. Sam reached out and grabbed the shirt too, but a split second before they began to pull she heard a quiet voice in her head remind her, Or it could be Dean?

A squeak on the bottom step made them both freeze and when they heard, “Sammy? That you?” they exchanged a look of mutual horror. They both knew he was going to be insufferable if he caught them together.

“Shit!” Sam hissed quietly, while George leaned forward quickly and gasped in pain at the sudden ache that radiated throughout her left side. “Are you ok?!” He whispered in concern.

She nodded quickly, waving him off and whispering with a frantic point, “Shirt!! Your shirt!”

“Sam? Are you up here?” Sam jumped into action, diving over the edge of the bed and grabbing his shirt, scrambling to put it on. Thinking quickly, George grabbed one of the pillows behind her and tossed it on the floor. Sam got the message and threw himself to the ground next to the bed with a clumsy thud. Suddenly he popped back up and leaned in, placing one final quick kiss on her lips before slipping back down into position hurriedly. George, trying to hide her giddy smile, carefully laid back, suddenly very aware of yesterday's injuries, and covered herself with the blanket.

Sam had just finished adjusting his pillow when Dean’s head popped into view from the staircase with a worried expression, “Sam?! Are you O--Oh!” Dean paused for a split second before walking the last two steps and looking between the two of them curiously. George noticed the other half of her mango scone from this morning in his left hand. Instead of mentioning it, she acted like she was wiping the sleep from her eyes, starting to fake yawn.

Trying to look like she was just waking up, she asked, “Dean? Hmm, what time is it?” She glanced down at her side and asked very casually, “Where’s Seen--er, Sam? Have you Sam him? Seen ham--Seem--Have You. Seen Sam?”

Smooth, she kicked herself.

“I--I’m here, still, George,” Sam piped up loudly. “Remember, I offered to stay here on the floor next to your bed until you fell asleep earlier? I guess I fell asleep, too! Oops. Remind me to ask your aunt where she gets her pillows,” He let out a forced, nervous laugh.

Dean, hardly listening, allowed them to ramble while he took in the sight of them, quietly contemplating his next move. These two drama students weren’t fooling anyone; it was clear to him that he’d interrupted something and it filled him with glee. He had serious news but this was like a christmas present hand wrapped by Santa himself. The kind of gift every big brother dreams of.

He asked curiously, “You both OK? I thought I heard some banging?”

George blushed and Sam shook his head, “Yaah--yup, we’re all good. Might have just been my feet kicking the closet.” Sam shifted his foot and gently kicked it a few times against the tiny closet door demonstratively. “Like I said, I’ve just been down here. On the floor. Helping George get some rest.”

“Mhm, he’s been a big help,” George affirmed with a slow, pointed nod. It was obvious Dean knew something was up. She tried her best to seem confident and nonchalant, but she couldn’t help tossing the innuendo out there.

“Cool,” Dean shark-mouthed quickly before shrugging, “well, listen it’s good that I caught the two of you together,” he paused for a split second, looking between them pointedly. Then he explained, “Ja--Ow!” He had shifted to the right causing the side of his head to knock into the slanted ceiling. George bit her lip to keep from snickering when he growled, “OK, did your aunt build this attic to house unwanted children or something?! What the hell!”

“What’s up, Dean?” Sam asked pointedly, clearly ready for him to shit or get off the pot.

“I might ask you the same thing,” He chuckled in response and then, seeing their matching threatening expressions, he informed them, “Jack’s awake.”

“What?!” Without thinking George leapt up off the end of the bed, careful to land where she’d be able to stand upright and ignoring the pain in her side. “He’s awake?!”

“Oh! Well, that’s not for me to see,” Dean muttered when he saw she was only dressed in a black undershirt and briefs. He instantly jerked his head up, smacking into the ceiling again. “Gah! Friggin dollhouse!”

George walked up to him, pausing briefly to ask with concern, “Is he OK??”

Dean, glancing down at her face before back up to the sky, answered, “He’s recovering. Wants to see you. Both.”

“Well move it, then!” She pushed past him and began descending the stairs.

“Georgia!” She stopped and turned back to look at Sam expectantly.

“Clothed maybe?” Dean suggested before Sam could speak.

“Pants!” Sam reminded her with a face palm.

George was too excited to care, explaining, “They’re downstairs!! Let’s go!” before taking off down the steps. Dean turned back to Sam, giving his brother a knowing smile while he, in turn, avoided eye contact.

Sam crawled around to the foot of the bed before standing up, so as not to hit his head on the ceiling. He steeled himself, trying to conjure up his most ‘NO’ expression, and walked over to Dean. When Sam finally met his eyes it was all he could do not to punch the giddy look off his face.

“Look--”

“Hey, you don’t need to explain anything to me, little brother,” Dean began, very empathetically. “I know you’re a gentleman. If you say all you did was sleep next to her on the floor, so she felt safe, I believe you.” He reached up to pat him on the arm a little too hard before turning and beginning to walk downstairs. About halfway down he turned and asked with a curious brow, “And I just assume wearing your shirt inside out is the latest style, right?”

Sam’s head snapped down to look at himself as Dean kept descending the stairs, chortling with glee. Noticing the pronounced seams around his neck Sam muttered a curse; quickly pulling the shirt off, tugging it right side out, and threw it back on as he followed them downstairs.

Sam walked out of the stairwell into the main room and saw Dean, alone, looking around curiously. A flushing toilet answered their silent mutual question a split second later. George emerged from the bathroom in dark blue jeans and a long sleeved pink and black plaid button down, with her black undershirt still underneath. Dressing had been a challenge but she was so excited that Jack was awake--meaning he was at least OK enough to be conscious--that she ignored the pain.

Gathering up her long hair and twisting it into a bun on top of her head, she ordered, “What are you putzs standing around for? Jack’s awake, let’s go!”

“You go ahead, I still need to change,” Sam stated, reaching down to the floor next to the chair for his duffle bag. “I’ll catch--” By the time he looked back up, he could see George through the front window, halfway to the house already. Dean trailed a few feet behind. “Up,” Sam finished with a sharp, accepting nod, heading for the bathroom to change.

[talvenhenki]

I was tagged by @toboestar eons ago, finally doing this thingy :P

THE LAST…

1. Drink: water, just now

2. Phone call: a group call w my friends E and R

3. Text message: to @matthewgreywolf about spiky baby lizards

4. song you listened to: Ilaria Graziano’s I do

5. Time you cried: No idea tbh

6. Time you’ve dated someone: Never :^)

7. Time you’ve kissed someone and regretted it: 8-10 years ago; can’t remember the exact date anymore

8. time you’ve been cheated on: nope

9. Time you lost someone special: lost my grandfather when I was 18 & great-grandmother when I was 14

10. time you’ve been depressed: this week

11. time you’ve gotten drunk and thrown up: I am allergic so I do not drink

FAVORITE COLORS

12. Moss green

13. Prussian blue

14. lavender

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU

15. Made new friends: yeah!

16. fallen out of love: nah

17. laughed until you cried: not cried-cried but got tears in me eyes

18. found out someone was talking about you: hmm hopefully not

19. Met someone who changed you: I’ve barely met anyone irl

20. found out who your friends are: nah

21. kissed someone on your Facebook list: nope

GENERAL

22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: Almost all

23. do you have any pets: not yet, my flatmate does

24. do you wanna change your name: Already did :^)

25. what did you do for your last birthday? Went to an amusement park w my aunt & her fiancé

26. what time did you wake up: around 10

27. what were you doing at midnight last night: getting to bed

28. Name something you can’t wait for: the end of the frickin’ pandemic!

29. when was the last time you saw your mom: last saturday

30. what are you listening to right now: Ilaria Graziano’s I do, as linked above

31. Have you ever talked to a person named tom: yup, there was one in my philosophy class

32. something that is getting on your nerves: the headache I’m sporting

33. most visited website: tumblr or ao3

34. hair color: Brown

35. do you have a crush on someone: atm no

36. Long or short hair: shoulder-length that I’m growing out

37. what do you like about yourself: I am v Zen™

38. Piercings: 2 on left ear, 4 on right

39: blood type: no idea man

40: nickname: Orion or Mars :^)

41. relationship status: solo

42. zodiac: Leo

43. pronouns: they/them

44. favorite tv show: Star Trek!!

