#i more dip my toes in ap than anything

[fourth-quartet]

Since you had a shitty day, here's some question from the weird questions for writers: 5, 8, 13, 19, 24, 33, 36, 39

thank you friend <3

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

i don't think i do, which is wild. i have habits that i have in relation to writing, but i don't have any particular superstitions.

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

i was gonna say dialogue for sure, but i actually have written an original fiction piece that was done entirely via dialogue, so.

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

i find darker themes and topics easier to write than lighter ones. i'm particularly bad with anything fluffy or soft without some kind of angst built into it. i just like conflict.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

once upon a time, a six year old took was in first grade. he liked writing so much, he volunteered to join the group of kids who were writing stories for the parents to hear on parent-teacher night. he read more than he did anything else, with his nose almost always buried in books.

he moved to a new country when he was nine, starting fourth grade, and really found his solace from constant, horrible bullying in books. he read and wrote as much as he could, going so far as to barely pay attention in his classes. he would go on to attend a weekend writing retreat in sixth grade, at age 11, and make one of the greatest friends he ever would - an actual adult, published author, who to this day, is still one of his biggest supporters.

that retreat cemented young took's love for writing, and his desire to take it somewhere with his life. alas, seventh and eighth grades would be pure hell for young took and he found comfort in LARPing and fanfiction, going so far as to spend his entire ninth grade (homeschooled) reading and writing fanfiction (he got an A in the class).

young took was in his senior year of high school in kentucky when he met the teacher who would change his life. despite having only just started writing poetry, took would shyly turn in some poetry for a creative writing assignment and his teacher (who also taught his ap lang class) would take him under his wing, mentoring him through the 4 class periods took would spend in that classroom a day. this teacher would nominate young took for the creative writing award for high school graduation, and would be excited to workshop his portfolio with him when took expressed interest in applying to art schools.

now, took is preparing to start a mfa in creative writing with a focus in fiction, attends a voluntary fiction class via zoom on monday nights (and has been since 2020!), and takes every chance he has to write.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

it depends on the story. sometimes it's nothing. sometimes it's extensive. sometimes i spend hours on research for a single sentence. sometimes i make shit up and ask people to forgive my ignorance.

i do enjoy prep work. recently i've been really into making powerpoints for characters in my original stories. it helps me visualize them (since i have absolutely no mental visualization at all).

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

i used to paint a lot. it tied into the poetry i wrote, because when i got extremely overwhelmed and would veer into shutdown territory, i would paint the voices of singers i liked. usually accompanied by a poem describing their voice as i saw it.

i also used to be an actor. i was very active in theater communities and i had just started dipping my toe into acting for film when i had to stop for numerous reasons.

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice…what do you Know?

so much literature. so much writing. i always enjoy writing about writers - just a touch too meta at times, always funny to write a scene about a writer procrastinating editing while i myself am procrastinating editing. throw onto that academia, gender, and sexuality, and you can wrap up what I Know in a nice little bow.

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

the knowledge that tomorrow will be different.

[hotgirlrry]

um

okay i figured out how to phrase this and its a doozy 

disclaimer: no hate towards op, this is a great learning opportunity and the point brought up is something that should be addressed and anyone who wants to know more should read this and this 

i just don't agree with the idea that no white passing poc exist, especially bc america’s system of race is too complicated. but what’s not complicated is that one’s race are their physical appearance and how others perceive them. 

i’m brownskin, i have a flat and big nose, i have coily and coarse hair, i have big lips. you can assume i’m black and you’d be right lol. mixed people can vary but most of them are lightskin, have looser hair texture, have lighter brown or light eyes, a more prominent nose, smaller lips for the post part. they are mixed.

someone like halsey (based on the tags) is 100% white passing. you wouldn’t know that she was a quadroon if you just saw a picture of her, but people know because she always says she’s mixed. there are no physical similarities between me and ashley besides having textured hair. she and other white passing people would not be called the n word, she wouldn’t be called a representative of her race, she won’t and hasn’t gone through the same experiences as anyone visibly black. she can live in society as a white woman because that’s how she is perceived.

the issue is a lot of people just found out about the word white passing and have been running with it when tbqh i dont think people understand what it means to be of a race. it isn’t pulling out your closest black relative or claiming mixed identity and saying you got black blood (”how you afro latino with no afro”) or claiming because you’re not #fffff with pin straight blonde hair that you’re ethnic because that’s not how it works

[yesimwriting]

The Needs of Pain

A/n as promised,,, here is my gift to you bc I finished ap gov today :))

The darkling x heartrender!reader story based on the whole ‘no one but me can hurt you’ thing :))

Warnings: sexual innuendos,, attempts to sexualize pain if you squint, kinda lemon-y

I kinda want to write a smutty part 2 let’s see lol 

Summary: after a training injury, Kirigan reveals how he views the dynamic of your relationship and figures out how to best help you work through the pian 

--

In an odd way, the most painful part of my injury had been the wound on my pride, not my shoulder. Though the pain that begins beneath my collarbone and continues down my left shoulder is not exactly pleasant. I can’t bring myself to pity myself too much as I stare at the extent of my burns. There’s a war going on. People die, people lose loved ones, I have to tolerate pain for an hour or two before a healer can be sent to be. 

I told Genya I’d be fine in the medical wing, but she insisted that I wait for a healer to be sent to me. The people here look up to me, if news of my injury got out, especially considering it’s a training wound, morale would take a blow we can’t currently afford. Genya had looked relatively sympathetic when she told me that many healers were occupied considering how difficult training had been and I had told her I could bear the weight. 

Now, in my room, staring at the basin full of water, I’m starting to regret my desire to be self sacrificing. I dip the towel in the water, squeezing out the excess before daring to dab the fabric on the outer edge of the wound. The feeling is fire against my skin all over again. An instinctual curse leaves me as I drop the towel on the counter that surrounds the basin. 

Arthur hadn’t meant it. I can still hear the frantic apologies tumbling from his full lips. He should have been more focused on the task at hand, he should have never stopped to look at me, at the way I could control so many living things at once. In some odd sense, his distraction had been a compliment. Many of the girls here would sell anything to have Arthur’s attention, even if it resulted in such a careless mistake. 

I grimace, picking up the towel and preparing to start again. I should at least clean it before the healers have to deal with both a physical injury and an infection. The sound of my door flying open and then shutting angrily is enough of a distraction for me to accidentally dab the towel against my skin too harshly. I curse again, turning my head towards the bathroom door. Did Genya exaggerate the severity of my wound? Are the healers that desperate to get to me? 

I turn on my toes, towel forgotten by the basen full of water as I approach the door that connects my room with the bathroom. “I’m--” Words meant to calm a frantic healer stick to the back of my throat as soon as I register all the black in the room. General Kirigan. Great. He no doubt heard about my injury after prying it from Genya and now he’s here to scold me for the childishness of it all. To be injured because a boy and I just couldn’t help ‘make eyes at each other’. All he does is insult my refusal to become bitter just because I was born possessing power. 

“You’re what?” His words are a different level of callous, darker than the shadows he creates with the will of his mind alone. “An idiot that let herself be sent back to her room instead of demanding to see a healer?” 

That’s an odd thing for him to focus his anger on. At least it’s not fully directed at me. On instinct, I half turn, attempting to hide my injury from his piercing eyes. My instinct tells me he should never see me so mortal. “Genya recommended it,” my words are determined yet calm, “It’s such a small injury it isn’t worth risking everyone’s morale. A healer will come here when one is available.” 

His face tightens in what must be some kind of disgusted disbelief. “Foolish girl--have you no instinct for preservation?” 

Every decision I’ve made since being injured made sense before he spoke to me. The fierceness of his voice leaves my face warmer than it was a moment ago and reminds me of the stem of my dislike for him. General Kirigan speaks and I am left a clumsy child. “Some things are more important than one’s self.” I expect he’ll turn that into something else to mock or belittle about me. “And it’s not a grave injury it’s barely--” 

The distance between us seemed so great less than a second ago, but he’s closed it so quickly, grabbing my left wrist and extending my arm forward so that I can’t hide anything from him. “You’re burned.” There’s the slightest bit of surprise coloring his words along with something else I can’t interpret. “How did you get burned?” 

Kirigan doesn’t know. My stomach knots, anticipating embarrassment. “Training incident--I was standing too close to an Inferni.” 

His grip on my arm tightens. I grimace as he pulls me forward with no regard for my injury. “Who?” The voracious way he says the word leaves my thoughts trembling. He is a void of darkness, starving for a victim to snuff the light out of.  

When my thoughts settle, I cannot bring myself to tell him the truth. “I didn’t see, I was distracted by the burning.” I exhale slowly, desperate to escape the flames behind his eyes the way I could not escape the fire of earlier. “It doesn’t matter, I’ve been injured worse in training.” His hold on my arm doesn’t loosen, I glance down at his hand, his firm grip on me somehow worse than the burn. “You’ve injured me worse in training.” 

“I may push you, exhaust you, and leave you mad--but I have never done anything that comes close to--that!” The last of his words carry themselves louder than the rest. 

If the skin of my shoulder wasn’t so sensitive I’d try fighting his tightening grasp. The accusation on my part had been a little much, but it was meant to serve as a reminder that he’s not one to care about my comfort or well being. “Why does it matter?” I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze. “You’ve never cared about any of my injuries before.” 

Kirigan releases my arm in a stiff trance, raising his hand to brush his thumb down my cheek. The contact is reminiscent of an extremely different moment. “The first night here you only let a few tears escape you when you were convinced that no one could see them. Do you remember how I turned and wordlessly wiped them away?” His gesture had not been comforting then and it isn’t comforting now. He never wanted to comfort me, he wanted to assert some strange power over me. “I let those tears fall because they were because of me and I knew it was for the best.” I say nothing, letting his thumb ghost tears that will not come. “The moment I discovered you, what you could be, you became mine.” 

“I am no one’s.” The reaction is instinctual, a pride my mother instilled in me. My voice is too loud, too brash. “I am my own.” 

I brace myself for his anger, but all I receive is the slight relaxation of his lips. “It’s things like that give you so much potential in other ways.” His voice is a jagged rock caressing my skin, not minding the scrapes it leaves behind. “You’re a fair plaything, as well as useful.”  

He’s speaking so gently his voice borders on vulnerable. Something in me warms, but I can’t tell why. I know that Kirigan finds joy in my discomfort--why else would he belittle me so often? “The healer will be here soon.” 

“Yes,” he makes no move to leave, instead Kirigan grabs my wrist again, forcing me to turn so that he can analyze the extent of my burn, “Which is why I will ask you again…” I try to catch his gaze, but his stone stare is focused on my burned shoulder entirely. “Who did this?” 

“I told you.” He can never know. “It was a training accident.” 

“And someone is responsible.” 

I let out a breath, tired of feeling so incomplete. I just want to be healed and go to sleep. “Why does it matter?” His fingers trail up my arm patiently, my body betrays me by shivering. “Accidents happen, you’ve put me in more risk than--” 

“I’ve always intended to break you one way or another,” his voice is more supple than it’s ever been before, “Your goodness is too tempting to not tarnish.” He turns my wrist over easily, ignoring my slight wince. “But if someone else were to do it…” Kirigan trails off, expression tightening in a way I can’t read, “I don’t let others break my play things.” 

Some strange resolve in my chest cracks at that. “Kirigan--” 

“Who are you protecting?” He moves his free hand, placing it without reservation on my shoulder. “Not telling me will only make it worse.” 

Thoughts of Arthur paying for such a small mistake leaves my stomach rolling in guilt. “Make what worse?” 

His expression tightens again. I wait for some kind of rebuke. Kirigan’s lips part as if he expects to criticize my naivety, but instead of speaking he turns sharply. He doesn't release his grip on my wrist as he leads me into my bathroom. 

“What are you doing?” 

Kirigan ignores my surprise, releasing me to pick up the towel I was so quick to abandon. “If you’re too good to take a healer from someone, you should at least avoid infection.” 

“I’m not an idiot, I was cleaning it.” The sharpness of my tone is ignored, Kirigan simply places one hand on my forearm to keep me in place. “Wha--”

 He brushes his thumb over my pulse gently in an effective attempt to silence me. I part my lips in hopes of protesting, but something odd reflects across his eyes. It must be some trick of the light because his expression seems...hesitant. Maybe even concerned. And then cool fabric is pressed into my burn. I bite my tongue so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t bleed. 

“Saints.” 

His expression shifts to that of almost amusement. “I think I’d like to hear you curse in a,” he exhales softly, fingertips trailing up my forearm, “Slightly different scenario.” 

The shock of such a bold innuendo clears my mind from thoughts of pain. But the most startling thing is that the innuendo isn’t entirely unwanted. In the wake of my surprise, he presses the wet towel into my wound again. I fight against a grimace, but that doesn’t go unnoticed by Kirigan. Instead of mentioning it, his free arm touches my uninjured shoulder. For the first time since he’s come here I’m aware of how improper my attire is. I changed out of my starched kefta and into a silk nightgown in order to leave my shoulder unbothered. Genya had helped me change, bearing all of my grimacing and pained curses. 

I should push him off of me. Kirigan can get away with a lot because of his status, but I by no means have to allow something like this. I should not feel shy, I should not be embarrassed. He’s the one that’s out of line. I look up into his eyes, prepared to yell at him for being so out of line. But when I meet his eyes, I see something so un-monstrous I am left breathless. There’s a gentleness to the way he tilts his head downwards, eyes never leaving mine. Is he asking for permission? Permission to--to what? I stay frozen as his lips brush against the unmarred side of my collarbone. His touch is almost enough to make me forget pain ever existed. He pulls away enough that I can feel his breath against the base of my neck. Thoughts I’d never dare speak are banished as the towel presses against my skin again. My face cringes immediately, but he’s quick to press his lips to the base of my neck, lingering kisses melting into my skin. 

“I thought you said you were fine.” His chiding is half-hearted, whispered between two brief kisses against my bare ski. 

He dabs the towel on the burn again, but before I can think to complain, his lips are against my skin again. This time, his lips part slightly allowing his teeth to graze over my pulse. Kirigan pulls away slightly, expression hardening, “I’m almost sorry about this part.” His words leave him in a whisper as influential as sin. 

“What part?” My voice feels foreign in my throat. 