45. tattoos: not yet

46. Right or left handed: right

47. surgery: nope

48. Sport: I like swimming & I’ll go back to fencing once the pandemic has calmed down/I get the vaccine

49: Holiday: I like May Day

50. pair of trainers: nah

51. eating: I want some okonomiyaki

52. drinking: mead :^)

53: im about to: boil some pasta once I’m done w this

54: waiting for: a sign

55: want: a hug

56: Get married: maybe, but only if the other person understands what a handful I am

57: career: your local Headache™

58: hugs or kisses: hugs!

59: lips or eyes: eeeeeeyes?

60: shorter or taller: don’t care, really, both have perks

61: older or younger: abt the same age?

62. Nice arms or nice stomach: as long as they’re comfy w their body, I don’t really care much

63. Hook up or relationship: relationship

64: troublemaker or hesitant: I v much am hesitant

65: kissed a stranger: nope

66: drank hard liquor: nope

67: lost glasses or contacts: my glasses have a life of their own

68: turned someone down: yea

69: sex on the first date: ew no

70: broken someone’s heart: hopefully not

71: had your heart broken: not that I remember

72: been arrested: nope

73: cried when someone died: brain has not yet fully computed those I think

74: fallen for a friend: mmmmmmaybe

DO YOU BELIEVE IN…

75: Yourself: depends on the context, really

76: miracles: At this economy? We’d really need one

77: love at first sight: no, more like recognition at first sight

78: kiss on the first date: depends on the chemistry I think

79: angels: my French teaching assistant at the Uni was a literal angel tbh

OTHER

80: current best friend’s name: IDK??? I’m always so unsure who I get to call my best friend?? I have so many amazing ones

81: eye color: it’s a mystery!

82: favorite movie: Cloud Atlas

83: Favorite music genre: classical & whatever is going on w Cécile Corbel

84: favorite item of clothing: sweaters

85: favorite friends character: I gave up w that series years ago

I’m a criminal & I’ll only tag @erdariel to suffer like I did to give us insights and witty remarks :D

[todisturbtheuniverse]

FIC: Set All Trappings Aside [3/8]

Rating: T Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Pairing: f!Adaar/Josephine Montilyet Tags: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Class Differences Word Count: 3800 (this chapter) Summary: After months of flirtation, a contract on Josephine’s life brings Adaar’s feelings for her closer to the surface than ever. It highlights, too, all of their differences, all of the reasons a relationship between them would not last. But Adaar is a hopeful woman at heart; if Josephine can set all trappings aside, then so can she. Also on AO3. Notes: While the context for this story is the Of Somewhat Fallen Fortune questline, some of the conversations within it didn’t quite fit for this Inquisitor. The resulting fic is a twist on the canon romance. This Adaar and Josephine have featured in other fics, so you may miss a little context if you haven’t read Promising or Truth-Telling, which both come before this one.

Chapter 1 | 2

"Inquisitor!"

Adaar winced. She'd been aware of someone shadowing her all the way across the keep, up several flights of stairs, but now that shadow had Leliana's voice and seemed a great deal more threatening.

She'd been expecting this ever since the last, incredulous look Leliana had cast at her over Josephine's desk, ever since Josephine had laid out her plan and Adaar had backed it. But Leliana had bided her time. A full week, watching for a moment when no ears would overhear them.

And with an hour until Josephine was set to appear for dinner, there would be no rescue.

Adaar turned. Leliana strode toward her, no thundercloud on her face, no obvious sign of anger. She didn't carry her bow, either, but Adaar was certain she was plenty capable of hiding knives on her person. Poisonous ones, even.

Surely the needs of the Inquisition would still her hand from a killing blow. Surely.

"Nightingale," Adaar replied, and added a respectful nod for good measure, hoping to stave off the worst.

Leliana's jaw tightened. "May I have a word?"

Adaar opened the door to her quarters and gestured her through. She was not about to walk up those stairs with Leliana at her back.

To her credit, at least, Leliana did not make her. She walked ahead, and Adaar followed, shutting the door behind them.

"I was certain, at first, that your support of Josephine's plan was just a ploy," she said, stopping before the empty fireplace. "But now I see that you really do mean to nurse this foolishness along."

Adaar's temper flared. She did not like all the waiting and watching and scribbling, but she did not think Josephine's plan foolish. It was elegant, if slow. 

But Leliana would probably admit as much, if pressed. She was just worried about her friend. Adaar, who had been worrying nonstop for some time now, could sympathize.

"Yes," Adaar said. "I do. The remaining du Paraquettes have agreed, and she has already found an appropriate sponsor—"

"Her life is more important than her regard for you," Leliana cut across her, turning to face Adaar. "You fear that she will be angry with you if you decide to deal with the House of Repose more directly, but better angry than dead!"

The accusation stung. "Do you really think I didn't already try to talk her out of it? Besides, if anyone has a chance of convincing her, it's you, not—"

"You do not need to talk her out of anything," Leliana snapped. "You are the Inquisitor. You have authority over us all."

"And I choose how to use it," Adaar replied. "She is carefully watched. She is not going to leave Skyhold while this goes on. No one will touch her here. We will make sure of it."

Leliana released an exasperated breath. "This could all be over in a handful of days. We do not need her permission."

"But you need mine," Adaar said. Dared to say. She hated having to do it. Usually things went best when she didn't remind her advisors that the mercenary Vashoth with pointy daggers had the final say, when she could convince them and every stray noble they trotted in front of her that the ideas all came from them, not her. That they acted of their own free will, not on her orders.

But if she had to do it, so be it.

Leliana's eyes narrowed. "If she dies, it is on your hands."

"I won't let that happen." Adaar took a step closer, the better to loom. Leliana had to crane her neck a little to meet her eyes. "Will you? Everyone swears you know every package, every person, every donkey that wanders in and out of this fortress—or is that just a pretty story?"

For a moment, Adaar thought that Leliana would continue to press; instead, she shook her head and brushed past Adaar, making for the stairs.

"It is the truth," she said. "Remember that the next time you send her some pretty bauble from your travels. My eyes are never shut."

Hard to come up with a retort for that. Leliana was already gone, down the stairs and through the door, before Adaar could come up with even half of one. Briefly, her temper sustained her—breath coming hard, muscles tensed as if to rush after Leliana—but then, legs gone watery, she collapsed to the couch.

Maybe Leliana was right. Maybe this was all much worse than Josephine thought, and Adaar was putting her life at risk. But Leliana would act on her own, if that was the case—and ask forgiveness later, rather than trouble with permission now. No, Josephine had the right of it, and Leliana was merely worried for her friend, just like Adaar.

She'd been looking forward to dinner with Josephine all day—all week, really—but some of the enthusiasm left her now. Leliana clearly saw her interest, and disapproved of it. Another tick in the column against any relationship between them: Josephine's oldest and dearest friend found her lacking. 

The flirtation was still fun. Wonderful, even. It had just been more fun, more wonderful, when she hadn't cared whether or not anything came of it.

Then again, maybe she had cared. Maybe she'd thought there was a chance.

Cassandra was right. Partially, at least. She was star-crossed. She just didn't want to be.

Some of Cook's people came along half an hour later to set the table. Adaar stayed out of their way. She did not put her daggers away, not with Leliana's warning still in her ears. She kept them hanging from her chair within easy reach, and if Josephine noticed them as she swept in and took her seat, she didn't comment.

"This is our most popular vintage," she said, lifting the bottle to pour wine into Adaar's glass. "If it can't convince you to leave your hypothetical hermitage, then nothing will."

Adaar laughed, amused despite the dour mood Leliana had delivered to her. "We'll see," she said, teasing. "It's an awfully long trip from the Free Marches."

Josephine gave an indignant scoff. "Antiva is neighboring! You wouldn't even need to cross water, though I suppose taking ship from Wycome might be faster than horseback."

"Ah, but I'll be just a poor farmer, unable to afford passage."

Josephine rolled her eyes. "Try the wine, please."