Kirigan doesn’t reply, but then I feel the sharpest pain yet. The towel is cleaning the worst of the burn, the ruined patch of skin that will never recover without supernatural intervention. The gasp I let out is that of a bird with shattered wings. A cry forms in the base of my throat, but before it can leave me, Kirigan’s teeth bite into the skin above my pulse. The pained sound is reduced by my shock, twisting in an odd combination of some kind of pained sound and something dangerously close to a moan. 

He releases me with one last soft brush of his lips, straightening his back and retracting the towel. “There.” Kirigan drops the towel onto the bathroom counter. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

I can still feel the ghost of his lips, tongue, and teeth against my skin. I understand now. Each kiss had been a way to distract me, to lessen the pain. Something odd swells in my chest as I try to will my eyes to stop watering in pain. 

Kirigan presses his lips together, pressing his hand against my cheek again. His thumb brushes the few stray tears that escape me. “Don’t cry,” his tone is pure velvet, “I won’t tolerate tears in your eyes caused by anyone else.” He tilts his head oddly, hand sliding down my cheek before gripping my jaw, “I can provide reason for your tears if you’d like.” 

Inhaling deeply, I continue to stare at him. Today has been so sudden. He’s flirted with me through strangely sexual insults and threats before, but never has he been so forward about it. 

“I’m fine,” I force my voice to remain clear. He nods once. A soft rap at my door has me turning away from him. “The healer--I shoul--” 

“Come in,” he calls, voice clear and leaving no room for argument. 

My eyes widen. To be caught with him here could be detrimental for my reputation. Kirigan pulls away, something sharp playing at his features, something almost humorous. 

He leaves the bathroom like this is his own room. “Her wound is clean, work quickly.” I walk out of the bathroom in a strange trance. Kirigan’s gaze lands on me as I enter the main part of my room, “I need her at her full strength for what I have planned.” 

There’s a heaviness to his words, a weight that tells me he means more than what his words imply. Goosebumps erupt across my skin as I try to banish the thoughts of his mouth against my skin between inflictions of pain, blending together to create the most intense sense of fight or flight I’ve ever experienced. 

Kirigan begins to approach the door to my room. “I’ll be checking on her later.”

--

People that asked to be tagged in this/expressed interest:

@luminous-99 @voyevoda-thejoy @voidmalfoy @i-padfootblack-things @all-art-is-quite-useless @buckverse @mandowh0re @uhanddreag  

@we-love-our-bandz 

[scathecraw]

BBRae Week 2021 - Day 3: Into The Woods

“Summer camp has been so much fun, Rachel. Teether hasn’t cried once since the day after you dropped us off, and Tommy got first place in the obstacle course. You were right, we should have done a camp last year, too.” Melvin chattered excitedly on the office phone while Rachel listened patiently. “They’ve made a bunch of arts and crafts, and the woods here are so cool. They’re really old, and Gar knows so muchabout all the trees and animals and bugs.”

“And who is this Gar, Melvin? A new friendof yours?” Rachel’s emphasis was obvious, and Melvin’s blush was practically audible.

“NO! He’s a counselor. He’s really nice, but he’s really old. Like, 50 or something. You’ll meet him on parent’s day next week.”

Rachel didn’t remember anyone older than the director, a middle aged woman she had spoken to when getting them enrolled and again during drop-off. She suspected Melvin was fibbing to cover her embarrassment, but she brought it on herself by teasing the preteen. “I’m sure I will. Does this mean that you’re going to drag me out into the forest when I come? I thought it was going to be an afternoon of arts and crafts and then some campfire songs, not a forced march.”

“Duh. Arts and crafts are lame. Gar said that next year he’d show us how to whittle, which sounds better than making lanyards.” There was muffled adolescent shouting, and Melvin covered the receiver and yelled back. “I gotta go. We’re going swimming. I’ll call you on Friday. Love you, bye.” She hung up before anything could be said back, and Rachel was left with dead air while Melvin sprinted after her friends, untied shoelaces flailing behind her.

Arriving at the aforementioned “Parent’s Day”, Rachel wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The camp had at first seemed like a good way to get the three adopted children outside instead of rotting their brains, but the sheer noise of a few dozen milling, clamoring kids and groups of socializing parents made her wonder what she had subjected them, and by extension, herself, to. She was late, which probably didn’t help the situation, but she looked around the chaos in an effort to find her own three chaos engines. Instead, she was spotted.

A wild, dirty missile made a high-volume impact with her legs, nearly toppling her and babblingso fast that even Rachel’s practiced ear couldn’t discern what he was saying. She was wobbling and about to fall over when a firm hand caught her upper back and helped her regain her balance. “Teether, dude! I said you could go get her, not try to body slam her.”

Rachel finally planted her feet, acknowledged Teether with a gentle hand on his head, and looked up. And up. They both froze for an instant, but the tanned, blond man recovered first. His slack jaw snapped into a smile, and he said “Hi. You must be Rachel. I’m Gar, one of the counselors here.”

His hand was still on her back and heat radiated from it like afternoon sun. Her face had never fallen into the silly expression his had, but unconscious thought raced before she could regain her composure. ‘Definitely not fifty,’ she thought. “Hello. Yes, I’m Rachel, Teether’s mother.” She peeled Teether from her leg with practiced ease, and he sprang off of her and ran.

Gar realized that his hand still rested behind her, almost possessively, and retreated to a more respectable distance. He chuckled, nervously. “Heh. Um, Melvin and Tommy are with their friends, still, but we should probably get them. Ms. Waller asked me to show you around – she said you had just moved to the area?” It wasn’t a question, but he phrased it like it was. They began walking back towards the milling crowd of parents, children, and quite possibly enough noise to drown out a jet engine.

“Yes, it’s our first summer here. She mentioned that most of the kids made this an annual activity, but I didn’t think we’d be so strange as to warrant a personal detail.”

“Oh it’s nothing like that, it’s just that there’s not really many other summer camps around, and ‘cause we go from K-12, we get pretty much everyone. A lot of the other parents already know everybody. You’re not strange, just… new.” His eyes never left her, even as they began walking.

Back with the crowds, Melvin and a gaggle of similarly aged girls watch the two of them. One of them nodded decisively and turned to Melvin. “Okay. They’re too cute together. Look at how awkward they’re being.”

Anotherhuffed a little. “They’re just staring at each other. They should be holding hands or something, right?”

Melvin’s eyes narrowed critically. “It’s been like 10 minutes and they aren’t kissing yet. Gar’s probably too much of a nerd to do anything. We need to do something to make sure they know how perfect for each other they are.”

“Like what? They aren’t going to start making out in the middle of the crowd.”

An evil smirk crept across Melvin’s face. “Maybe not in the middle of the crowd, but what if they were all alone in the woods? Then they’d have no excuse not to!”

A look of awe crossed her companions’ faces. “That’s evil. I love it.”

But the smirk fell, half-formed plot evaporating. “But how could we get them out there alone? It can’t be anything serious, or else Rachel will ground me forever, and I bet she won’t even go unless we can trick her into it.”

“Could you just tell her you feel sick?”

“No.” Melvin shook her head slowly. “Then she’d either stay with me or just take me home early.”

One, heretofore silent, chimed in. “I think I know what we can do. But Mel, you’re going to have to make a lanyard.” She giggled at the disgusted look, and said “C’mon, we only have like 15 minutes before they start wondering where we are.”

Across the crowd and a million miles away, Garfield and Rachel were, in fact, being tremendously awkward as they watched the kids run and play. Gar fumbled his words and couldn’t decide to stare at her eyes, the curve of her neck, or decidedly anywhere except her. Rachel was the opposite. She answered in short, monosyllabic whispers and swallowed, trying to ease her desperately dry throat.

“So, uh, you said you just moved here! Do you have a job, er, of course you do, unless you don’t! That’s fine, too! Nothing wrong with… that. Yeah.” He trailed off, before gamely trying again. “So what do you do when you’re not, y’know, coming to summer camps?”

Rachel took a deep breath and centered herself. Gar started. “I’m not, like, annoying you, am I? I’m sorry, I tend to blabber -”

“No. I’m just… a little off-kilter. I’m a curator of antiquities at the museum.”

“That is so cool. Gar’s eyes were like dinner plates. “I love the museum! I always wanted to volunteer there, but I never feel like I have time between summers here and planning classes during the year.”

“Oh, you’re a teacher? Grade school or high school?”

“High school and occasionally some classes at the community college. I figured I was already teaching AP and college bio isn’t much different. I’m sure the kids get tired of me after the sixth year, though, heh.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, uncomfortably warm even for a summer afternoon.

“I suppose they wouldn’t let you teach so many years if you weren’t good at the job. Not that biology is my area of expertise.” She clarified, hearing his unspoken question. “I studied history and preservation, so a natural history museum is certainly a big change.”

“Wow, I bet. Still, nobody does what they expected to when they were in college. I got a bachelor’s in Environmental Science, but it turns out most of those jobs are just telling corporations what they want to hear.”

Rachel leveled him with a newly assessing gaze. “Believe it or not, so are quite a few jobs in archaeology. It’s what put me off of the field.”

“But hey, teaching led me to Jump and to Lake Titan Camp, so I can’t complain.”

While the two nominal adults conversed, a far more intricate conversation was happening in the craft cabin. Kole, a pink haired co-conspirator of Melvin’s, was creating a half finished lanyard in pink and purple while the rest strategized. “Okay, so I need to throw her off so she’ll agree. The pink and purple color scheme is good – pink for me, purple for her, but I need something to knock her off her game.”

“You could tell her something that surprised her, maybe. But what?”

Realization dawned. “Okay. This is a little mean, maybe, but I was planning on talking to her about it anyway. I know just what to say. Kole, how’s the lanyard coming?”

“I’ve got it to the perfect length. Just long enough that you might ‘Need a little while to finish it, pretty please.’” She held up the dangling lengths of string. “Everything ready? We’re running out of time.”

“Now or never. Let’s go.” Melvin took a deep breath and led them to the doorway.

Garfield and Rachel were deep in conversation. The initial awkwardness had faded, and while there were still sparks flying whenever they made eye contact, it was more a static buzz than the almost painful live wire sensation of their first glances. At some point they had migrated closer to where Teether and Tommy’s two groups had merged into a supercrowd of children all making noise, forcing them to stand closer to one another to be heard. They were in this huddle, all focus on each other except for both of their frequent check-in glances to the children. Rachel had dipped her toe into a hint of vulnerability to test the waters, quietly and without fanfare explaining that she had adopted all three of them from the same orphanage she had found herself aging out of.

Gar reciprocated. “That’s really incredible. I was adopted pretty young by some family friends. I know how complicated that sort of relationship can be, but it’s doing something amazing for all three of them.”

Melvin, seeing their closeness, hesitated, just a bit. She was messing with fate, a little. But she was certain it was for a good cause. And it was now or never, they were already cutting it close to “Shared Activity Time” for her age group. “Umm. Rachel.”

“Yes, Melvin?” Rachel saw that Mel was nervous. Melvin was never nervous.

“I want to finish a project for you, but won’t have time later. So, uh, I need you to find something else to do. During the Activity Time, I mean. I just want to finish making this. Please, M-mom?”

Time stopped for Rachel. She had adopted them six years ago, and there had never been a time when Melvin had consciously called her “Mom”. Forms asking for “Mother’s Name”, sure. Mother’s day celebrations, absolutely. Even a few mostly-asleep, teary pleas, but never, never while Melvin was in control of her faculties.

But while time had stopped for Rachel, it marched onward for everyone else. Melvin held her breath and waited for long, tense seconds, but Rachel didn’t seem to be coming back to her senses, so she hurriedly spat out “Okayloveyouseeyousoon,” and fled back to the safety of her friends.

Gar, too, was frozen. Not to the same degree, nor for the same reasons, but he felt like he had intruded on something intimate that he had no business being a part of. He looked around, helplessly as Rachel gaped. After several seconds of silence, he couldn’t not do something. “Uhh. Rachel? You… okay?” More frozen immobility. He waved a hand in front of her face. “Rae? You there? Do I need to get a doctor?”

She seized his hand. “Did… did she just call me “Mom”? Or did I have a stroke?”

“Yeah, ouch. She did. I’m guessing this was new?”

“I… Yes. She’s never… What… what do I do? Was she angry I didn’t answer? Where did she go?” Rachel began looking around for her.

“Whoa, slow down. She’s with her friends. She wasn’t mad, it seemed like she was nervous, but not scared. And what you do is let her come to you and talk to her like you always do, and just make sure she knows you’re okay with it. As long as you are okay with it, right?”

“Of course. I just thought...” Rachel trailed off.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about! She loves you and just told you how she feels. That’s a good thing. Let’s give her a chance to do whatever she’s doing. The rest of the kids are about to go do an activity, so we have time.”

“I think I need to get away from the crowd for a minute. I can’t believe I’m asking this, but is it alright if we just go for a walk?”

“Of course.” Gar’s grip had at some point shifted to be holding her hand back, and he led her down a dirt path towards a grove of trees. “This path is quiet and not too hard.” Her sudden harsh look had him follow up. “You’re not really wearing the shoes for hiking, Rae.”

“Hmf. And since when did I say you could call me Rae, Garfield?”

He looked stricken. “I am so sorry. I dunno what I was thinking, Ra-chel. Rachel.”

She narrowed an eye. “Rae is… acceptable, as far as diminutives go. Just don’t make a habit of it in public.”

“Cross my heart. Hey, at least being a little mad at me put your mind off of Melvin, right?”

“And now it’s right back. So very helpful,” she deadpanned.

“Easy come, easy go, right?” His smile grew a little. “I don’t wanna pry or anything, but is it really that surprising? She said you were her mom like, a dozen times during camp.”

“I suppose not. It caught me very off-guard, though. Teether and Tommy sort of switch between Rachel and Mom, but Melvin’s never really seemed like she even wanted that sort of, I don’t know, ‘Official’ title for me.”

“Listen, the whole ‘mom’ thing isn’t as scary as you’re making it out to be. You’re already giving her the kind of love a mom is supposed to, and she loves you. She talks about all the time with stars in her eyes. Being adopted doesn’t make her less your daughter. Rita Farr isn’t any less my mom for taking me in when I was eight, and Marie Logan isn’t any more or less important to me just because she’s not around.”

Rachel took a breath and sighed it out. “Thank you. That does make it easier.” They walked in silence for a short time. “Wait, Rita Farr, as in the movie star? As in, the philanthropist and art collector, married to Steve Dayton?”

He blushed a little. “Whoops, probably shouldn’ta dropped that so casually, I guess. Yeah. Steve and Rita adopted me when my parents died. It’s not always easy, but I love ‘em.” He watched her reaction carefully, hoping she wouldn’t suddenly start treating him differently for having such well-known parents.

Rachel schooled her face after having that bombshell dropped on her. “Well, if we ever meet we’ll be able to talk about some historic pieces she has that I wrote papers on.”

A beat passed, then Gar’s loud laugh broke relative silence of the forest. “Aw man, she is gonna love you.”

And just like that, the tension was broken. All the concern, the lack of balance, everything fell away, and the static buzz of easy conversation punctuated by something just a little too close to intimate for an average friendship was back.

They wandered together down the shady paths, miles away and only a few trees distant from the campground. Rachel didn’t notice the distance she had walked on the formerly dreaded forest hike, and Garfield forgot to try quite so hard with his jokes and wise cracks. They walked, hand in hand and only somewhat realizing how close they were to one another, shoulders nearly touching.

The spell was eventually broken, as they always are. They rounded a final bend, seeing in the distance the campground they had left, what, less than an hour ago? And the reality that they had left behind when they entered the sun-shafted canopies woke them up, and they found that really, their hands were quite slick. Had they been clasped together the whole time? And Rachel, especially, was starting to sweat from the heat and the walk. Garfield was suddenly nervous, after all, he never talked this much, not without making a fool of himself.

But even after emerging from that hazy dream, they held on, gently rising out of the fog and into the real world so no sudden movements could disrupt the memory, the closeness that two almost strangers that fit together like complementary puzzle pieces had shared.

It wasn’t even fully dispelled when their hands slipped apart to be wiped on cargo shorts or dark jeans, though the almost hidden flight from behind a few low-branched trees of blonde hair and untied shoelaces and quiet giggle quickly sobered them.

Garfield turned. “Was that -?”

“Melvin. Oh, that little brat, she is too damn smart for her own good. I would put money on her scheming to get us alone.” Rachel fumed and her face tightened into a mask of cold anger. “I can’t believe that she would manipulate me like this! How could she – How could she finally call me -” and the mask broke, shifting from anger to near tears in seconds.

Gar panicked. “Whoa, hold on, no. She’s not that cruel, I know it and so do you. We’re probably missing something. You just said you can’t believe she would do this – she probably didn’t. Rae I promise you, there’s got to be an explanation that makes sense.”

Rachel took a deep breath, followed by another, centering herself. “I am going to get to the bottom of this. Where would she be doing this “project” she made up?”

“The craft cabin. I’ll take you there, but I guarantee you it’s not as bad as it might sound.”

It was like the crowd parted for them without even reacting. No one looked at the worried counselor or at the steely featured parent, but nonetheless they found their path almost unimpeded. Gar held up a hand just outside the door. “Let me get you two some privacy. Please.”

“Fine. Do it.” Terse and unhappy, Rachel’s displeasure was apparent in her voice, and it made Garfield wince.

He opened the door to see five preteen girls, huddled and tittering. At least until they saw him and his serious frown. Then their eyes went wide, and they looked to Melvin in a panic. “Out, girls. Clear the room. Not you, Melvin.” He stopped her when she tried to take shelter in the middle of the pack. He turned to follow them, and glanced back almost pityingly, then shook his head and exited.

The girls all ducked their heads when they saw Rachel just outside the cabin and hurried off, racing to be the first around the corner and away from the ticking time bomb.

Garfield simply nodded, and left her to it. Rachel entered the cabin and saw Melvin almost trembling, and it broke her heart. She had worked up a head of steam on the walk and the wait, but seeing her precious daughter actually afraid stopped any real anger and left only a bitter emptiness.

Rachel wasn’t quite sure what to do with her hands. She settled on a vague, open armed shrug gesture. “Why, Mel? Was it just a prank? Just a way to manipulate me?”

Tears brimmed in Melvin’s eyes. “No, I just wanted to give you guys a chance to talk alone. I’m sorry I lied, I really did try on the lanyard, but I’m just bad at them so I had Kole do it. I’m sorry, I am.”

“What? What lanyard? Melvin, I don’t care if you had a friend help with a lanyard! I just can’t believe that you would call me your mom, just to trick me into talking to someone. I can’t tell you how badly that hurts me. I… I love you too much for that.”

“What!No, nononono, Mom, I promise that wasn’t a trick. I promise. I was gonna talk to you about it, but I just – I thought that if I – I thought that maybe if I just did it you’d just let me and maybe you’d talk to him and then it everything would be perfect. I promise. I love you, Mom. I do. And I was just trying to maybe make you not spend all your time watching me and talk to him. He’s really cool, and I could tell you like him, and he’s completely in love with you, and you’re perfect for each other. I was just trying to help you be happy!” She sobbed, breathless.

Rachel froze, then instinctively wrapped her daughter in her arms and let her cry. “Mel, you don’t need to worry about me. I am happy, I promise. I don’t need you to try to trick me into being happy. Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to say I’m not mad, but I get it. You don’t have to trick me into talking to, what did you call him, “really old, like 50 years old” guys? If we talk, we talk. That’s how adults work.”

“No, it’s not! I’ve never seen you go on a date, and you just ignore people when they try to talk to you. I know it was dumb, but I had to try something ‘cause otherwise you’d just give him that serious face until he ran away, and he’s perfect for you if you’d just give him a chance!”

“Mel. Mel, okay. I promise. I will give him a chance. But you don’t need to be worried about me. I don’t need a twelve year old playing matchmaker. You should be doing kid things, not bad romcom plots.”

“*SNRK*. They’re not bad. They’re sweet. And you like them, otherwise you wouldn’t have so many of them.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and glowered.

Rachel internally cursed Kori. “If you say so. Now let’s sit here for a minute, then we can go wash your face and you can go hand out with your friends. And I will have a talk with Garfield, and you will not stick your nose into my dating life. Understand?”

“Yes, mom.”

It still startled Rachel to hear that coming from Melvin, but it also warmed her heart. She hadn’t even known she wanted it until it happened, but it was like a spoken guarantee that she really was doing things right, and her little family really was working.

They sat together and Melvin showed her the lanyard that she had made via Kole. Rachel put it on the silver chain she wore around her neck and let it rest beside her heart promising mostly to herself that it would be kept safe at home. Then, when Mel had calmed down, they headed to the bathroom where Mel cleaned the tear tracks from her dirt-smudged face and rinsed her red rimmed eyes. Rachel gave her a final kiss on the forehead, and sent her off.

Gar found her standing there, staring off into space against the wall of the concrete shack. He leaned against it and slid down to sit around the corner and next to her. “So.”

“So,” she said back.

“Not saying it just to confuse you?” He glanced at her, gauging her reaction.

“No. But she wasn’t against confusing me.”

His eyebrow cocked. “Not mad?”

“Still mad. Still going to be grounded, probably. But she did it out of love.”

“Y’know, I don’t want to say I told you so, but...”

“But you totally want to say ‘I told you so,’” she finished for him.

“Yep. So what now?”

“Now, I guess I do what I was going to do before we had all this to deal with,” she said, the soul of nonchalance.

“What’s that?” he said, and when she didn’t respond, he stood up and looked around the corner. “Rae?”

“This.” with only his head around the corner, she turned and kissed him, gentle and sweet, and far too short for either of them. “I’d like to go out sometime. I want to take you to a behind the scenes at the museum, and I’ll let you choose the restaurant.”

His head spun and his eyes were out of focus. His thoughts were like molasses and he could barely get out the word “Okay.” before she was gone, a little bounce in her step.

AO3 FF.net

[vixenpen]

Fuck A Fan (Bakugo x Camgirl reader pt. 1)

You had gotten the idea from one of your best friends in the cam industry.

“You sure this will work?”

“Trust me boo,” he had replied, “sometimes the best motivation for a man is a little friendly competition.”

Your bestie had insisted that a fuck a fan contest would be the perfect way to get CallMeKing to finally make good on his unfulfilled promise to see you.

Putting the finishing touches on your flyer, you finally posted the announcement to all social media. You knew CMK was still lurking. So he’d definitely see it. Hopefully, this little contest would be enough to spark his interest, if this failed, you were going to scream.

Because for the first time in your cam career, a man had you chasing him.

The audacity!

To be fair, he did say that he wanted to see you too, but had to keep a low profile due to his career. He promised as soon as worked dialed down you guys would meet up.

Well that had been over a year ago, and not only had you guys not met face to face; he also didn’t seem to check in on you as much anymore.

He still tipped and re-subbed to your page. He had even cash-apped you money for Christmas and your birthday.

But aside from that, there were no more late night, sexting sessions, no more random check ins, no more nude trading.

At first, you brushed it off.

He was apparently a very successful man. Successful men were busy. They couldn’t give you every second of their time. As a successful woman, you could relate to that.

Not to mention, you were a bad bitch and bad bitches did not pine over any man.

PERIODTTT.

Buuuut...when the man in question was fine as hell with boulders for biceps, a big dick, and long money, well...you’d like to think the City Girls, Meg the Stallion, and all the other bad bitches you looked up to would understand your thirst.

“Alright, King,” you sat back in the furry, white computer chair and glared at your laptop screen. “Ball is in your court now.”

“Mr. Ground Zero, can I get a picture too?”

A precocious looking blue haired kid asked. He stared up at Katsuki with wide, hopeful eyes.

Katsuki grimaced.

“Whatever kid, c’mon.”

He leaned down, attempting to keep a safe distance from the walking germ pool, while keeping in the lens of his camera phone.

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

“Thanks a lot, Mr. Ground Zero!”

The kid giddily ran back to his group of friends.

Kirishima slung his arm around Bakugo’s shoulder, weighing down on his slightly shorter friend.

“Wow, Bakubro, looks like those public relations training classes have really been working, huh?”

“Whatever, I just don’t need anymore shitty press with kids.”

“You still have energy for happy hour with Sero and Me tonight?”

Bakugo replied with a noncommittal shrug. He scrolled absentmindedly through his phone as he and Kirishima headed towards their agencies to call it a day.

He decided to check in on (cam name’s) IG page to see how she was doing.

A pang of longing tugged at him. He missed her. A lot. Sure, she was a cam girl, and being friendly and flirty was her job, but she always brightened his days. With crime picking up steadily over the past year, Bakugo could use her presence in his life now more than ever, unfortunately, nothing in his schedule would permit it.

He was researching a new threat that had been developing in the crime world. Apparently the new mob of villains seemed to have some connections to the crime world in America, and Bakugo found himself flying back and forth to the west for meetings and to make media rounds to help put the public at ease.

His sleep schedule was completely out of whack with all the stress he was under, so any spare moment he wasn’t working, he was sleeping. Which meant no time for his virtual boo thing. Though he did try to make it known he was thinking about her with bill money.

As he flipped through her newest posts, something caught his eyes.

Fuck a fan contest? Winner gets to make content with me at secure location!

What the fuck was this shit?

Whatever it was, he was certainly going to get to the bottom of it when he got home.

CMK: Hey, (cam name) what’s this all about?

Y/N: what does it look like? Fuck a fan contest

CMK: fuck u mean? You don’t do meet ups!

Y/N: 🤷🏾‍♀️ first time for everything.

Anger hummed beneath Bakugo’s skin. Since when did y/n start doing meet ups? She had always told him she didn’t trust her fans as far as she could throw them.

He had encouraged her to not be forthcoming with personal information and never feel like she had to meet up with randos online for money. He would take care of anything she needed before it came to that.

So what was the meaning of this? Had he not been taking good enough care of her? Keeping her bills paid? Her nails and hair done?

Y/N: u entering or what? 👀

CMK: hell no im not entering and neither is anyone else. Now take that shit down.

Y/n: (voice note) first the fuck of all, you don’t tell me what to do. Second the fuck of all, do you know how much money is in this? You ain’t stopping my bag boo. Period! 💅🏾

He was practically seething. Who the fuck did she think she was talking to like that?

Who the fuck did she think she was saying no to?!

His dick stirred in his pants as he re-listened to the voice note of her cursing him out.

CMK: how much does it take to win?

Y/N: just whoever has the most.

CMK tipped $150,000

CMK: now take it the fuck down

Y/N: nobody else has entered yet.

CMK: nobody else up here has the money I have.

Y/N: if you’re not meeting with me, I ain’t takin it down.

CMK: god fucking dammit y/n. Tonight. 9pm. Text me the addy. I’ll have my driver pick you up.

True to his word, CMK had his driver pick you up an hour and a half before the time he had mentioned.

Your knee bounced, causing the black mini dress hugging your shapely thighs to ride up. You pulled it down absentmindedly.

You could count on one hand how many times you had been flown out by one of your fans. It certainly wasn’t a weekly occurrence for you the way it was for other models.

Fear and excitement fluttered in your stomach.

You wondered what the driver thought of you. Heading to this rich and powerful man’s house in the middle of the night.

You had tried to dress up as if you were going to be taken on a fancy date. Your hair styled, silver chandelier earrings dripping from your lobes to match the long silver necklace that dipped between your pushed up cleavage.

If the driver gave two shits, you at least hoped he thought you were going to get a nice meal before getting dicked down.

The community where CMK lived was on the outskirts of town; hidden in a forest of natural and manicured foliage. One could go literal miles between each home before they saw the next one.

You pressed your forehead against the window to take in the flora and fauna, manicured lawns, and huge mansions. So. Many. Styles. Of mansions!

“Here we are ma’am.” the driver announced.

He drove you up a looping, stone drive way that led to a very modern home that reminded you a bit of abstract art what with its odd angles, jutting sides, and square architecture.

The driver stepped out and opened your door. Once you were faced with the massive stairs and wooden doors before you, the song: Pretty Woman blared in your mind. You certainly felt that way.

Before you could knock, the door swung open revealing a pair of red eyes that were devouring your body head to toe.

“Oh my god...”

“Wasn’t expecting to hear that before I even touched you, beautiful.” He chuckled. His lips quirked into the cocky half smirk you’d grown familiar with from his interviews.

Was this real? Call me king was Ground Zero?!

“C-call me king?” You managed to stutter out pitifully.

“I would prefer to call you by your real name.” He joked. “Come in, beautiful.” He grabbed your hand gently and pulled you through the door.

You couldn’t even appreciate the high ceilings, polished wood floors, and tasteful stone wash colored furniture as you followed Ground Zero through the door.