Adaar sipped. The taste bloomed in her mouth—heady, rich, complex. Far different from the watered-down drinks they served at the Herald's Rest. She didn't have the knowledge to describe it further.

"I suppose I will have to find a way," she sighed, setting the glass down. "It really is very good."

"I am glad that is settled," Josephine said with a smile. "Now, about these demands—my apologies, requests—that piled up while we were away…"

Adaar chuckled, and Josephine smiled a little wider, unfolding the first document. They ate while they worked, Adaar trying to keep her mind on problem after problem as it was passed before her. 

But there was another problem distracting her, demanding her attention. Whoever had lived in Skyhold previously hadn't worried much about things like the inherent danger of a room made entirely of windows, and with Leliana's dire words still ringing in her ears, she found herself wishing they'd met in Josephine's office instead.

She'd hardly ever noticed the windows before. It was rare for her to spend more than a handful of minutes awake in this room. Long enough for a brief wash, no more. The inside of her tent felt more familiar to her than this place. It had been decorated very pleasantly, but she'd had no hand in it.

The point being: she slept in this room, but lightly. She was unconcerned with her own self-defense, which the daggers under her pillow could take care of.

But she had never tried to protect anyone else in this room before, and it was a logistical nightmare. So many points of entry. What had the original builder had against nice, sturdy stone walls? A few arrowslits would've sufficed for the view.

"You've hardly touched your wine," Josephine said, the tone of her voice changing just enough for Adaar to take notice. "I am afraid you lied about liking it. To spare my feelings, perhaps?"

Adaar glanced at the glass—yes, still barely a sip gone—and went back to watching the windows.

"It's not that, I'd just rather keep my head clear if we’re going to get through this," she said, gesturing without looking to the piles of letters strewn across the table between them.

"Mmm-hmm." In her peripheral vision, Adaar saw Josephine’s eyes narrow. "So what do you suggest we do about Lord Baloveyer, then?"

Adaar had no idea who Lord Baloveyer was. Probably the topic of Josephine’s talk just a moment before, but Adaar, absorbed by her window observation, remembered none of it. 

"I’m sorry," she admitted. "Despite the lack of wine, my attention...wandered. Can you summarize the issue for me?"

Josephine folded her hands over the papers, raising an eyebrow at Adaar. "Assassins are not going to burst through the window if you take your eyes off of it."

"They might," Adaar grumbled, not bothering to protest this observation.

"There are soldiers stationed both in the garden and on the wall. There are even a few at the bottom of the stairs. I know you trust our people."

"You haven’t seen how keen some of them are on supplies. All an assassin has to do is wave some silverite under their noses and they’ll let him right up."

There was a look of concern in Josephine's eyes that didn’t belong there at all. Didn’t she understand that she was the one at risk, and Adaar was merely her insufficient shield for the evening? 

And what would happen when even that was gone, when she had to return to her quarters and rely only on the guards for her safety? They were good, Adaar could admit that, but not as good as Adaar. These assassins, if they came, would not play fair.

"Then you'll take care of him," Josephine said, all confidence, "whether you're watching the windows or not."

"I plan to," Adaar said. "I just wish that you would sit in a nice, windowless room while this all gets sorted out."

"There is too much work to be done for me to shut myself away for weeks on end."

"Then we should get back to it." It was clear that Josephine was not going to give up this topic until Adaar relaxed her vigilance a little. Reluctantly, she shifted to sit properly in her chair, her back now to one set of windows. Theoretically, the soldiers in the garden below could deal with that entrance. She’d watch the sheer cliffside instead.

She'd have to be careful not to get distracted by watching Josephine's face, which also happened to be in that direction. Even now, she looked at Adaar, her brow still creased with concern.

"Perhaps we should take the rest of the night off," she suggested.

"Oh? I can prepare the vault for your arrival, if that’s the case."

"No," Josephine said, laughing a little. "I only meant...you have been working very hard. You look as if you could use a break. Just for an evening."

"You have a very nice way of saying I look like shit," Adaar said dryly.

Josephine lifted her chin. "I did not say that."

"Exactly."

Josephine looked pointedly at Adaar's still-full glass of wine, and with a resigned sigh, she picked it up and drank. As good as the first sip had been. Heavy, maybe, was the word for it. Not the right word, but a word. The warmth of it settled in her stomach, loosening her muscles a little.

Well, if Josephine wanted to set work aside, who was Adaar to refuse? Trying to keep track of it all was giving her a headache, anyway.

"My calendar called this a working dinner," she said, a last token protest.

"And since I have free reign over your calendar, as you yourself said, I can strike a word or two from the record." Josephine leaned back in her chair, wine glass in hand. "The work will still be there in the morning."

"Will it ever," Adaar muttered. "Fine, then. I hope you brought more of this very good wine."

Josephine's eyes sparkled. The candlelight brought out the subtler hues in her irises: a stormy gray-blue, a dappled green. Adaar could practically hear Shokrakar's voice in her head, taunting: Working on your poetry, Adaar? 

"A few bottles, actually," Josephine said. "Different vintages. I find that you appreciate the expensive ones less after a few glasses."

Adaar's curiosity piqued. "Define expensive for me, here."

Josephine named a sum. Adaar put down her glass immediately.

"I think you should probably open one of those less expensive bottles," she said. She wished she'd set the glass further away. She was not particularly clumsy, but she imagined knocking that glass off the table, the coins that would roll away through the floorboards, lost forever. "This is wasted on me."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous—"

"No, really. Until recently, I was drinking the first watered-down swill we could find every time the Valo-kas came off a job. And it worked just fine. I don't need to guzzle the last of your family's gold."

Josephine gave her an arch look. "We are not that destitute. And even if we were…" 

She reached across the table, took Adaar's hand, and molded her fingers back to the stem of the wine glass. The way that all Adaar's insides surged against her ribs at the touch was not helpful. 

"You like it," Josephine said, her fingers still curled around Adaar's, holding them in place. "Yes? So it is not wasted on you." She looked up at Adaar, her smile soft, sweet. "Besides, I think you'll find that it works better than just fine. Perhaps it will help you relax."

Josephine released her hand, and Adaar released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The oxygen that flooded her brain left her a little lightheaded. 

"Relaxing used to be a lot easier," she said, but she took another cautious sip of the wine made of gold.

"Ah, so you used to be better at it."

Adaar shot her a dirty look. Josephine smiled innocently back, as if daring her to prove it.

"Every tavern we passed loved the Valo-kas," Adaar said. "We spent all our coin drinking all their ale, and we were nice to the barmaids." She stared into her wine and gave a dramatic, forlorn sigh, as if she longed for those simpler days.

Some part of her did, in fairness. She'd been so much clearer on where she belonged then.

"You sound like one of those gaudy stories Yvette loves," Josephine teased. "The mercenaries were hard as iron, but a serving girl with a listening ear who was quick with the ale would learn they were soft of heart. And other silliness."

"Just a listening ear, hmm?"

"It does seem a euphemism, doesn’t it?" Josephine said, not missing a beat, and gave Adaar a sly look. "Well? Is it?"

Adaar managed a laugh, though she nearly choked on it. Talking to Josephine wasn't like talking to one of the holier-than-thou nobles who passed through Skyhold, who'd handed a job to the Valo-kas as if trying not to brush fingers with them. Despite her family's eminent fortunes, she was still just...Josephine. Clever, sweet, kind, funny Josephine. 

If she could be so bold, then Adaar would not hold back. 

"Are you asking me if I ever bedded a serving girl?" she asked, putting on her most devilish grin. "Maybe after she listened to one of my very obviously embellished stories and bound up my most recent wounds?"

There was a flash of something on Josephine's face. Heat, maybe? Consternation? Jealousy? Oh, Adaar wished.

"You might consider listening to more of Skyhold's rumormongers," Josephine said. "There are a few people here who claim to have done as much with you."

Adaar, in the middle of a mouthful of wine, nearly spat it out. She swallowed hastily. "Excuse me?"

There was a wicked glint in Josephine’s eye now. Adaar should have known better than to trifle with her. Her humor had been honed by the Grand Game; Adaar felt a sickening swoop in her stomach at the sight of that intent look on her face, the feeling she’d come to associate with falling an inch or a foot or a mile deeper in love. 

"Only the gullible believe it, of course," Josephine continued, almost carelessly. "Or visiting nobles who like a bit of a story about our figurehead. There are enough eyes on you to confirm, without question, whether you’ve actually been involved with anyone."

"How reassuring," Adaar muttered, not particularly mollified. "I think I will continue my practice of ignoring rumors, thank you. It will be hard to look Cook in the face if I think she’s daydreaming. Six months ago she wouldn’t even make eye contact with me, and now she puts a little vase of flowers on the tray when she has meals sent up to me. Is that what that’s about?"

Josephine had pressed her hand over her mouth, not quite tight enough to contain the laughter spilling out; there was a gleam of tears in her eyes from the mirth. Adaar shook her head and took a gulp of the wine before remembering how expensive it was; at the look on her face, Josephine laughed all the harder.

The rumors weren't so far off base. If not for the circumstances, she'd have found someone to roll in the hay with by now. Let off a little steam. But even for a casual tryst, it seemed unfair to any takers if Josephine was in her head all night.

"What about you, then," she said, only a little grumpily—for effect. "This is all very base, this talk of unions in seedy taverns. I’m sure you’ve had more elaborate romances. You were in Orlais, after all, with Leliana for a friend."

Josephine’s laughter died off to chuckles; she dabbed at her eyes, careful not to smear any of the kohl that lined them. "With Leliana for a friend, I was lucky to occasionally sneak a kiss behind a tapestry. She can be very protective."

Adaar thought back to an hour before. "I had no idea."

Josephine shrugged, just the smallest motion of her shoulders. "There were overtures. None of it felt...natural. A great deal of poetry recited at length, bouquet after bouquet of flowers. It always felt like another part of the Game rather than any real feeling. I entertained a few, but only briefly. They were flings, nothing more."

"Pity," Adaar said, though she didn't mean it in the slightest.

"Pity?"

"In the same way that Yvette—and you, it seems—found some entertainment in the idea of a lowly merc with a soft side sharing a night with a kind stranger, I’ve always imagined there must be something unbearably romantic about being swept off your feet with all the trappings. Poetry, flowers, beautiful dress, glittering jewelry." She grinned, despite how close this came to highlighting all of their differences. "My parents were farmers, after all."

Josephine shook her head, an amused, somewhat fond smile on her face. "I’m sorry to disappoint you."

"And I, you."

"I don’t think you’ve quite managed that, yet." Josephine folded her arms in a way that—well, Adaar did not stare, she just had good peripheral vision, and the swell of Josephine's breasts in the low neckline of her dress was very nice, indeed. She had a few freckles there, barely discernible.

"Oh?" Adaar said. She sounded passably normal, luckily.

"After all, as you are quite adept at doing, you changed the subject. You managed to thoroughly avoid confirming or denying your activities with the Valo-kas."

"It's just not that interesting."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Adaar shook her head. "There were a few people. Men, women. But none of them ever patched me up, or looked me in the eyes such that they seemed to pierce through to my soul, or anything."

"Flings," Josephine said, understanding.

"Yes, though without the poetry and flowers."

"You are better off, I promise you," Josephine said, shuddering theatrically. "The things they would come up with! One wrote an entire stanza devoted to my eyebrows. Not a skilled writer among them."

"Ah, pity the poor fools. It would be near impossible to capture your beauty with words."

Josephine laughed, dismissing it as a joke, but Adaar saw her cheeks darken, too. Her fingers tightened on her wine glass. Her eyes darted to Adaar's and away again, a little wide, a little flustered.

Yes, good grief, the flirtation was still fun. Nothing compared to how Josephine reacted to a compliment, like she'd never been paid one before.

"You are ridiculous," she said.

Adaar sobered, wondering if she'd misread. "Should I stop?"

Josephine considered, her head tilted just slightly to the side. "I would miss it if you did. Even if the things you say are outrageous."

Just once, Adaar wanted Josephine to understand: it wasn't outrageous, not to her. It was true. The slight golden cast of her skin in the firelight; the sweet curve of her smile; the way she'd looked at Adaar and declared her worthy. Josephine was exceptional. Extraordinary. Capturing that in a few stanzas was not possible.

She was about to say as much, to do her best, when a knock echoed from the bottom of the stairs. "Message for you, Inquisitor!" a scout's voice called.

If she wasn't mistaken, Josephine looked a little disappointed, as if the conversation had been cut too short for her liking, too.

Once Adaar had peeled back the wax seal, though, the easy mood of the evening evaporated, and there was no getting it back. The events described in the letter were too chilling. Another settlement threatened. More lives lost.

"I'll have to set out tomorrow," she said, fingertips tucked tight against her glowing palm.

Josephine closed the gap between them again, curled her fingers around Adaar's fist. "Be careful."

Adaar looked up from the letter. "I hadn't planned to leave while this was still unresolved, but—"

"Herah. There are plenty of guards here. I will follow Leliana's instructions to the letter. You have greater concerns."

It was selfish, but Adaar wanted to retort that she didn't. That Josephine was her greatest concern. That the world would have to get in line.

But that would tip her hand. She couldn't do that, no matter how thin her resolve was wearing, all the thinner after hearing her name on Josephine's tongue, as if it was perfectly at home there.

She would just have to be quick. Fix it, and hurry back, and hope that Skyhold would hold in her absence.

Go to Chapter 4 -->

[twittytelly]

An Unexpected Gain

Side Chapter – The Deal

Colin Shea X  Female Reader

Series Masterlist.

A/N: Remember when I intended this to be a one shot or a two/three parter? Let’s just go with this being as long as it’s going to be. This was originally going to be a short flashback for a scene in part 3, but it kind of ran away with me and I like it.

This isn’t crucial to the plot, but you will need to have read Chapter One to get the context.

Summary: It’s the morning after the night before, and Colin has a proposition that will change both of your lives forever.

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual References, Overuse of the Word “Troll” - if you turn it into a drinking game I will not be held responsible for the consequences!

Mood board by @imanuglywombat​

“Can you be honest with me Colin?” You asked, tentatively.

“Always.”

“Do I let off a beacon that attracts creeps and assholes? Every time I think I’ve met someone who’s half decent, they turn out to be complete dicks.” You lamented. Sure ,Colin was no knight in shining armour himself, but the fact that he didn’t seem to hide his true intentions made him seem more trustworthy than the piece of shit who tried to take you home the night before. Colin chuckled and pulled you closer to him so that your bare body became flush with his warm skin, gently brushing your hair behind your ear so you could make eye contact with him.

“No sweetheart, if those idiots can’t see how gorgeous and wonderful you are then that’s on them.” He replied giving a reassuring smile, before lightly pressing his lips on your forehead. “Sometimes you have to kiss a few frogs-”

“But that’s the problem,” You interrupted “I’m not getting frogs, I’m getting the trolls under the bridge. It’s like I’m cursed or something.”

“Y/N you are far from cursed. You’ll find someone soon enough, you might have already met them and not realised it yet.”

“Says you!” You scoffed, “You’re too busy kicking out those poor women to ever work out if they’re the one or not!”

“Honey may I remind you of where we currently are?” Colin challenged raising an eyebrow, “I hope I don’t need to remind you about what we did last night, because I have it on good authority that my performance is far from forgettable.”

“Oh get fucked you jerk!” You laughed, playfully hitting Colin on the shoulder. Blushing as you remembered. “Besides this is different. I was using you just as much as you were using me.” You paused, taking Colin’s lack of response as your cue to explain further. “You were using me as you didn’t have a chance to have your post-show lay, and I used you to forget my drunken troll.”

“How do you know I have a post-sh-”

“Colin we’ve been neighbours for years and I’ve been to your gigs before. In fact I think at the first show I went to you tried to pick me up.”

“Well I wore you down eventually” Colin joked. But then his manner changed from flirtatious to speculative as the figurative light bulb had switched on in his mind. “Hmm” Colin mused, piquing your interest. “I have a proposal for you.”

“Go on…”

“Remember when I told you that I had dirt on everyone in the building?” You nodded. “How about I use my skills to help you weed out the trolls from the frogs, and when those frogs don’t turn into princes, or turn out to be cleverly disguised trolls, I’ll be your palate cleanser.”