He took leggy strides into the airy kitchen taking out a couple of glasses from a cupboard. You could only gawk.

He looked good as hell in his short sleeved denim button up shirt and ripped black jeans. His physique flexed under the well tailored clothes showing off the broad chest and bulging biceps you’d seen in the Nudes. His spiky Blonde hair looked soft and a bit damp.

“You wanna drink, beautiful?”

“I don’t accept drinks from new people in new environments.”

He looked up to shoot you a half smile. The usual mischief was missing from his red eyes, replaced with genuine affection.

“Of course you don’t. My (cam name.)”

“F/N,” you replied.

“Bout damn time you gave me a real name. Mine is Bakugo, babe.”

He strolled over with a glass of water for himself.

“So, f/n,” his ruby colored eyes darkened with a predatory gleam as he stepped right to your face. “Why don’t you have a seat? I promise the couch won’t bite.”

He brought a hand down to smack your round ass, making you jump.

“Can’t say the same for myself though.”

Licking your lips, you lowered yourself into the couch. Bakugo settled beside you so close the sides of your bodies touched. He draped an arm around your shoulder.

“I know you got a camsona and all, but damn, y/n, where’s my feisty little c/n? Huh? Lil Ms. Period!” His voice took on a lighter tone as he tried to imitate your twang.

The attempt earned him a giggle.

“Well excuse me, sir, but I wasn’t expecting the number two pro-hero in Japan to be my biggest fan.” You snapped back, playfully rolling your eyes. “Forgive me if I’m still wrapping my brain around it.”

“There’s that smart ass mouth I love so much.” He tucked your chin.

This close to him, you could feel his warm minty breath fanning against your lips. A familiar warmth was already growing between your legs.

Pulling away you asked: “Why me?”

“Hah?” His brows knit in confusion. “Fuck kinda question is that? What do you mean why you?”

“I mean, I’m a bad bitch or whatever, but I’m just...me and you’re...you.”

“Tch. You just answered your own damn question, dumb ass.” He tilted your face back towards him. You felt his other large hand roam the bare skin of your thigh and shivered.

“You’re a bad bitch. You don’t seem to forget that any other time, don’t fuckin’ forget it now, got that? Your confidence is what’s sexy about you.”

A smile tugged at your lips as heat flooded your cheeks.

“You know, when you’re not being a fuckin’ asshole, you can be pretty damn charming when you wanna be.”

“And when you’re not being a defiant little brat, you can be real fucking cute.”

A moan slipped from your glossy lips as his hand crept steadily up your thigh

“Please,” you leaned closer to him, “you love my brattiness.”

He scoffed, amused.

“I’ll show you just how much I like it.”

Without warning, Bakugo scooped you up. His large, rough hands dug into the soft flesh of your round ass as he straddled you on his lap.

Your wet, bare pussy pressed into his bulge as he stole a greedy kiss. Your gasp quickly morphed into a moan as desire burned in your core and flooded your entire body.

His tongue overtook your mouth effortlessly.

“No panties, huh, brat? I can feel you leaking through my jeans.”

“I hate panties,” you managed between kisses. “And bras.”

That little confession just inspired more arousal in Bakugo. He deposited you on the long couch and let his hot tongue snake along every sensitive bit of exposed flesh he could find. Goosebumps rose on your skin.

“Damn, beautiful,” he managed between kisses, “can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”

His bulge rubbed your aching clit deliciously.

You tugged his shirt up over his mess of blonde hair.

He grabbed the deep ‘V’ of your dress and ripped it open, drawing a gasp from you.

“Now we match.” He grinned

“You ass—“

“You’ll have a new outfit by tomorrow afternoon, now shut up.”

True to his word, Bakugo tasted every inch of you. He nibbled your ears making you shiver, licked your nipples making you hiss his name, and devoured your toes like blow pops.

Your body was trembling from sensory overload.

“God..” you moaned.

“You look like you want something, babe,” Bakugo smiled wickedly as he hovered above you. “What is it?”

“Eat me.”

[kevyfanfics]

Irondad Ending in Platonic Cuddles

Welcome to continuously whumping Peter for no particular reason other than we all want to see it :') Today's agenda is intrusive thoughts and a hint of sensory overload! And thank you so much for all the support so far, youre all super sweet!!

TW// if you're sensitive to Peter's guilt complex, intrusive thoughts, sensory overload, or anxiety attacks, please proceed with caution <3

This can be read at Irondad Ending in Platonic Cuddles  on AO3!! Have fun and stay safe🖤🤎❤️️🧡💛💚💙💜

---

Of course, during the weekend before finals, Peter's mind can't stop focusing on what he doesn't want to focus on. As he tries to study for anatomy, he somehow finds his head wandering back to psychology like a broken record, trying to decipher the same information that isn't too important in the grand scheme of things.

The rebel wants to change what's not working, reform, fix. I like fixing. I fix. Like Mr. Stark fixes. Fear is to be ineffectual. But the desire of the rebel is revenge. I don't want that. I don't do… The caregiver wants to protect everyone. I want to protect. What if I can't protect everyone? What if I can't get there in time? What if they- To be honest, he's losing his patience far quicker than he would on a normal day. Between his packed AP Finals schedule, patrols, workshop days, his annoying intrusive thoughts, and that damn leaking faucet down the hall, he's about ready to rip his hair out.

The first cranial nerve is Olfactory, a sensory nerve passing through the cribriform plate of the eth- He grips his hair between his fingers, hands trembling and knuckles going white, when he can hear a leaf blower at ground level. He's on the 48th floor.

Deep breaths. Just focus. Passes through the cribriform plate of the ethmoid bone and sends information ab- He jumps when a car alarm starts blaring and just about hurls his anatomy textbook out the window. Ripping his earbuds out, roughly sets them down on the coffee table and rocks slightly with his head in his hands. The motion is soothing and always helps to ground him when the world starts to careen out of his control. He focuses on breathing and not letting his emotions get the better of him. What he doesn't need is to lose his temper at the Tower or have full blown sensory overload. For now he simply lets the rocking do the trick. He ends up wiggling his toes, pressing them into the soles of his shoes over and over without even realizing it. Trying so desperately to keep ahold of his frustrations, his mind begins to wander back to psych class.

The hero wants to prove they're worthy. Courageous. I have to prove I can do it, I just don't know how. Every time I try I- The hero's greatest fear is weakness, vulnerability, failure, failure, failure-

"Hey, kiddo. How's the studying goin'? Decide on what you wanna order? Pizza? Burgers? Shawarma?" Peter continues his rocking despite Tony's sudden voice. Though, it does cut off the neverending string of thoughts that tend to take over at any second- Wait, no, that's the wrong word. Threaten. The neverending string of thoughts that threaten to take over. Threaten. Threaten. Threaten. The neverending string of thoughts that threaten- "You good?" Tony's confused, yet more attentive, voice interrupts again. Peter gains enough clarity to realize his legs are now bouncing rapidly, giving away his nervous energy. He's able to grasp on to the most honest, blunt answer he's probably ever given.

"No, I'm not," he answers through grit teeth to keep his frustration at bay. The straightforward answer must momentarily shock Tony into inaction because he can feel his mind begin to wander again and he vaguely realizes he needs to keep himself grounded. Feel the couch, my hair, my shoes, don't forget to breathe, but breathing is too much work I don't want-

"Okay…can I sit?"

What kind of question is that? It's his house he doesn't need to ask me. He doesn't need permission.

"I just wanted to make sure." Peter's anxiety-ridden movements come to a jarring halt. He's talking out loud and he doesn't even realize it. His grounding techniques aren't working. He's losing control. The couch dips and one of Peter's legs resumes its bouncing. "Do you want to talk about it?" What I want is my brain to just stop for one second I don't want to think anymore I just want it to stop. This time there's a lack of response, and Tony feels way out of his depth. Fast-paced anxiety attacks he can do, but this? He doesn't know what he's supposed to do. "Is it alright if I touch you?" He knows firsthand that sometimes he would rather pour boiling water over himself than have someone try to comfort him through touch when he's distressed, so he isn't all that surprised when Peter shakes his head.

That'd be too much. Too much input and feeling and hearing and thinking and-

"Overstimulated," he suddenly stumbles on. "Overstimulated and my brain won't stop." He desperately wants to explain it more than that, but even his own voice grates on his nerves. The fact that he can't articulate what's going on grates on his nerves. That damn faucet.

"Alright, I getcha, bud," Tony gently assures, noticing the huff of frustration from the teen and the self-reliant rocking picking back up. The motion is predictable, unlike his mind, so it's comforting. It quells the anxiety. Tony bites the inside of his cheek, not wanting to reveal what he's about to reveal, but his kid is more important. "Do you think a weighted blanket would help?"

"Weighted blanket? Why do you have a weighted blanket? I haven't-" Peter cuts himself off this time. He didn't mean to say all that out loud. It just kind of happened, like there's a disconnect between his mouth and his brain. "Mr. Stark, my arms are getting cold," he says before he truly processes it, completely blowing past Tony's previous question. Before Tony can respond, he barrels on. "When the body goes into fight-or-flight, blood pools at the center of the body to preserve vital organs, making the extremities feel cold," he all but recites. Tony then notices how quickly the kid's face begins to pale.

"Easy, kid, deep breaths," Tony urges, panic settling into his voice as he kneels directly in front of Peter. "I'm gonna need you to slow your breathing down a bit, okay?" Peter nods rapidly, wondering when he lost complete control of his breathing. Last time he checked he wasn't breathing and now he's breathing too fast and nothing is making sense and- "In through your nose, out through your mouth. C'mon, with me. In, out. In, there ya go, out." Peter does his best to follow his mentor's instructions, even though his gasping breaths don't feel like they're bringing any oxygen with them.

"Anxiety attack," Peter connects the dots again. "Too much, too much input." Tony nods encouragingly, wanting nothing more than to pull Peter into a hug.

"You're doing great, Peter. Do you need anything?" He doesn't know what to do, but he wants to help somehow.

"Existing is hard," Peter says as if nothing was asked, yet Tony's pained expression softens.

"Yeah…but I'm real proud of you for existing anyways. Even when it's rough." Peter nods, face scrunching up with a complex mix of emotions that he can't pinpoint.

"I, I think I'm ready for that hug now," he admits, voice cracking as the pressure of it all finally takes its toll. Tony doesn't hesitate to pull the kid into his arms as he cries it out, wrapped safely in his mentor's hold, still vibrating just under the surface. It doesn't take the anxieties away, but it certainly helps Peter regain some of his control. His leg stops bouncing, he doesn't feel cold anymore, and his brain doesn't feel like it's moving at a million miles a minute. Breathing still shaking and labored, he rests his head on Tony's chest as his mentor leans them into the couch.

"You can't keep putting this much pressure on yourself, Underoos. School isn't the be-all end-all," Tony carefully tries to reason with the workaholic high schooler. Peter lets out a breathy chuckle as tears slide down his cheeks.

"Says the guy who graduated MIT at my age," he reminds without hesitation, wiping his eyes. If anything, he feels behind for someone so often being referred to as a genius. Not like Tony, who was running an entire corporation at 21.

"And that got me nothing but a slip of paper and hell in a handbasket. Shitty social skills, independent to a fault, zero responsibility. Trust me, kid, you don't want to force yourself to grow up too fast." Tony sighs, his hand lightly resting in Peter's hair. Peter welcomes the touch, closing his eyes, and considers Tony's point. Maybe he has been putting too much pressure on himself.

"Hey, Mr. Stark?" he mumbles, light from the arc reactor casting a glow on his face.

"Hm?" Tony focuses on gently carding his hand through Peter's hair, carefully undoing the occasional knot.

"You're the best." Peter feels the hand still momentarily, then it continues.

"Then you haven't met you yet."

[grrover]

Title: you’re no better at swimming than you were in the beginning, but you come over at night and we practice all the breathing (Percy Jackson x Annabeth Chase)

Word Count: 7.3k

Summary:  “Well, it’s hard for me to be scared of something that you live in.”

 AU - Mortals, Neighbors

Author’s note: I was listening to Lorde’s “No Better” and the lyrics that I used for the title have always inspired me to create something, so I wrote this (closely based on those lyrics and loosley based on the song in general). I haven’t written fanfiction in 4 years, so I’m a little rusty. This was originally supposed to be a quick one-shot but quickly turned into something more, so I hope y’all enjoy!

[on AO3]

Annabeth was terrified of water. 

Swimming pool, pond, lake, ocean – it was all the same to her. It was as if the substance was alive, waiting to consume her whole. She wasn’t entirely sure when her vendetta against water had begun. Maybe it was during those infant swimming lessons her dad had attempted with her (the supposed reflex for baby Annabeth to flip herself onto her back just never kicked in). Maybe it was just her fear of the unknown because with Annabeth she had to know, and the fact that the most concrete fact about the ocean was that 95% of it was unknown wasn’t cutting it for her. She’ll stay on land. She’ll stay dry. She’ll stick to what she knew.

And that’s exactly what she did. That’s what she did when she was asked on her first date in the eighth grade, her step-mother nearly exploding with excitement as she stormed through Annabeth’s closet picking what she should wear, asking where he was taking her. The answer was initially going to be a ride on his boat, but Annabeth insisted on going to an arcade instead. She knew the place, she won all the games, he didn’t ask her out again. She knew he wouldn’t, she knew she could be intimidating… so why not test the waters?

That’s also what she did after Piper had grabbed her by the belt loops and kissed her at the beginning of ninth grade. She allowed herself to dip her toe into the unknown – just for a couple of months – exploring what could be a relationship with one of her closest friends. It was good, she liked girls, she knew she liked girls. But she also knew that Piper was not for her, not right now. She was better off as Annabeth’s friend. She knew that. And she knew Piper knew that too.

***

That’s not what she did when Percy Jackson moved next door the month before her sophomore year. Messy haired, browned skin, green-eyed Percy. She tried to observe him from the comfort of her window nook as he aided his parents in unpacking the moving truck. He was taller than his mother, even taller than his father, and appeared to be laughing at jokes said in passing. The corner of her lip curved into a slight smile – he was nice. It was then she decided to go introduce herself when she knew the time was right; when they were done unloading boxes.

She decided to go downstairs and do something else in the meantime, rather than risking having her snooping area found out by the new neighbors. As she began to sip on a cup of water at the kitchen island, her father and half-brother’s burst through the front door, both of them bubbling with excitement. 