You narrowed your eyes at Colin as you considered his offer. “But-”

“Obviously we’re not going to be exclusive, and you don’t have to sleep with me every time you have a bad date. But you have to admit that we had a good time last night, and that’s the very least you deserve” Coiln explained, his eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation as you suppressed a giggle. “And I promise you that once you find your Prince Charming, I will step aside and cheer you on while you ride off into the sunset.” is lips formed a cheeky grin. “Besides I’ve always wanted to add ‘matchmaker extraordinaire’ onto my CV.”

You giggled as you contemplated his proposition, your eyes raking up and down his incredible body as you remembered how he had used it the night before, heat beginning to pool between your legs. It wouldn’t do you any harm to have some help, so you didn’t waste your time on any losers. And last night…well it would be plain stupid not to turn down a repeat of last night. You looked up at him as you lifted your head to quickly brush your lips against his.

“Deal.”

-

Tag! You’re it: @whiskey-cokenfanfic @mrs-captain-evans @captainrogerrspumpkinslut @southerngracela @katiew1973 @supersoldiersruined-me @kelbabyblue @amiquette @feelmyroarrrr

[spectraspecs-writes]

Kashyyyk - Chapter 72 (Jolee)

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 71. Chapter 73

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

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

Oh my god, I’m in love with Carth.

But that’s okay, I can deal with it. We have an important job to do and we can’t afford to waste any time. Any second of wasted time is a second that Malak gets closer to wiping out the Republic. Maybe when we’re in a more secure place I can mention it to him, then…

Yeah, like that conversation will work out. “Hi Carth, I know you’re still mourning your dead wife, I just thought you should know I’m in love with you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. Also you’re sexy as hell and I’ve kind of wanted to do you since Taris. Okay, have a nice day.” Spectacular, Rena. Because that’s going to work out.

And that’s even assuming that he feels anywhere close to the same way. If he does, we can salvage a friendship at the very least. If he doesn’t, then that’s it. End of the road. We’d be too embarrassed to spend any time with each other in any context. And frankly the notion that he might feel exactly the same way is even more terrifying. Because it’s not like I’ve never dated team partners before. I’ve had relationships, with and without sex, with members of my scouting teams before. But those relationships rarely went beyond that particular mission, and when they did we ended up getting sick of each other really quickly. But this feels different than those feelings, those relationships. The Twi’leks, the dewback herder - with them and the rest, I guess it was situational. We were put into a situation and clung to each other. Maybe it’s different here? I mean, on Taris we were kind of forced together into a situation. He helped me get off the Endar Spire, we got stuck looking for Bastila. But we easily could have parted ways on Dantooine. And we aren’t sick of each other yet. It just feels completely different and I don’t know what to do about it.

I certainly can’t sleep anymore. But Bastila and Canderous are still asleep, the sun isn’t anywhere close to up yet. So there’s not really anything I can do right now except meditate, which is boring as hell. But, better than just sitting here in the dark doing nothing at all while my brain obsesses over Carth, right? So I give it a shot.

“My, my,” I hear Jolee say softly, “you really are impatient. Can’t even sleep straight through the night, hmm?”

“I don’t sleep well,” I say simply, reflexively. He hums curiously. “What happened to your beauty sleep?”

“Don’t make fun of your elders,” he says, teasing me. He pauses, looking at me. “Got something on your mind?”

“Dude, I’ve already got Bastila in my head, I don’t need another Jedi in there.”

“Who said anything about being in your head?” he says, “When you’ve lived as long as I have, you learn to recognize a look of frustration on a woman’s face.”

“Frustrated a lot of women, have you?”

“What a sharp wit!” he says, then he looks at Bastila and Canderous (who have unconsciously turned to each other in their sleep.) “Why don’t we talk outside?” he says, “Let them sleep.” So I get up and follow him out.

It’s stopped raining, but a few drops of water still fall from the trees. I inject another of Canderous’s allergy stims before my head gets too fuzzy. Jolee looks at it curiously. “Turns out I’m allergic to the wroshyr trees,” I explain, “Weird, huh?”

“Ah, so that’s why you want to get off this planet so badly,” he says, “Can’t say I blame you.” We stand in silence for a bit. “So, what’s on your mind?”

“It’s honestly not that big a deal.”

“Big enough for you to sit up and try to meditate.”

“I’m a Jedi! Jedi meditate!”

He scoffs in laughter. “I’m not so easily fooled by your half-assed excuses,” he says, “I’m old and I’ve seen too much of the galaxy to fall for the lies of a kid like you.”

I mean, he’s right. “Yeah,” I say under my breath, “Carth said I’m a lousy liar.”

“He’s right.”

I sigh. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell Bastila,” I say, “She’d be furious and self-righteous about it.”

“You have my word,” he says. And it feels earnest.

I don’t know, though, I still feel really nervous about it. And I feel like saying it out loud will make it too real and I’ll have to confront it a lot sooner than I want to. Right now it is perfectly safe in my head, existing only as an idea. “Okay, so there’s this… friend of mine,” I say. I can already tell Jolee knows I’m stretching the truth again, but he lets it go. “And my friend was telling me about this dream she had, where she was with this guy on a planet…”

“What planet?”

What? “I don’t know, what difference does it make?”

Jolee shrugs. “I don’t know, you tell me! A planet like Mustafar would be different from a planet like Naboo.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” I say, “but it was a nice planet, I guess, plains ecosystem from what I could tell.”

He sort of nods. “And just what were you doing on this planet?”

“My friend,” I emphasize, “and the guy were just… hanging out, having… fun. The kind of fun I… she hasn’t had in a long time.” Jolee sort of smiles softly. “But then there was an accident, she was hurt. In the dream, I mean. Legs busted up, big cut on her head, and she told him to go, come back for her, but… he stayed. And it was perfect.”

“Mm-hmm,” he says neutrally, “And you’re curious what it means, hmm?”

“Oh, I know what it means, it’s just… saying it out loud makes it… too real.”

“For your friend.”

“For my friend.” He gives a little nod. “I mean, this really isn’t the time for things like that, is it? I mean, whole galaxy is in danger, an entire way of life under threat, and in the middle of all that - it’s ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous, perhaps,” he says, “The wrong time? Never.”

“I suppose you’ve got an opinion on the subject.”

“I’m old, I’m entitled to a few opinions,” he grumbles, “If it makes you - and your friend - feel better, I’ve been in the same situation. And come out the other side. Far better to have it, in my experience.”

I shake my head a little. “Is that why you’ve decided to tag along, then?” I ask, “To give relationship advice to Padawans?”

“It could be for the free food,” he suggests, “Or the riveting late-night conversation.”

I snicker. “You’re my kind of guy,” I say. I love the way he plays and teases. Keeping up with me quip for quip. “Seriously, though,” I say. 

“I’m old, dammit!” he says, “I'm allowed to be enigmatic when I want to be, and don't go telling me otherwise.” Wouldn’t dream of it. “You know, you remind me of someone else I knew ages ago. Pleasant enough fellow, great destiny, all of that. Breath like a bantha.”

“Yeah, you don’t smell so great, yourself.”

“Bah!” He whacks me lightly. “Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. Andor Vex, was his name. The Force swirled around him like a hurricane, that's how great his destiny was.”

“It’s not a name I’m familiar with.”

“No, you wouldn't be,” he says, “Sometimes swirling Force is just swirling Force. It gets us old Jedis excited at our age so we go ‘ooo, destiny!’” I snicker again. “Well, it turned out that poor Andor believed a wee bit too much in the infallibility of that destiny. That overconfidence turned out to be his downfall.”

“It usually is,” I say, “Is there a point to this story, here?”

“Does it have to have a point?” he asks rhetorically, “I thought we were just talking about Andor. Is something wrong with your attention span?”

“So they tell me.”

“Let's see… oh, yes. Andor's downfall. I was pretty young, myself, when it happened. At the time, I thought that Andor's destiny couldn't be more boring,” he says, “I was just about to abandon Andor to whatever the Force intended for him when his ship was overtaken by a Dimean warship. Now, you've probably never heard of the Dimeans, but at the time they were a nasty lot led by a nastier overlord named Kraat. Tall fellow. Big teeth. Kraat has us hauled onto the bridge of his ship for questioning, and that's when I knew that Andor's destiny was at hand.”