“The new neighbors are so cool,” Matthew exclaimed, his twin brother, Bobby, nodding vigorously in agreement. 

So much for waiting for the right time. Yet, Annabeth couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement as well: new neighbors, cool new neighbors, with a son that was around her age. 

“Oh, really,” Annabeth rested against the island, raising her eyebrows in interest, “what’s so cool about them?”

By that point, Bobby and Matthew were nearly bouncing off the walls as they informed her of all the digestible, yet important details. Like how the son is her age, how they had just moved to San Francisco from New York City, how his name was Percy…

“And they have a massive pool in their yard. Percy said he’s going to teach us how to swim!”

Her dad just chuckled, putting a hand on both Bobby and Matthew’s shoulders as they walked closer towards the kitchen island together towards Annabeth, “Boys, you already know how to swim.”

“Annabeth doesn’t,” Bobby said as he hopped on a seat, Matthew followed suit. 

Annabeth narrowed her eyes, leaning towards the two of them from the opposite end of the island, blonde curls falling over her shoulders as she stared daggers at the twins, “Well did you tell him that?”

The lack of an answer from the two was all she needed, “I so don’t need to learn how to swim! Why would you tell him that?”

“Because you so do! He’s joining your school’s swim team so he knows his stuff,” Matthew rebutted. 

Fifth graders. Annabeth didn’t even have the time to murder them before her father sent her out to say hello. So, Annabeth stomped towards the house next door, her initial excitement about the new neighbors squashed by her annoyance for her little brothers. Of course, Percy’s a swimmer, of course, he’s going to her high school. The family was nowhere in sight outside, so Annabeth assumed that they had finished unloading the van – maybe timing worked in her favor after all.

She walked to the front door, lifting her fist to knock on it, but just as she did the door swung open and she was face to face with tall, messy-haired, browned skinned Percy. He had on a crisp olive green t-shirt, with black ripped jeans showing the scars and bruises scattered across his summer skin. His slightly overgrown jet black curls framed his face, a strand falling between his brows and resting right before the bridge of his nose. He was an unexpected hybrid between a skater boy and a surfer kid, belonging to both New York City yet appearing to be a California native simultaneously. Annabeth couldn’t help but notice the faded freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, ending perfectly under his sea-green eyes. Sea-green eyes… maybe the water wasn’t so bad after all.

Percy’s eyes darted from Annabeth’s raised fist (which she quickly lowered) to her face, his initial slight alarm turning into a pleasantly surprised grin.

“You must be Annabeth,” he said, looking down at her with mischief dancing across his eyes, “the sister who can’t swim.”

The water continued to be unbearable. 

***

“He looks like an idiot.”

“He looks like Annabeth’s type.”

Annabeth refused to look up from her sketchbook, definitely not because she was blushing, more because she was focused. AP 3-D Art and Design was one of the few classes where she could see both Piper and Thalia at the same time, with Piper being a freshman and Thalia being a senior. For Annabeth, it was a class taken to further her career, giving her the creative space and resources she needed to strengthen her architectural portfolio. For Thalia and Piper, well, they thought it would be easier. Yet with Piper never failing to have a ceramics piece explode in the kiln and Thalia’s hatred for the texture of slip, the two of them resorted to scrolling through Percy’s Instagram page.

The Jackson family had progressively started to spend more time with the Chases and, as a result, Percy and Annabeth had begun to spend more time together as well. It startled Annabeth to her core that she had begun to trust Percy so much in such a short period of time.

“I have mommy issues,” she said to him one summer day, partially a joke, partially a bitter nod to her biological mother who had abandoned her and her father. She didn’t remember the conversation that prompted her to say this, and she wasn’t entirely sure what she expected to get out of Percy with that line. The two of them were merely lying on the loungers in Annabeth’s backyard: Annabeth with sunglasses on, staring up at the sky trying to soak up in the last few moments of summer freedom, Percy glistening with beads of water across his body because he had just lifted himself out of his pool before sprinting to Annabeth’s side to shake himself off on her. She was annoyed, yes, but the youthful laughter that spilled out from Percy’s lips upon seeing her frustration melted away all feelings of indignation.

So with all things considered, Annabeth expected an awkward laugh at least, maybe an equivalent joke about Percy’s own parental issues at best. Family problems had been one of their first bonding points, after all. But instead, Percy rolled onto his side to face Annabeth and asked in a charming yet cautious voice for Annabeth to take off her sunglasses. 

After gazing into her eyes, after seeing what was truly behind that statement, he simply asked “Do you want to talk about her?”

And that’s all Annabeth needed that afternoon.

What she didn’t need was Thalia and Piper scrolling through Percy’s Instagram page when they should be doing their work.

“Please don’t like anything on accident,” Annabeth begged as she leaned over to look at the picture Piper had pulled up. It was Percy submerged in the blue of the ocean, fish swarming around his body as he flashed a peace sign at the camera. He was wearing a wetsuit and scuba diving gear, his fin-wearing feet floating beneath him, brushing the coral and sand that lay at the bottom, as his upper body turned towards the camera. And despite the regulator that covered his mouth Annabeth could tell he was wearing a shit-eating grin based off of the gleam of excitement and mischief present in his eyes. Percy fucking Jackson.

“He’s definitely an idiot, Thalia, and he’s definitely not my type, Piper,” Annabeth replied before assuming the position she had before, going back to her sketch. 

“Oh, no, I think he’s your type,” Thalia corrected as she plucked Piper’s phone from her hands and continued to scroll down the page, “But I also think he’s an idiot. You guys would even each other out in every sense.”

She put extra emphasis on the last two words right as she turned the phone towards Annabeth, showing a similar scuba diving picture as before – God, is that all this boy could do? – that was captioned “I basically live in the water.”

Annabeth hated the water almost as much as she hated how perfect Percy’s loose curls looked floating in it.

***

The end of Annabeth and Percy’s sophomore year was bookmarked by a Jackson-Chase “End-of-Year” and “Thalia’s-Actually-Graduating” hybrid celebration. The two families opened up their fences so all invited parties could easily go in and out between the two yards, with a barbeque in the Chase backyard and the pool in the Jackson backyard being a center of wet, splashing, chaos. Annabeth’s father was at the grill rotating hot dogs and burgers, using Annabeth’s Yankees baseball cap to keep his hair out of his face in the midst of the newfound barely-even-summer-yet heat. In the distance, Annabeth could hear Bobby and Matthew hitting the surface of the Jacksons’ above ground pool, screeching and giggling as they blasted Percy with the water soakers he had gifted them earlier in the day.

“In honor of your fifth-grade graduation and the fact that I am no longer thirteen years old,” he had said in an obnoxiously declarative tone, emerging from his backdoor, a water soaker in each hand. He had the same shit-eating grin he had on in all his scuba diving photos – not that Annabeth had studied them periodically ever since that one conversation with Thalia and Piper, she would never – and his hair was beginning to become overgrown once again. 

Her brother’s beaming faces almost put Percy’s own smile to shame as they each took one as Percy finished his statement with, “Plus, I have a spare one that I can use to attack Annabeth with.”

He turned towards her and winked as her brothers voiced their gratitude and dashed to Annabeth’s kitchen to fill up their new weapons with the fatal substance.

“You need a haircut,” Annabeth said as she reached up on her tiptoes to brush Percy’s loose curls out of his face with her fingers.

“I like having my hair like this in the summer,” Percy replied, taking Annabeth’s wrist in his hand and lowering it away from his forehead, “You think it makes me look more like a Californian?”

Annabeth blamed the burning of her cheeks on the sun – God, why was it so hot today? – and nodded slowly, “Oh, yeah, I noticed the overgrown hair look in the summer. Does it make scuba diving any less terrifying, or are you just part fish? Would explain the small brain.”

She didn’t realize what her words had insinuated until Percy raised his eyebrows at her, the shit-eating grin finding its way back onto his newly freckled face. He hadn’t posted scuba diving pictures since before he moved to San Francisco at the end of last summer, and they were very much buried in his feed. The sun suddenly got a lot hotter.

So now, in the midst of this Jackson-Chase hybrid celebration, Annabeth hoped that her brothers would blast Percy with their water guns so hard that he lost all memory of that conversation. Maybe she was overreacting, maybe just a little bit, but she couldn’t have Percy Jackson thinking that she liked him or anything… unless he liked her.

Annabeth aggressively bit into her vaguely burnt hot dog. Fuck, she thought, examining the scene that played out in front of her. The sun had begun to set, leaving a hazy pink mark on the horizon as a crisp warm air flooded the backyards. Piper was sitting on the table in Annabeth’s backyard (no matter how many times Annabeth’s step-mother told Piper to not do so, she never listened), facing Thalia’s little brother, Jason, who was sitting on the chair in front of her. They seemed to be caught up in an interesting conversation, based upon the sly smile and glimmer in Piper’s eyes and Jason’s animated gestures. Her father had finished grilling and was now caught up in a conversation with Thalia’s parents and Paul, Percy’s step-father.

“I had no doubt in my mind Thalia was going to graduate, I swear!” Annabeth’s father exclaimed, 

She smiled softly to herself. How bittersweet; Thalia, her mentor, her best friend, was leaving her, and it was beginning to seem like the end of an era, but maybe it was only the beginning of something else. She could still hear the shrieks and splashes coming from the Jackson side of the party, the sounds of wet feet dashing across their’ evergreen grass. Annabeth could even hear Thalia joining in on whatever rambunctious game Percy and her brothers had invented with their water soakers, screaming at Percy about how idiotic he was before more splashing took place. 

Maybe this was the beginning of Annabeth’s new era, one that had Percy Jackson in it. One that was filled with more talks like the one she had about her mother and the dozens more that followed, where she could just talk and Percy just listened, staring up at her with sea-green eyes that somehow managed to whisper all the right words in her ear. One that would allow her to continue fostering the undeniable bond that she and Percy had formed in the handful of months since he moved in next door, the bond that allowed him to let tears stream down his face as Annabeth watched and stroked his arm. She didn’t always entirely know what to say to him, and that killed her, but Percy told her that that was okay, that her just being there helped. She knew how to just be there, and she knew she wouldn’t forget how to anytime soon, either.

Maybe she did like Percy Jackson.

Maybe she could go inside the pool.

She already had on a purple swimsuit under her athletic shorts, all she need to do was go over there and dive in. Piper and Jason had already fled to the pool party side and all the adults had migrated to the Chase backyard. Annabeth jumped up and brushed her hands off on her shorts, she was going to do it. She marched towards the Jacksons’ yard and through the fence, and before her eyes could even register what was occurring she was met with three water soakers blasting her chest, stomach, and face.

“Oh my god, wait!” she screamed, putting her hands up in a pathetic attempt to stop the assault. But her screams soon dissolved into unmistakable laughter as she darted across the yard. Percy and her brothers chased after her, unforgiving with the pressure of their soakers. Piper, Jason, and Thalia picked sides from their spots inside the pool, shouting different tactics at the four players in the relentless game of chase.

“The pool is the safe spot!” Jason shouted at Annabeth, “Get in!”

He didn’t know about Annabeth’s irrational fear, fair enough. But maybe this was her cue, after all, the pool wasn’t deep, it’s not like she could drown, and if all else fails Thalia was in there to save her. Those were facts. She knew she would be fine in this pool, Percy Jackson’s above ground pool. With that, Annabeth managed to outrun Percy and her brothers and dart up the ladder of the pool before launching herself into the water.

And Annabeth wasn’t going to lie, the water was freezing and, for a split second, she was terrified. Then she felt Thalia’s warm hand on her shoulder from above the water, the laughter of all her friends, the laughter of Percy, distorted from underneath the surface. Annabeth was fine, she knew that. She broke the surface, greeting her stunned brothers and an entertained Percy Jackson with a stuck-out tongue and middle finger. Pool water, especially Percy Jackson’s above ground pool water, wasn’t that unbearable after all. 

Within the next couple of hours, Annabeth’s step-mother came to put her brothers to bed, Annabeth’s father had cleaned up from the barbeque in their backyard, the Graces had gone home, and Piper’s father sent a driver to pick her up.

“Famous father things,” Piper sighed before giving Annabeth a warm hug and jogging to the car, towel around her neck. 

Soon, it was just Annabeth and Percy in her kitchen, soaking wet with towels around the necks. Percy’s curls were weighed down by the water, sticking to his forehead. Annabeth’s blonde curls were in a similar fashion, except slicked down to the back of her head, neck, and down her back. They were both cupping mugs of tea as they sat at the kitchen island, shivering due to the cool wind that came with the near-summer nights (it probably didn’t help that Annabeth left the back sliding door wide open). She knew her step-mother would be furious that she and Percy had tracked in water from the pool, but at that moment Annabeth didn’t care. She didn’t even think about it. All she could think about was how she and Percy had stayed in the pool by themselves, hours after everybody had left, and now it was midnight and Percy Jackson was in her kitchen drinking tea with water droplets glistening all over his arms and chest with his freckles coming in across his nose and on his cheeks and his sea-green eyes looking down at her.

Annabeth knew that she was staring up at Percy as if he was the sun itself, and in a way he was. It was midnight and Percy Jackson was the sun itself. Percy Jackson’s pool water wasn’t that unbearable. The most nervewracking and electrifying part about the entire interaction was that Percy was staring right back at her, sipping his tea carefully as he tried to crack the code that was Annabeth Chase, but Annabeth hadn’t even begun to crack it herself yet.

Percy was the first one to break it – whatever it was – and put his mug down on the island with a soft clank.

“So...,” he started, and Annabeth couldn’t help but notice the bead of water that ran along the curvature of his cheek, “those swimming lessons your brother’s signed you up for last summer…?”

He looked back down at her, his usual easy and playful demeanor was replaced with a mysterious and calculating gaze and Annabeth didn’t know. She didn’t know why he looked at her like that and why she looked at him like that. She didn’t know how to handle all that was Percy – he was unknown to her in every sense. He had just moved in not even a year ago and yet she had confided in him about everything and he did the same. He knew her just as well as Piper and Thalia did, and they had known Annabeth for years, what was the logic behind that? That’s what was terrifying, there was no logic to what she felt for Percy Jackson. Every nerve in her body was telling her to go to bed, tell Percy goodnight and end whatever was going on right now because she did not know where this was going. She wanted to go back onto the dry land, forget the ocean.