“Got a sense for that, do you?”

“Swirling Force, remember? Jedi here? Granted, I was just interpreting the signs, but we get trained in that sort of thing. More or less.” He gives a little shrug. “Well, Andor decides that his destiny makes him invulnerable and starts making all sorts of demands. Free me now, I'm not answering questions, blah blah blah.” I do enjoy how he tells stories. “Don't you know who I am? Kraat decides he's had enough and begins crushing Andor's neck. I told the boy he should have kept his mouth shut. I think he agreed, too… or those could have just been gurgling noises. Well… well, anyway. Finally, Kraat has enough of Andor and tosses him aside into this giant energy intake shaft. Andor gets sucked in and starts bouncing around, screaming.” Hell of a thing to laugh about, Jolee. But I have to admit, the image is funny. “Maybe Andor hit something sensitive on the way down or just didn't agree with the reactor core, next thing I know all the ship's alarms are ringing.”

“No. Way.”

“Everyone panics and I run, barely making it to the ship in time before the explosion. Kraat dies horribly, and the Dimeans never quite recovered. Changed the political course of the entire sector for centuries to come. I'd call that quite a destiny, wouldn't you?”

I laugh a little and shake my head. “So what, exactly, does that have to do with you coming with me?”

“Well, hey, the chances may not be great, but when one has the opportunity to see something like that twice in a lifetime…”

I laugh again. “Well, tell you what,” I say, “When I fight Malak, I’ll be sure to bring you with me, so you get that chance, how does that sound?”

“Bah!” he exclaims, “Don’t do me any favors.”

We both sit and sigh. I rub my nose a bit. “How long until sunrise, anyway?”

“Do I look like a clock to you?” he objects teasingly, and he scoffs. 

“Well, you know, don’t you?”

He sighs. “One or two hours,” he says.

��Thank you.” I thought it was later than that. Or earlier. I don’t know, which word fits better? Guess Bastila and Canderous will be awake before too long. I wonder how they’ll react when they find out they’ve turned to each other in their sleep…

I head back inside. Dammit, Bastila rolled over.

[elleonmybeloved]

So, I don’t really have any finished fics to link for the thing Raven tagged me in a while ago... but how about a snippet from one of my original works that’s in progress? It’s from one of my upcoming books, Shipwrecked on Apophyia.

~~~

“What were you really thinking about, staring so intensely into nothing?” The friendly easy-going tone he had made him popular on the cruise, several people flocking to him easily. Junia assumed he was the type who made a lot of friends wherever he went. 

Well, he’d asked, so don’t blame her for being honest.

“I was thinking about the ruins we saw today on our dive. I just find it odd that despite their depth, they show signs of the damage occurring in the water. In fact, almost all of the ruins we’ve visited have been like that. How would people or the elements have had access to it to destroy it while under the water? They didn’t have the kind of modern technology we have today. Did something collide with it underwater?...”

“...And yet the impact pattern suggests a number of close range blows rather than a single large one.” She mused, pinching a strand of hair between her fingers in thought. “Not to mention we can’t figure what made those marks. Granted these ruins are ancient, so the evidence left on the surface of the impacts must have eroded into the water by now, but if it was a hard material like stone or some kind of metal, it would have left traces somewhere nearby. A large enough chunk to analyze.”

“But there’s nothing. As if an invisible force was the one to collide with it. But how could that be possible. I also noticed the central impact indentations were about the size of an average human hand…”

Junia trailed off as she noticed Dr. Danforth staring at her. Irritation sparked in her chest. And this was exactly why people should just leave her alone if they didn’t want to listen.

“Yeah, I know it’s a long shot, all crazy theories and no evidence. Not really fair to blame me when you asked though.” She grumbled.

Dr. Danforth raised an eyebrow. “I never told you to stop, did I?”

“Your face was dropping hints.”

The doctor laughed. “No, no, you misunderstand me. I was just thinking that I wish I had more students that questioned like you do. Science is asking questions. Not taking things at face value like we are all so tempted to do. Even I struggle with that. I think you have a knack for it, Miss Klein.”

“Oh.” Junia dropped her gaze, unhappy at her inability to gauge a situation correctly, once again. “Sorry.”

“Hmm… I actually noticed the peculiar way in which the damage was inflicted as well. I’d love to hear more of your theories, but all that swimming gets a man hungry, and I know from experience I’m more than capable of talking all through dinner.” Stepping back from the railing, Dr. Danforth made a beckoning gesture. 

“Hopefully you’ll join me in the dining room then, so we can continue our discussion?” 

Junia bit her lip. She was hungry, but she preferred to wait until almost everyone had already ate and left to go get hers. Hence why she was out here in the first place. What’s more, she was willing to bet that any table with Dr. Danforth at it would soon be way too over-populated for her liking. 

“We can sit at one of the booths.” He said encouragingly, reading her expression. “More comfortable anyways.”

Junia couldn’t think of any other reason to refuse.

“...Alright.” She said finally, breaking away from the railing and trailing after him. 

—-

Play with fire and you will get burned.

Such a simple concept and she was born with such a capable brain. Yet, here Junia was, in a situation she knew was a risk and she’d took it anyway. Junia and Dr. Danforth had been able to exchange theories in their red-cushioned booth seats for exactly five minutes before dinner was ruined.

Miserably shoveling a bite of vegetable stir fry into her mouth, Junia glared down at the reflection of the intruders on the rim of her bowl. Across from her sat Dr. Danforth, and beside him, the big trendy glasses and dark red lipstick wearing, probably not old enough to be drinking that bright yellow pina colada “assistant” the Doctor had brought along, Erica Lockheart. 

The other unwelcome addition sat next to her, caging her into this prison of her own terrible judgement, Dr. Juliano Manuel, renowned across the field for his published ground-breaking research papers on pre-columbian civilization, and one of Dr. Danforth’s old friends apparently. They were happily drinking Corona and swapping stories as if she wasn’t there.

Dr. Manuel was also much younger than Dr. Danforth, in his early twenties, and acted as such, insisting on buying her a drink and asking her all sorts of questions she didn’t want to answer.

Between Ms. Lockheart’s shameless attempts to catch Dr. Danforth’s attention with the cleavage displayed by her low-necked cocktail dress and Dr. Manuel’s incessant flirting and attempt to put the moves on her, Junia was going to jump overboard of her own volition and swim her own way back hundreds of miles to the nearest shore rather than spend another minute enduring this torture.

Brushing her perfectly manicured hand over Dr. Danforth’s shirt, Ms. Lockheart teasingly rubbed the crisp white lapel and whispered something Junia couldn’t hear, but could definitely guess.

With an exasperated exhale, Junia abruptly stood, snatching her things off the booth. 

“Excuse me.” She demanded, looking pointedly at Dr. Manuel. 

“Where are you going, you’ve barely touched your drink.” He protested with a placating pat on her arm as he gestured to the light green mojito he’d forced on her.

Junia was nearing the end of her patience.

“Move, before I make you move.”

With a surprised expression of shock, Dr. Manuel scooted off the seat. 

Junia did not waste any time, stalking off as fast as her feet could take her. She didn’t even glance back at Dr. Danforth.

“Jeez, rude much?” She heard Ms. Lockheart say, but just clenched her teeth and weaved around the tables of socializing scientists in the dining room, barging through the swinging doors with more force than necessary and letting them bat together loudly behind her.

It was surprisingly windy out on the deck. Spitting hair out of her mouth, she raised a curious glance to the night sky. Just an hour previous there had been not a cloud in sight, but now a wall of thick dark clouds loomed from the west. The strong breeze was cool, a stark contrast to the warm night air it moved into. 

It was probably going to rain. She’d better get back to her room before her short wavy locks frizzed up. She hadn’t thought to bring many hair products with her on this cruise, but she hadn’t been planning for anything other than blazing sun. The many bottles of SPF 50 on her bedside table spoke to that.

Once safely back in the private warmth of her room, with a locked door between her and the world, Junia’s temper began to settle.

‘Well great, more people to avoid. Can’t a girl do her research in peace without people having to stir up drama?’ She thought to herself, eyeing the diving gear she’d dumped on the floor earlier. She should probably clean it. Though mostly dry by now, there were bits of seaweed, sand, and salt residue.

Grabbing some sanitary wipes and the small trash can, she got to work cleaning the suit. Zoning out at the repetitive motions, her mind returned to contemplate the ruins she’d seen today.

Junia thought it was odd how all the ruins of Apophysis that were most intact were deep underwater. If the city had fallen by war, which seemed more likely than disease given the deliberate destruction of several of the buildings and other structures they’d discovered, why would the few ruins they discovered on land be in worse condition than those in the ocean? Shouldn’t erosion and the disturbance of sea life have deteriorated those faster?

It all left her with so many questions. Which, to her, was exciting. If she could figure something out here she’d not only be a step closer to unraveling the mysteries of this ancient civilization, but any groundbreaking discovery would be enough to launch her into the kind of fame and renown that would greatly expedite her research.

Yes, she was being paid by the University’s graduate program to go on this cruise and conduct research on the ruins, but that sum just barely covered her living costs. Food, housing, and everyday expenses… but not much else. So getting her hands on quality equipment and materials was proving difficult. Even her diving equipment was a rental.

Something fell out of the swim fin she had been scrubbing. Scooting back, she reached between her legs to get it. Holding it up to the light, it was a round rock-like shape covered in grime.

Wiping off the surface, Junia peered at it closer. What was this? Beneath the dirt, it was a dark but beautiful blue, near-black color that was somewhat transparent, like a crystal, although the surface was more rough. It reminded her of sea glass, but less fragile.

Clearing away more of the grime until it was clean, Junia curiously inspected the circular rock. This was too well shaped to be natural, it had been cut by human hands. A smooth circular ridge framed the outer part of the circle. Was this decorative in nature? Flipping it over to inspect the back, Junia gasped. There were Apophyian symbols engraved in a circle on the back, and one large symbol in the middle. 

There was no official translation for Apophyian, having only been recently discovered within the past 20 years, but there was some loose suggestions for translations for the most popular recurring symbols put together by leading researchers in the field. Junia herself had her own theories of what each symbol meant based on their context, but due to the lack of undamaged ruins, it was difficult to find more than 5-6 symbols side to side intact. So there was no way to prove any guesses she’d developed, but she had discovered a few years ago that the symbols seemed to resemble ancient pictorial languages like Egyptian hieroglyphs and early traditional mandarin Chinese, and found enough similar patterns to make some connections and possible translations. 

Most of the symbols on this odd rock however, which she assumed was perhaps a votive amulet of some kind, were unlike the ones she’d observed on the other ruins. That made sense, considering those ruins had been architectural remains and she wouldn’t expect the words engraved on a bridge or a tower to be the same as ones carved into an amulet. There were a few she did recognize though.

The word she had speculated meant “ocean,” which she was definitely not surprised to see, was one. The other she recognized though, was the symbol for “power” or “force” which, if this object truly did have a votive purpose, also made sense. An amulet for protection. It was rather fancy to be a personal item, though. Perhaps this had belonged to an important person or rulerm, or even symbolically, to a deity. 

Regardless of its original purpose and value, this object was definitely priceless to her and her fellow Apophyian researchers. Putting it in a plastic baggie to help preserve it, she carefully zipped it into her jacket pocket. Junia didn’t intend to take even the slightest chance to damage or lose such an important item. She supposed she should notify the others of what she found right away, but considering her awkward exchange with Dr. Danforth and the others at dinner, she would rather not face them again soon if she could help it. Best to keep it with her for now and tell them tomorrow.

A loud knock on her door made her startle guiltily. Junia felt like laughing at herself - it’s not like she was hiding it from them on purpose, so what reason did she have to feel guilty? Shaking her head at herself, she glared at the door.

~~~

[beckstriad]

This or That: Comfort

Thanks @quirkykayleetam !! in hospital with team/friends/partner always there or at home in bed with team/friends/partner? -being that I work in/around a hospital it’s not as appealing for me in the whump I guess? And at home there’s that element of hovering worry that the hospital seems to alleviate. I’ll take any caretaker

hugging or face cupping? -Either as long as they’re desperate, worried etc. I went with hugging because clutching to their chest while the other is unconscious

whumpee relieved to be away from danger and mostly happy or whumpee still thinking the whumper is there and panicking (and friends reassuring they’re safe)? -all the better to blindside them

whumpee and caretaker on couch with blankets drinking a hot beverage or caretaker helping whumpee take a bath?   -I’m too private a person ig and too clinical at the same time so, snuggles it is

head in caretakers lap or leaning on their shoulder?  -Oh this is tough I love both. But leaning on shoulder gives so much more room for different kinds of relationships and context. 

hair stroking or forehead kisses? -Again, tough call (I love forehead kisses between two intimate people but hair stroking is more platonically OK for me)  -----and you never know when those fingers might tighten hmm? 

arm around caretakers shoulders “carry” or bridal carry or fireman carry?  -arm around shoulders is good. Bridal carry is hella harder than you think it is and the head flops around easily if you don’t have those large chest/biceps to lean it on (and you aren’t running). Unless they’re concious I guess but yea.  --Fireman carry is just comical like...yes. Please. Sack of potatoes yee I.....really suck at finding blogs to tag on Tumblr I barely make this hellsite work so uh..... @whump community whattup? Share your comfort?  Because I’m definitely not dishing much out ...

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Devil’s No 1(7)

Chapter 7: Abundance

Loki x fem!Reader, Bucky x fem!Reader

Theme: The definitions of devils, angels, demons etc. are twisted here in this world. But some things remain the same.

Series: Will contain violence, death, destruction, softness, fluff, smut, everything that my mind can conjure, really.

Chapter warnings: None... is a kink a warning?

A/N: This was written two years ago (I think) on @phantomrose96 ‘s prompt/situation of a shy girl summoning the devil to be friends with him (and something else that he does but I’ll leave that part out for you guys to have fun with). But I- being thirsty for tragedies- twisted things a little.

Word Count: Work tomorrow. ugh! Sundays always make me feel lonely. So lonely. I need a hug.

MASTERLIST in bio, love. Tags are open

credits to @russian-hiddlestoner for the picture

It was a journey. Through a tunnel, maybe? Or something deeper in the ground. Well, that's what it felt like. Like when you travelled in a train and passed a junction, or where the tracks met, maybe even a tunnel there! That was how you were feeling. Or rather, your conscience was feeling? Or should we call it your soul?

Let's just skip to the part where you felt it all and woke up.

...

WAKE UP!

A loud gasp rose from your lungs as your eyes threw themselves wide open.

"There you are," you heard the dark honey voice of the devil himself from somewhere around- hopefully he isn't still inside you, "I was worried about you."

By the layers in Loki's voice, you could clearly tell how he was mocking you but your brain was on too much of a spin to even consider registering that idea right now.

"Ughh," you responded, trying to get up from the sofa. "What happeuuh-" you barely stood straight before feeling yourself falling down again if not for Loki breaking your fall, catching you in his slender but surprisingly strong arms.

"Woah! Now, now. We haven't even had proper drinks yet."

You took the support of his arms- which were eerily stone-like under all that expensive fabric that he was wearing- and scrunched your nose as you stood up, this time slowly. "We had freaking Jagër didn't we?"

"And that's got you so blurry already," he announced, sitting down, and took you by your shoulder with him, causing you to look at him with a bit of a diluted and confused rage, "we really need to work on your drinking capacity."

You don't know who you shared a look with- God, an angel or any entity that was invisible right now- but you were certain of the age-old fact that the devil was not a good influence on you.

"That's the only way I get that thing out of your system."

Now hold on. What was that?

"What? What thing?"

Hmm...maybe not as bad an influence?

"That thing inside you make you all-" he flayed his hands like an English noble while scrunching his nose just a bit- "so depressing and boring."

Your neck hurt having to turn to look at him but your ego was taking none of it. "Excuse me?"

But did he show any empathy for you? Unless that devilish smirk- that was meant kill thousands of weak-hearted earthly creatures when gazed upon- was his way of showing you how he felt for you, he clearly wasn't anywhere close to 'e'.