She looked up at Percy and pressed her lips together in a small smile, “I believe I’ll be taking them… Mr. Jackson, is it?”

The playful and shit-eating grin crashed right back into Percy’s face and Annabeth couldn’t help but notice how close they were. How she suddenly noticed the water droplets decorating his lashes and the slight pink flush that was beginning to flood the area where Percy’s freckles were sprinkled across his nose and cheeks and underneath his eyes. She also noticed how easy it would be to lean in, to grab him by the back of his sunkissed neck decorated in water droplets that the midnight light hit just right and kiss him. And she knew Percy had the same idea as well. 

And then the upstairs light flickered on and Percy jumped out of his seat.

“So, swimming lessons,” he sputtered out.

“Tomorrow?” Annabeth asked.

He grabbed his towel and attempted to return to his playful and nonchalant stance as his eyes flickered nervously up towards the staircase, and Annabeth couldn’t help but wonder which family member she had to strangle once she got upstairs, “Tomorrow.”

So that summer they had swimming lessons. Annabeth learned how to back float and Percy even began to show her proper form, detailing what do do if she ever found herself drowning. Honestly? Annabeth couldn’t care less about the different types of strokes and what makes a bad or good form. She did care about how Percy held her up in the water as he guided her arms and legs, informing her on all things swimming with his mouth close to her ear. And Annabeth could feel her ratio between knowing and unknowing grow larger, but one thing she did know for sure was that Percy Jackson’s above ground pool water wasn’t unbearable.

***

The next summer Percy Jackson’s above ground pool was replaced with an inground pool that had no shallow end, and it was as if Annabeth could see the number that represented the things she knew now and the number that represented the things she didn’t know now grow further apart in distance right before her eyes. She tried to describe her frustration to Piper and Thalia who, upon Thalia coming back from college for the summer, were at the Chase residence almost all the time now.

“It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Piper said, sitting in the very nook that Annabeth sat in the day she watched the Jacksons move in next door. Piper looked out the window at the Jackson residence, “Plus you have an attractive swim team coming, like, twice a week now if that’s any consolation.”

Thalia made a face from her position on Annabeth’s bed, probably because she knew that Piper had a thing with her little brother at the moment. She had been concentrating on painting her nails a sickening shade of duo chromatic black and electrifying blue but flicked her eyes upwards to glance at Piper.

“For Annabeth! Not for me.”

Annabeth was being overreactive and selfish, this she knew, which is why she didn’t voice her feelings to Percy. His mom had gotten the inground pool installed in celebration for Percy being named captain of the swim team at the end of their junior year. It was also just convenient now considering that since he was the new captain, he would be able to host the team at his house. Annabeth remembered the youthful excitement that his voice carried as he told her. They were lying on Annabeth’s bed in opposite directions with their heads positioned next to one another’s. Percy had reached up to rest his hand on Annabeth’s curls as they both stared up at the ceiling and reflected on their now completed junior year. And she really was happy for him, ecstatic even. When she heard the pride that dripped from Percy’s voice as he talked about the swim team, his swim team… How could she not be? She didn’t even need to look at his face to know how genuinely happy he was, and between that and his fingers tangled in her hair, all resentment towards the inground pool had dissipated for a small moment.

All the resentment stormed back when she saw that Rachel Dare was on the swim team. She was all curly red hair, freckles, and high cut blue swimsuits. Annabeth was attracted to her yet utterly envious of her without an ounce of logic to back up her reasoning – Rachel had a girlfriend – and it was driving her insane. Add five to the “things she didn’t know” side of the ratio: why does Rachel Dare drive her crazy if she posed no threat? Why did she even feel that there were “threats” to her relationship with Percy? If she and Percy almost kissed last summer then why didn’t she bring it up? Why didn’t he bring it up? Why does she not remember anything from their swimming lessons?

“Well that won’t help,” Thalia said knowingly, examining her nails, “the only swimmer Annabeth pays attention to has lived next door the whole time.”

Annabeth felt her face begin to warm up at that statement, and it only got hotter when Piper turned from the window to smirk at Annabeth, who was seated on the carpet, “Yeah, ever since Percy developed an Apollo’s belt and a bit of abs–.”

“Okay! God!” Annabeth glared at her two friends.

She did owe them, though; that’s the answer to number five. Plus one for “things she knew”, minus one for “things she didn’t know”. There was a direct relationship between the amount of time Percy and Annabeth lived next to each other and how serious he had become about swimming, and, boy, were the results evident. Even outside of his physical appearance, Percy finished his junior year with colleges scouting him to swim on their teams. 

Annabeth remembered the amount of disbelief Percy was in, growing teary-eyed after he hung up from his phone call with UC San Diego. He came crashing into her house, insisting that he needed to be with her when he picked up the phone, claiming that he needed her to be there to comfort him after he fucked it all up. He lay stomach-down on her bed and Annabeth stood in front of him, hands on his shoulders, rubbing circles into his back with her thumbs – he was so fucking tense – as she gazed down at him. He softly put down the phone to his side before pulling Annabeth in by the waist to hug her. Full body sobs shook through him as he cried into her shirt, burying his face deeper and deeper into Annabeth’s stomach, shaking his head. He didn’t need to say anything, Annabeth knew.

“They want me.” His voice was barely a whisper, and if Annabeth wasn’t constantly hyper-focused on Percy’s every move she would have missed it. “They really want me.”

“I know,” Annabeth put her head towards her ceiling, smiling. “I am so proud of you, Seaweed Brain.”

He had begun scuba diving again, and the nickname arose after he returned from one of his day trips. He had sent her a brand new photograph, same shit-eating grin hidden behind all the gear, fins flapping in the water, and two big thumbs up as he posed with a cluster of seaweed. So you don’t have to stalk my Instagram anymore, he had said to her. Annabeth couldn’t get enough.

“Visit me,” he had whispered.

She would have walked off the nonexistent end of the world if he had asked her to. Plus one to “things she didn’t know”: why did he have this power over her? Maybe Piper and Thalia would know the answer to this one, as well. So Annabeth told them about UC San Diego, she told them about the swimming “lessons”, she told them about the red hair, freckles, and high cut blue swimsuits.

And they looked at her like she was stupid.

“Maybe we should all be shocked when Annabeth graduates,” Thalia snorted, finally closing the bottle of nail polish and rolling it around in her hands. “All smarts and logic but can’t see what’s right in front of her.”

Annabeth blinked, unsure what to make of Thalia’s statement. She had equipped her logic – at least she tried to – to no avail. It couldn’t be the length of time she knew Percy that made her feel this way because when she wanted so badly to feel this way about Piper freshman year it didn’t work, and she had known Piper for longer. It couldn’t be due to Percy telling her everything about himself and the way to care about him, because she just knew those things, she picked up on all the little details. He never needed to tell her. Annabeth ran her fingers along the carpet and tried to continue racking her brain but nothing made sense, nothing made sense except for–.

Oh.

“You love him, and he loves you,” Piper said, turning her attention away from Annabeth to look out at the Jackson residence yet again. “Geez. I thought you knew but were just scared. Or playing dumb.”

Fucking hell. She had been doing a little bit of both; plus one to “things she knew”. 

Piper and Thalia had left her house that night with a vague threat along the lines of Annabeth having to do something about the Percy situation before they did. She had texted them both later, asking for them to give her a couple of days. She needed time to process, to think, to evaluate all the points where she had known about what she felt for Percy without actually knowing; not in the way she needed to have known anyways. Both their responses could be summarized with the words don’t overthink it.

So, of course, Annabeth took that with a grain of salt and dove straight into overthinking. She tried to find the exact moment she started to love him (Was it when they talked about her biological mother? Drinking tea at midnight, cold and soaking wet? Or was it when he drove her around in Paul’s car, promising that he wouldn’t crash it as long as she was inside?). She also tried to find the reason for why she didn’t consider love the answer for so long (Does love defy logic? Was she scared of it?). She tried to find the reasoning behind why Percy hadn’t made the first move if Piper was right; if he did love her (Well why didn’t Annabeth? If she loved him?). She was going in circles. The bridge between the low number of “things she knew” and the ever-increasing number of “things she did not know” grew so undeniably large that no architectural design that Annabeth could ever sketch would resolve it.

Days after Piper and Thalia’s big reveal, Annabeth returned to the window nook where she first saw the Jacksons move in. She hoped that it would help her arrive at all the answers, turning all her “things she did not know” into “things she knew” because she could not take anymore unknowns. She hated unknowns. All Percy Jackson brought with him from the day she first laid eyes on him were unknowns, yet she loved him. Plus one. Annabeth had a mug of tea cupped in her hands as she stared out the window, sipping is gingerly. Before Percy, this had been Annabeth’s space, this was the space where she came to all major realizations at. It comforted her then and she believed that it would now. 

So when she saw Rachel Dare pull up to Percy’s driveway in her white Mercedes with her deadly red-haired-freckled-high-cut-blue-swimsuit-under-denim-shorts combo, Annabeth thought that was her spot giving her a huge middle finger. Annabeth was projecting her own issues onto Rachel, she knew that, so why was envy still burning in her chest? She watched as Percy walked out to greet Rachel, giving her a hug from the side, before the two raced to his backyard. Probably to cannonball into Percy’s eleven-feet deep pool. Percy and Rachel knew where they stood, they had the ability to dive right in because there was no need to hesitate.

So why was Annabeth hesitating with Percy?

She loved him. People had been trying to figure out what the fuck love was since the beginning of time, through science, poetry, prose, and paintings. It was confusing, it was messy, it was unknown. Annabeth knew this. She loved Percy Jackson. Her “things she knew” and “things she did not know” were never going to be concrete as long as she loved, as long as other people kept loving. It was going to fluctuate, it was neither here nor there. She loved Percy Jackson. She knew this. That’s all that she needed. Sure, she did not know all the answers to everything involving love until love was figured out – until someone finally knows all there is to know about love. But that wasn’t her job. Not right now. Right now, she only had one job.

Meet me at your pool at midnight, she texted Percy. Percy Jackson’s eleven-feet deep inground pool was bearable. It was more than bearable, it was what she needed. She just hoped she remembered those above ground pool swimming lessons.

***

Annabeth and Percy’s friendship had helped her get better at sneaking out at night. Not that they were doing anything forbidden, at least most of the time. The two of them just appreciated each other’s company best when there were no distractions; when the world stood at a weird limbo where it felt like it only belonged to those who were awake at that moment. Annabeth only wanted to share those moments with Percy, and he admitted that he felt the same. So, those moments became their time. 

Annabeth climbed over the Jacksons’ wooden fence like she had done so many times before. She was aware that Percy probably – definitely – left the gate unlocked since he was expecting her, but Annabeth needed the extra adrenaline rush for what she was about to do. She walked to the edge of the pool, the eleven-feet deep pool. The water glistened under the moon, and Annabeth knew that despite the hot summer air the pool would be freezing. She took off her athletic shorts to reveal her purple swimsuit. She dove right in, headfirst.

So much for a leap of faith. Annabeth purposefully showed up only 5 minutes before midnight, wanting to surprise Percy with her skills (best case scenario), or have him be impressed with her for trying prior to coming to her rescue before the water gulped her down (this case scenario). She couldn’t remember anything about a freestyle, butterfly, breaststroke, or backstroke. All she could remember was Percy’s hands running across her arms and legs as he held her up, whispering the technicalities in her ear as he checked her form. Maybe she fucked up, maybe this was a mistake and now she was being consumed for nothing. 

In her frenzy, she managed to remember one of the things Percy had told her with his lips pressed up against her ear (why did he ever think that was the best way to instruct her on anything?). He had told her that if she ever found herself drowning, simply flip onto her back (she flipped), allow her head to float to the surface (she floated), and trust and follow the current (if the water going in and out of the pool filter counted as a current then she did that, too). Well, at least she wasn’t dying. This she knew.

As if on cue, Percy slipped out quietly from his back door.

“Annabeth?” he asked frantically before lowering himself into the pool by her side.

“I’m floating,” she replied.

Upon realizing that she was okay, he began to laugh at the predicament he had found her in. Looking back, Annabeth could see how comical that might be. He helped her up onto the poolside, trying to keep himself from exploding into a juvenile fit of laughter right in her face as he began to question her.

“How’d you end up in there?” Percy’s sea-green eyes were crinkled in amusement. “I mean, if you wanted late-night swimming lessons you could’ve just asked.”

He turned to look at her, realizing that she had been incredibly quiet. Annabeth was observing him, trying to read his face. Was Percy Jackson in love with her? She realized that she was worrying him as she saw the playful glisten disappear from his eyes, quickly being replaced by the foggy mystery that was present that night at the kitchen island when water droplets had danced across his eyelashes. There were water droplets dancing across his eyelashes now.

Annabeth broke the silence; “Percy, what are our swimming lessons to you? Were they always just swimming lessons?”

Percy furrowed his brows, but before he had the chance to just respond with another question Annabeth continued.

“Because they weren’t to me. I love you, Percy. I’m not sure when that happened but it doesn’t matter, because I love you now. I jumped into a fucking pool to show it, for God’s sake.” Annabeth laughed to herself, kicking at the water. She looked back up at Percy, but now he was staring down into the pool as if he were searching for something at the very bottom.

“I realized that I know a lot of things,” Annabeth continued, refusing to avert her gaze from Percy’s profile. Water droplets glistened on his brow under the midnight moon. “I also don’t know a lot of things. I love you and you’re just a bunch of knowns and unknowns to me all at once and I love you for it. And you don’t have to say it back, not now, not ever, because you just being here is enough. Thank you.”

Percy let out a breathless laugh and shook his head, looking up at the moon. The soft white light outlined his glistening figure. “Well, I’m going to say it back because I do. I love you.”

Annabeth took a deep breath in, relieved that he said it back because she knew that yet didn’t know it at the same time. Getting used to the unknowns was going to take some time, but if Percy was going to be there by her side during that time it was all worth it.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked, but Percy was already leaning in.

He pulled her towards him with his hand on the small of her back, gentle, and leaned down to capture her lips. Annabeth cupped his chin and arched herself into him. His lips were wet, cold, soft. She could feel the water droplets between their lips, their noses, their cheeks, their arms, their legs. When they pulled away, Percy looked down at her through half-lidded eyes, his lips reddened and slightly agape. His dampened overgrown curls framed his face and stuck between his brows and his freckles danced across his nose, cheeks, and underneath his eyes. Percy lowered himself into the pool.

“I want to teach you one more lesson, tonight,” he barely made a sound when he said it but, once again, Annabeth was hyper-focused on everything that was Percy Jackson. He took Annabeth’s wrists and placed her arms over his shoulders before taking hold of her from underneath her legs and lowered her into the pool with him. He grasped Annabeth’s chin with his index finger and thumb and lowered her lips down to his again. Annabeth ran her fingers through his wet curls before cupping the back of his head, pressing herself closer to him.

When the two parted, Annabeth couldn’t help but ask: “What was I supposed to learn from that?”

“The breathing.”

***

The summer after Percy and Annabeth’s senior year, before they embarked on their respective college journeys, Annabeth made Percy promise to take her scuba diving. The two decided to go after Percy’s birthday, now that they were both 18, so they could take themselves to the beach house Percy’s mom had gotten by the coast.

Prior to the trip, Annabeth had purchased an embarrassingly large amount of new swimsuits. Most of them were blue, Percy’s favorite color, some of them were purple and some of them were grey. Percy had also taken her to buy diving gear before they went to dinner, a perfect hybrid date. They held hands the whole time, Percy rubbing circles into her hand with his thumb. Their swimming lessons continued, and Annabeth was finally beginning to get better. It wasn’t like the other times where the two of them had said that she was getting better while they both knew that nothing had changed. It was real this time because Percy actually began to seriously teach this time (“No more whispering,” Annabeth had told him). Some lessons were just to practice all the breathing, but that was to be expected.

“You know you don’t have to go scuba diving if you don’t want to,” Percy said repeatedly, from when they were paying for the gear to as they sat across from each other in the restaurant. “I know you haven’t always loved the ocean…”

Annabeth beamed up at her boyfriend – her surreal boyfriend, Percy Jackson – and said, “Well, it’s hard for me to be scared of something that you live in.”

Not anymore, at least. The ocean had a lot of unknowns, yes, but Annabeth was slowly starting to unlearn the idea that it was her job to know everything. It wasn’t possible. Sometimes she just wanted to go scuba diving with her boyfriend without having to think too hard about it, even if he was a competitive swimmer and Annabeth hadn’t learned until last summer. Percy’s shit-eating grin made an appearance.

“I’ll watch all the Harry Potters with you.”

“Oh, you better.”

So, the weekend after Percy’s birthday the two of them set off for the coast in Paul’s white minivan (with the Jackson-Chase blessing, of course). Percy’s loose curls were overgrown, the wind rushing in from the rolled down windows blew it all across his face making Annabeth question his ability to drive with such an obstacle. His summertime freckles had fully settled in, and the two of them sang along to the radio until their throats were raw. Percy took Annabeth’s hand in his as he drove and planted kisses to it periodically. 

He was going to UC San Diego to be a student-athlete and Annabeth was going to UC Berkeley, her dream school. The two schools were eight hours apart, but they would make it work. She knew that. She didn’t know all the details yet, but that was okay. She loved Percy Jackson and the unknown wasn’t as intimidating as it was before his wave crashed into her life at full force. She didn’t have to know everything. Not right now, while he was right here, kissing her hand as they drove to the coast.

[theempressar]

Drabble Prompt Challenge Part 2 for @curiousdamage

Part 1 found here: https://theempressar.tumblr.com/post/185962276349/pick-one-for-johnnyshannon-tinder-date-41446

46 “Dance with me.”

Shannon was taken aback.  She hadn’t received a compliment from Johnny that didn’t have strings attached or backhanded insult about her sex life for a very, VERY long time.  She didn’t trust him.  But there was something about his eyes tonight.  And if she could reach that far back in her memories to where she didn’t completely loath him she could remember what that look meant.  A very tiny piece of ice melted.

“Thanks...you don’t look half-bad yourself...You don’t smell like you walked out of a puddle of beer.”  

“I missed you too.”

“Shut up.”  

“Was that a smile?”

She rolled her eyes at him.  She sucked more of her drink through the tiny straw.  “Why you doing this, Johnny? I thought you said going on blind dates was for “pussies”  *she did air quotes*  

Johnny stared down at his beer.  He knew he was busted.  He couldn’t really come out and say that he was trying to do what?  Get revenge?  Patch up his bruised ego?  Get laid?

“I dunno...just seemed like something to waste my time with...I heard all the kids are doing it these days...well kids and few desperate Gen Xer’s.  Johnny looked at her pointedly. 

“Speak for yourself.” 

All of the sudden “The Pina Colada song” started up on the overhead speakers. Johnny paused on his next insult and cocked his head.  “You gotta be kidding me.”  

Shannon listened and finally giggled a little.  “How ironic.” 

Johnny motioned for the bartender to bring them two...Pina Coladas with all of the amenities.  Fruit and umbrellas and swirlie straws. 

“I’m not sure I should be mixing drinks like this.”  Shannon said taking her swirlie straw and diving in anyway. 

“That never stopped you before.” Johnny said trying to find the most manly way to drink his girly drink. “You do realize what this is right?” 

“Yeah...I remember...it’s our song.”  Shannon looked down at her drink.  

“Dance with me.”  

“What?  Johnny...I’d say you’ve had too much to drink...but we both know better than that...I am not dancing with you.”  Shannon said trying to be serious and angry...but truthfully...she had forgotten the reasons why.  Her mind was starting to drift to about 20 years prior...before things started going to hell for them.  Granted that time was brief...but she loved every minute of it. 

“C’mon...it won’t be so bad.” Johnny said getting off of his stool and pulling her with him. 

“Nooo...Johnny...this is...I’m trying to stay pissed at you!”  

“Why?  Just let it go for one night...I haven’t done anything too shitty to blow your mood...besides my presence...can you overlook that for one dance?  Especially since it’s our song?” 

Shannon looked at him like he had set this whole thing up on purpose.  She wasn’t quite convinced that he hadn’t.  

He was giving her his best patented ‘You know you wanna...” look.  She prided herself on almost being immune to it...almost.

He took her out to the middle of the bar.  There really wasn’t a dance floor, but Johnny never got embarrassed.  He was nervous though.  He was waging a battle inside of trying not to find reasons to start another war of words with her...and trying to still impress her after all of these years.  He still only knew a few basic dance steps...and Shannon was already yelling at him as he tried to execute a simple spin on the floor but knocking her in the head with his elbow. 

“OUCH...JOHNNY!”  She said rubbing her head and then hopped on one foot as he put his foot down hard on her big toe trying to dip her. “Enough with the ‘special moves’.  I wanna get out of here in one piece...thank you very much.” 

He started to look a little dejected as she was shoving him off of her.  She stopped and took pity on him.  “C’mon, you big baby...I’d figure you’d be lighter on your feet...doing all that Karate crap.”  

She pulled him closer to her body then.  “Let’s just dance...ok?” She put her hands low on his hips.  She was shorter that he was and her head rested right under his chin on his clavicle. She rested it there and closed her eyes.  She could feel his heartbeat pick up and still unsure what to do with his hands.  She started rocking with him to the music.  Hands started moving against his lower back sending a shiver up his spine.  

Johnny finally settled his hands at the middle of her back.  She was more skin than clothes and he didn’t know if she would protest at his getting ‘too friendly’ but he remembered who he was with.  She was probably shocked he didn’t have his hand on her ass right now.  He was uncomfortable at first.  Listening to her breathe...and then hum to the music...Just give it a rest for tonight, Lawrence.  He told himself.  You can go back to calling her a bitch tomorrow. 

“Did you plan for this to happen?”  Shannon whispered, moving against his body, undulating against him, looking up into his eyes.  The alcohol and memories were flooding her better judgment and the way he was now looking at her.  His eyes a muted blue in the darkened room.  The two of them alone...shutting out the world around them.  Johnny’s fingers lazily exploring her back...moving up to cup the back of her head.  

“What...the song?  That was a coincidence...I had no idea that that fox of a babe was you on the ap...It’s just my good luck that it turned out to be you.”

“So it’s good luck now, is it?” She smiled wryly at him. 

“We’re gonna find out.”  Johnny said pulling her even closer to him.  He put his hands on her hips to still them from moving so tortuously against his front.  He was a man with needs after all...and he wasn’t oblivious to what she was doing to him.   

I got 2 more prompts in this challenge!  I’m doing it!!  @curiousdamage XD!!

[feitanswife]

Sorry for the fucking essay but no actually I’m not

So I saw a buzzfeed story article on snap and it was from a hashtag on twitter that was trending a few days back, #igotwokewhen or something to that effect.

And it reminded me of something that would be WAY too long of a story for twitter.

Well, several somethings. Three to be exact. This was like a two year process that only sort of included tumblr.

So it started in my sophomore year of high school (10th grade, I was... turning 16 that coming March) and I was in Honors 10th Grade English with the rest of the tryhards.

(Honors didn’t really mean anything in the grand scheme of things, the classes were relatively similar to core, it was basically a box you checked during class selection to say “I want to be in a class with people who give a shit”)

And I was in a corner with two other kids: the one I’ll call Cake Face, and her best friend, Cutie. (Cause they were cute. Like adorable non-threatening videogame-nerd-who-even-I-could-drop-kick-if-they-tried-anything cute, which was very much my “type” in high school as I was in complete and utter denial about my lack of sexual attraction and only let myself grow close to people I could totally take in a fight to ease my anxiety about being touched.)

Cake Face was a terrifying girl who very Clearly had a tumblr.

This was 2014-2015. She Very Clearly Had A Tumblr.™️ like it was Scary.

She sat behind me and she terrified me. I’d known her from 7th grade onwards and until that point I knew 3 things about her: she wore WAY too much makeup, she was a try hard at school, and she hated pretty much everyone.

Except Cutie, who she would kill and die for.

Cutie, whose real name I can’t even remember now, was the first out trans peer I remember having. (I say “out” because two of my best friends who is known for much longer came out later, but at the time to my knowledge Cutie was the only one so I count them as first cause it was my first interaction under the pretense)

Cutie was also the first non-binary person I knew. That is without condition, to my knowledge (I haven’t kept track of many people from high school) as the next notable encounter was well into college.

So now you had me, vaguely crushing on Cutie whose Overbearingly Agressively Supportive best friend sat right behind me.

Needless to say that crush went nowhere, we hardly talked cause I was too afraid of Cake Face to even start up a coversation for fear I’d say something wrong and get my head ripped off. She was openly confrontational with our teacher and the rest of the class and I just kept my head down and said nothing.

Come to think of it, that’s probably what Cutie was doing too. I certainly wouldn’t want my best friend fighting people on my behalf all day. Talk about embarrassing.

But the idea had been put in my head and since I was about ankle deep in Fandom Tumblr that that point (mostly popular anime with some J-fashion on the side) I decided to dip my toes in further.

And while I was still wrapping my head around the vague idea of asexuality and oh no what does this mean for the boyfriend I got last spring my near best friend in the world cane out as a trans guy on like, day one of our AP language and composition class.

Just to me and our mutual friend but like, it happened. The name he ended up choosing could be shortened to a rather gener neutral nickname so he ended up going by that at large, but the actual conversation only happened with us.

(To be fair, his deadname when combined with his middle name was a weed based pun so no one was surprised he changed it. it was also spelled weirdly.)

And that was the first time I’d ever like, fully integrated into the... entire culture of interacting??? I guess??? Like learning the lingo, learning the flags, figuring out what a binder was (and trying to talk him out of wearing it to gym class, irresponsible little shit!) and I quickly became very protective of him.

I mean I was protective before cause he had other problems like anxiety worse than mine and we all know that when a group of friends all have anxiety that whoever’s is currently least active gets to pretend they’re fine and deal with shit. But this was a whole other layer. It honestly made me a little paranoid cause people... people show their true colors at times like these.

Like that second friend he told.

“Friend”

I ended up writing her into a novel just to hit her character with a truck over one (1) conversation.

Cause when my friend was around she was a sweet angel.

But when he wasn’t she was rude as shit and misgendered him constantly. Also she was really jealous of me being better at essay writing than her and like well maybe if you focused more effort into class and less into talking shit about your supposed best friend then??? Maybe you’d know how to write???

And I worked my ass off on a group poster project and she threw it out and redid the whole thing herself cause she didn’t like mine and it’s been like four years and I have never forgiven her for that I had like three panic attacks for that poster and you threw it away?

I’m not even gonna censor her name Fuck You Jillian you entitled piece of shit!

And around that time I also met the most important person of my life.

She’s a year younger than me and three times as smart, she’s still my best friend to this day and all of our friends unironically call her mom.

And she was the first person I came out to as ace.

(Mostly because she did first and the only response I could think of was “me too!” We were eating lunch. I think I was sitting on the floor. She was on a bench. I was looking up at her. Her hair was bright fire engine red and down to her butt and she was in full gothwear.)

It was because of her that I eventually made a new tumblr account (first under lily-of-the-rain, then raininglillies, then Feitanswife which I have no interest in changing cause I can’t fathom anyone else having this url) and sort of dove deep into all of this cause I finally felt like I could.

Like she was the full permission to exist in this space! She ran our high schools GSA and now is Vice President of our college’s Queer and Allues club (which I only joined cause she dragged me)

and all of that while being ace, which I was ultimately horrifically ashamed of until I met her.

Not because I thought it was wrong to be ace, I just thought it made me less important. Just in general. I was less important in the straight world and less important among the lgbtq+ community. No one was gonna make a fuss over me if I just sat down and shut up, but I wasn’t going to be missed if I disappeared either.

I was just what I’d always been, a background character. Meant to be seen and not heard. Don’t make a fuss just sit and be quiet and be glad we saved you a chair at all.

But she wasn’t. She walked in and it didn’t matter if it was a night out or 7 am on a Tuesday she was dressed to the nines, with her nearly neon red hair and a sort of “DONT fuck with me” energy that let her just mow down anyone who wanted to start shit, with her or anyone else.

And people respected her not in spite of who she was but because of it

And that was the final flip of the switch I needed. First it was the awareness, then the caring personal connection, and then there was “you have the right and the duty to flip that fucking switch. It is yours.