Oh, what am I even expecting! And from whom?!

Loki turned to you and relaxed into the sofa, his back being supported by the arms of your comfortable furniture.

"So, humans don't count being saved by the devil from a demon empathy?"

The broken harp inside you made the worst possible sound any instrument could.

"Please stop doing that," you begged, turning away from his face, heat radiating from your cheeks from the embarrassment.

"Why?"

"Those are my private thoughts," you tried to stress but your voice broke.

Loki got up and leaned a little closer to you, making you shift a bit to the other side- never stopping him from leaning closer. "Oh but I like hearing how irresistible you find my form," he nearly moans into your ear.

Holy Buddha! Lord of mercy!

"Aw," he pretended to groan- quite seductively though- in your ears, "don't take his name," whispering while moving your stray strands of hair away from your face, "he always kills my party mood by giving me his eerie smile and asking me how I'm doing. Like he cares."

He nearly spat out the last sentence and you sat there with raised brows, wondering what choice had you made that brought you straight in the arms of the devil while he narrated his dislike for Buddha.

"It was a Wednesday and you had your exams that week," Loki began, still playing with your hair.

"No, stop!" You shifted to the other end of the couch, raising your leg over the sofa to block his body, "stop telling me what I chose wrong. Stop telling me how excessively great Buddha is and definitely stop reading my thoughts."

The rims of Loki's eyes light up in a fiery-green glow, looking at you with a tilted curiousness. "Are you ordering me, darling?"

Great. Now he brings his powers in play.

"I am requesting you," you stress, folding your hands in front of him, "this is really uncomfortable and my head hurts and...wait." The tone of your voice changed, so did that pleasing colour in your eyes that Loki was loving till you dropped it wear a hint of confused blue before turning into a suspicious grey. "What exactly did you do inside me?"

"Woah," Loki raised his brow, "I didn't know you were into those kind of...kinks."

You looked like a sad confused potato till it dawned on you how of context the devil was taking your words.

"Seriously? I am dying here from this unending pain and all you can think of is sex jokes," you nearly shout with whatever energy you have left inside you.

Loki flicked his finger and within seconds there were vines coming out of the floor, wrapping around your limbs like snakes ready to devour you whole. "Stop," you said with a hint of rage but the vines only grew tighter, beginning to dig into your skin. "Loki, please," you begged this time, watching them force your hands behind your back.

"Loki," you cried softly with just the right amount of fear burning in your eyes. Exactly what Loki wanted.

And so, he finally shifted, fixing his arms around you as his hovering figure came to a stop above you, blazing eyes looking at you with the intensity of burning everything between your skin and his.

"Do not forget, pet," he cooed, too close to you, "that I am the one who holds the chains to your life. And if I want, I can yank them as hard as I please because in the end, your cries will only deliver me pleasure."

You should have been afraid. You should have been shivering in fear and panic; your heart should have been pounding for watching death right in the eyes. But this scorching sensation that you felt inside you did not seem fear like. The shiver was definitely not because of panic or your nerves feeling this unhinged tide. And all you could do was look at him while blinking with visible stupidity, gulping down something to moisten your dry throat while Loki's eyes seemed to shift.

"See?" He nearly sang, "Now that's the colour I love to see." He inhaled your essence in, moaning as he felt it register inside him, making you question his senses- and for this one very discreet almost 'invisible in the darkness of the moonless night' reason, made you question yours. "Smells like the right amount of fear," he chuckled, "with a hint of something I can't really put my finger on."

Her kink of being tied up and aroused by you! Your insides shouted.

Shut up! Shut up!

"Hm," Loki looked at you with fresh eagerness, nearly killing you with the intensity of embarrassment about to explode inside your head, "I have to say you seem interesting to play with without your thoughts too. So, I'll keep this thing off till as long as I like."

He finally got up and away. You were relieved.

Danggit, your inner voice didn't seem, though, I thought he'll finally kiss you without context!

Awesome, you hit back at her, just the person I want you to be rooting for!

You know if she had a physical form, she would be rolling her eyes at you now because both of you knew you had felt something glow inside your chest- and heat up inside your legs- at the mention of being at his mercy.

Shaking your head, you tried to bring yourself to reality.

No, I am better than this. I have to be.

"So," Loki chugged a glass of your Jager, "what do you want to do now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm not going to wait for you to decide on getting drunk and all that because I know the moment you hit the limit you will be crying your eyes out and I am not in the mood to ruin my suit for pent up tears tonight," he declared, letting his hands show you the piece of work layering his body, "more critical tears of underpaid labourers and cattle have gone into the making of this."

You shared that look again, with no one, in particular, being done with the devil for the night and yet knowing that there were still so many more hours to go.

"Fine," you got up, realising the vines had long since vanished, leaving barely any scars on your wrists and ankles, "we can go somewhere then? Uhh...someplace you'd like to visit? There's a pizza place here that's open at this time of the night."

You went on and on while Loki's concern for you modified into a chuckle transforming into laughter. "Oh, you poor human. You are about to die in five days and you are still worried about the things I want to see? Honestly, woman, who died and made you the queen of ethics? Wait, is there a course for such things now?"

He wasn't wrong. Because he admitted it right now, it all started to seem more real. You were going to die in five days. He was going to take your soul to hell and God knows do what all with it. Peter's disappearance and your state then had created such a perfect picture for it to make sense but now...

"Are you having second thoughts, darling?"

His words broke you out of this nauseating spell that you cast upon yourself and you found yourself standing in the kitchenette with your shot glass in your hand looking down at the floor where broken glass lay in a puddle of water along with one of your ceramic angels. You picked up the ceramic figurine to look at, a familiar old ache replacing whatever little glow had risen inside your chest.

The angel seemed to be looking at you, begging you not to do this.

"Yes," you finally declared, throwing the figurine in the bin, "I'm sure."

.

The angel on the watch sat by the lake on the lone bench, going through his device, looking at various statistics while someone hummed in the back somewhere, going about its own business.

"And another one and another one and another bites the dust..."

The humming was not as serene for the angel at work as he wanted it to be, but he was trying to get through it somehow. It was a really special person after all. One couldn't just tell him to stop humming.

"Would you stop humming," the angel announced, "I am trying to work here, Peter!"

Everything went silent, letting the angle heave a sigh of relief and go back to his tablet.

The tree behind him rustled before Peter popped out of it upside down. "Whatcha dooooooin', Happy?"

"Tryna' work."

"Can I help?"

"You've helped us already."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. No go cuddle spiders...or something."

"Well, technically our friend did. You know, that woman who goes by the name-"

"Peter I just want a few moments of silence to track down what exactly does Tony want from that stupid-"

"Bad word."

"Excuse me?"

"You said stupid, put some of your essences in the swear jar."

"Yeah, right. That's not gonna happen. Now please just shut u-"

"Oh shoot! Happy-"

"Aha! Now you take out your essence young man and put them in the swear-"

"No, Happy, look!"

The angel followed Peter's gaze to the lake as he watched a figure soaking in it coming out with scars and wounds being healed by the water. The figure- a man, apparently- was heaving for breaths, his glass eyes searching for someone, anyone.

"Hello!" he shouted, the tiredness in his voice abruptly changing his pitch. "Is there anybody there?!"

"Should we let him in?" Peter asked in a whisper.

"Hello! Mr Stark?" he shouted again, catching Happy and Peter's hundred per cent attention, "it's me, Scott. Can you please let me in? There is some very very important news I have to share with you."

Happy turned to his device to open the gate of mirage.

The man, still tired as he was, lit up on seeing Peter and Happy standing in front of him.

"Oh! Thank God!" he almost cried, putting all his energy in his legs to walk towards, "thank you! Thank you so much! I need to s-speak to Tony Stark."

"Identification please," Happy announced, earning a confused stare from Peter.

"Happy, he can barely walk."

"I don't care. Whoever has to meet Tony has to go through me."

"But Happy!"

"It's okay," the man smiled at Peter, still breathing heavily, "it's okay."

"My name is Scott. Scott Lang. I'm Y/N's guardian angel," he declared before falling on the ground and losing all consciousness.