Not because someone else told you to or because it affects people you care about, but because it affect you

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Caramel Skin Under a Vanilla Sky prt 12 draft

Hitching a ride on a tourist shuttle out the Garrison, it was another hop skip and a jump over to Erathus. The ship docking station above the planet was something else. The sheer size putting the castle ship to shame as he was swept along with the visiting masses. Pulling out his communicator, he snapped a few shots before sending the photos though to his mother. She'd cried all morning as they triple checked he had everything. Rachel turning up at the very last moment with silly tourist trinkets so he wouldn't forget home. It would have been a nice sentiment if she hadn't followed up by informing him that she'd called Ronnie and told her he was heading out and to lock up all eligible women in the universe. Laughing at his sister, they missed the pain that flashed through his deep blue eyes. Lance fazing out for half a moment to come back in as Luis complained that Veronica should hurry up and ask Acxa out, suggesting Lance give the pair a push if needed. The pair had grown close. Lance was also silently hoping Veronica would ask Acxa out, purely so everyone else would leave his lack of relationship alone... that and Veronica needed to get laid. Not that he had experience in that. He'd never slept with Allura and as pathetic as it sounded, he was saving his first time for someone special. He'd wanted a future with Allura. He wanted the huge white wedding, children, growing old together. Yet as he looked back on his relationship with her, he could see all the ways it'd been lacking. Allura was still hung up on Lotor. It didn't matter to her that months had passed. He'd been her first great love. Her first choice. If he hadn't turned out to be such an evil dick Lance would never had a chance. It's fucking hurt. There hadn't been enough hours in the day to transfer the pain that weighed him down. He'd surrounded himself in junipers like a fool, and was forced to face the result each time he looked out the window of his families home. "Former Paladin Lance?" Lost in his own little world of sending photos through to his family, Lance blinked in confusion at someone calling for him. Dressed in black, three burly Galra were waiting for him. Lance swallowing hard as a lump of fear rose in his throat "Yep. Yeah. That's me" "We have come to collect you. The ambassador is most anxious to meet you" Oooooh. So these guys were also working security? They all looked hardy enough to handle anything thrown at the ambassador "Sweet. Thanks for coming to collect me. You can just call me..." He didn't want to be Lance. Lance was the loser on Earth who couldn't go without screaming nightmare more than few weeks at a time "Leandro. Leandro is fine" "Very well, Leandro. If you'll please come with us" The lack of introduction should have been Lance's first clue that something wasn't quite right. Taking the grav-elevator down to planet level, Lance tried not to gawk at the buildings so reminiscent of the "golden age of Hollywood". Even the cars were fashioned on long gone models. Keith would have had a field say. Especially when he saw the bikes. "Everything alright, Leandro?" "Yeah. I mean... yes. Just taking it all in, my dudes" Why did his anxieties have to flare up to make him sound like an absolute moron. "My dudes"?!? Seriously. What was that? God. He wanted this job so badly he could taste it, now he probably making the Galra wonder why their boss had ever hired anyone like him. His awkward sentence was only made worse when no one made any sort of reply. His mouth was urging his brain to keep talking, to somehow talk his way out of the situation. Lance would do that. But Leandro. Leandro was cool and sophisticated. Leandro would hold his tongue and not get them into any more trouble, or get them fired before he'd even met the ambassador. Waiting at the station at the bottom of the grav elevator, was a long slick black limousine with tinted windows. A forth alien also dressed in black gave a small bow as they approached "It's a pleasure to meet you. Please make yourself comfortable" Opening the door for them, Lance climbed inside first. Feeling incredibly small and grotty when compared to luxurious white leather seats, and flawlessly polished gold accents of the space "It's magnificent, isn't it?" Nearly jumping on fright, Allura popped into view across from him. Her form hovering for a second or two, before one of the Galra of the party took the seat she'd been occupying "Everything ok, Agent Leandro?" "Agent Leandro" he liked the sound of that. It was better than "former Paladin", or "Lance, the boy from Cuba" "Yes, thank you" "Excellent" Again, trying not to appear too eager, Lance watched the world outside the window as the limousine silently weaved it was through the traffic. It was both jarring and mesmerising to see this version of Earth, where they'd even put up large clocks all over the place with various Earth times and cities displayed underneath. Arriving at spacious mansion, it took everything Lance had not to gape as the door of the limousine was opened. A whole crowd of staff stood to order as their group made their way towards the front doors. Gripping the strap of his backpack nervously, Lance was mentally reciting every single prayer his mother had drummed into him in Spanish. He loved his mother, yet even at 21, he still feared her pink slipper that used to come out of nowhere when he'd stumble with his prayers. Many a time he'd dived into bed with Luis or Marco for protection from his mother's tough love. Walking through the group, he was blind to the looks and whispers cast his way, just as he was blind to the effect his trailing scent left in some of those. All he wanted to do was make a good impression, and you only had one shot at making a great first impression... The ambassador was a mammoth. Not a literal mammoth, though he would definitely rival one in size. He was huge. Bigger than Zarkon. Bigger than Sendak. He hesitated to use the word grizzled as his mind still associated it with Keith and ridiculously ripped physique. Buuut damn. He was one solid unit "Red Paladin Lance! Welcome, welcome! I am Klearo. Please come in" He was already inside. Though he was sure that if he was outside he would have heard him as clearly "He's loud, isn't he?" Goddamn Allura. He wasn't doing this "Thank you. I'm Leandro, Lance is my former name" Laughing, the large alien walked over and clamped a hand on his shoulder "It is most nice to meet you Leandro. Come let us talk. You drink, yes?" It was way too early in the morning for drinking... and he would have said "no" if he wasn't still working on creating a great impression "I do on occasion" "Then we drink! I fill you in on your mission details right? There are those out there who think they can kill the great Klearo! I laugh. Then they shoot at Klearo, so I call back the one they call the greatest shooter of Voltron!" Lance had to wonder if Klearo hadn't already started drinking before his arrival. It'd explain why the alien was so bloody loud. With his overly hairy appearance, he seemed like some kind of semi-intelligent ape rather than a diplomat. Having given his own peace talks, the kind of vibe he was picking up Klearo didn't match with what was expected. None the less. He'd come to do a job, and that he was exactly what he intended to do. * Klearo was awkward on stage. His jokes falling so flat that Lance felt a twinge of sympathy for the huge alien. He'd also learned that his presence at these kinds of things proved a hinderance more than a help. Totally not copying Keith or the Blades, Lance started employing the use of a full face mask, allowing the crowd to concentrate on Klearo rather than him. Not that Klearo seemed to care. The "warm" reception had faded the first time a person in the crowd called out of him to speak instead. He was on the outside of the rest of the team, leading to his anxieties only worsening. Part of him wanted to throw it all, go back home and play farmer, but the bigger part of him wanted to actually be useful. He didn't want go home as a failure all over again. He'd only been there for a movement before everything went quiznakking wrong. Forced to drink with an angry Klearo, it wasn't until his third of forth drink that he noticed something strange. His tongue was tingling, as were the tips of his fingers and toes. Standing beside the chair he was lounging in, Allura leaned in "Its drugged" Ignoring her, he drained the rest of his drink. What reason would they have to drug him? He was doing his job, even if he wasn't making friends. Struggling up, the world started to spin "Leandro?" "I think that's it for me" His words were slurred. Climbing to his feet, his legs wouldn't hold resulting in him landing ungainly on the floor "Did you drug me? Guys... come on..." Placing down his glass, Klearo rose "Bring him through. Don't damage him too badly" Hauled up by the arms, Lance tried to struggle against the drugs coursing through his system. Spluttering and mumbling weak objections, he was dragged along the hallway to Klearo's personal chambers. That's when Lance knew he was well and truly fucked. Thrown down on the bed in the middle of the room, Lance was flipped onto his back. His arms pulled upwards to be bound "No... let me go..." His slurred repeated utterances went ignored. The thin cloth of his casual shirt torn to pieces by a human-sized alien with four eerily green eyes. Blinking at him with his top two eyes, the alien didn't stop "Leave us!" Flinching at how loud Klearo's voice was, Lance "struggled" against his bindings. His eyelids drooping despite how hard he tried to hold open them. When the bed dipped under Klearo's weight, he screamed "Someone shut him up. His voice irritates my ears" Above him came a set of thick Galra arms, a gag shoved into his mouth causing his eyes to water. This... if this was a joke, he wasn't laughing "Do you have any idea how annoying you are? All we had to go through to get you? And you weren't even worth it in the end" That stung. Shouldn't it be a good thing if he didn't actually have to use the blaster he'd been provided with? Didn't that mean that the threats Klearo had received amounted to nothing? Feeling the aliens large hands on his hips, Lance whimpered as they were unzipped "You smell amazing. I've wanted to do this ever since I smelt you..." "Ngh!" That was the best no he could get out "And now I have my very own Paladin beneath me. I wanted your lion, but they say the lions left" He what now? What... oh... fuck. This was bad... twisting, he fought the numbness weighing him down. Trying his hardest to kick, he couldn't raise his legs off the bed "The Red Paladin. Affiliated with Fire. Show me why the people like you, instead of me!" The pain was nothing Lance could describe. The dull feeling of thick fingertips against his opening. The sharp rip as Klearo shoved a nailed finger inside, the swelling instinct to repel the foreign digit. The laughing goes Klearo as he shoved a second finger in. The moment of relief when the fingers slid out, the silent scream as his eyes shot wide when Klearo buried himself brutally between his legs in one sharp thrust. Screaming around the gag, his body rocked without his permission with each thrust Klearo gave, the haired alien taking his hips in his hands so hard Lance thought the bones were going to snap. Beside him Allura sat looking prim, a frown on her face the only sign that she felt something wrong with the situation. Vomiting into his mouth, Lance was torn a little further. Blood oozing over the blue sheets beneath him as turned red, spreading across his inner thighs as it smeared into Klearo's hair. The smell driving him into further hysteria. The sounds of wet slaps echoed in his ears. Picking up his pace, Klearo grabbed him by the hair as he grunted hard, tearing out a thick chunk as the man's dick pulsed, Klearo coming with enough force he felt as if the man was flooding him with a hose. Screaming in despair, choking on vomit and accidentally locking eyes with Allura, his body betrayed him. Dry orgasm from having his prostate pounded against incessantly rolled through him. The degree of shame was something he'd never thought possible. His employer had just raped him... and he'd come. Pulling out of him, Klearo hushed him as Lance's lower half spasmed with pain uncontrollably "My own Red Paladin painted with his own red blood... what a masterpiece" Clicking his fingers, a servant came forth. The moment the gag was removed, vomit spilt from his lips as he wretched and heaved "Pack him up. We leave tonight as planned. Make sure you don't let him die. We're getting that Red lion, and he's the key to it" The same arms came over his vision, Lance staring up at the ceiling as he was untied and gathered up onto the shoulder of a Galra. Carried out the bedroom, he could feel the cum and blood running down his thighs, the cold air of the manor slowly drying it into a crust as he bounced like a rag doll. He'd raped him and he'd come. Why?! Why did he come? He didn't want this... he didn't want any of this! Reaching a waiting vehicle, another hand came down to grab his hair, forcing his head up. Unable to raise his gaze, he stared at the red "y" shape on the arm. Was it a brand or a tattoo? He couldn't tell... he didn't know. Dropping his head, Lance's nose smacked against the fabric of his suit... a weird feeling bubbling up inside... he almost... wanted to laugh? Was it laugh? He didn't know what he wanted, his mind was foggy, slowly joining the uselessness his body held "He's still conscious. We can't have kicking up a fuss when drugs wear off. Put him under and keep him under until we arrive" "Yes, sir" * Stabled naked on the floor of a dingy room, Lance hovered in and out of consciousness as he huddled in the furtherest corner. Every few vargas someone would come in and he'd been dosed with a glowing yellow liquid. With each passing dose, a moment of euphoria would pass through him. A taste of life he'd never felt before. And one he was anxious to feel again and again, despite that with each passing dose, the effects would wear off faster and faster. On the quintants it felt like they'd forgotten him, when the doses were further apart, the feeling of satisfaction they supplied lasted longer when they did finally remember him. After he'd been initially transferred, Klearo had forced him to show his face as he gave another speech. His voice was too ruined to ask for help. His employer had promised to reveal him to the world for the disgusting pervert he was, if he didn't keep his mouth shut. How he was supposed to keep his mouth shut, and be tortured for information on the Red lion, he didn't know. When they'd realised he'd ruined his throat they finally locked him away. Left alone in the dark, Lance had all the time in the world to think. Shiro would have found a way out of here by name, his trade mark "patience yields focus" staying first and foremost in his mind. He was biding his time. Keith too would have found a way free by now. Hunk... Hunk was too fucking pure, the same went for his favourite Gremlin. If they'd gone after the other lions... god... he was almost grateful to be the one captured. He was the one stupid enough to leap right in. Hunk would have declined so he could spend more time with Shay. Pidge had never loved the limelight. Keith would have been asking questions from the get go... and Shiro.... Shiro was finally in a good place. No. He was the goddamn useless idiot who'd jumped at the job. He'd walked right into the stupid trap, and deserved all he got. Smacking his head against the wall over and over, he was so fucking done waiting for the right moment. Waiting until the drug doses came on the back of other. Waiting until they believed him too far out of it fight back. What did it all really matter anyway? Allura stood there and watched each time he was taken. She'd be there to sit beside him in the dark after they'd deposit his body back in the cold. He couldn't give them Red. He was long gone with the rest of the Lions. Lance was aware of how much Red had done to hold him together. How he'd shouldered Lance's burdens when Allura had died. How he soothed Lance with a gentle rumbling purr on the nights he woke up with no idea where he was. He didn't have Red anymore. Allura had brought him back wrong. His body was less and less his as the quintants passed, leaving him with a never ending boiling anger he could only direct inwards. Pain was the only thing that made things real. But whatever they shot him up with took away that pain... It could have movements. It could have even been phoebs, but as he'd expected his body adapted to the frequent injections. Lance now strong enough to hide the failings of their workings as he was escorted from his cell. He knew others were there somewhere. He'd heard screams night after night that attested to such. Dragged into Klearo's chambers, he stumbled as he was released and nudged towards the bed. Klearo insisted on taking him first, after him, the order didn't matter. Not moving fast enough, Lance was taken by the arm and forcible pulled across the space before being pushed down. His fingers itched to grab the blaster on his tormentors hip, yet he had to wait. He had to wait until Klearo was there, or none of this meant anything. Sitting like a doll at the end of the bed, he no longer flinched as the Galra by his side ran his hand down Lance's bare back. He no longer flinched when the beasts nails tore at his skin, adding to the already disturbing collection across his skin. Tucking a stray strand of hair back behind his ear, the Galra leaning in to sniff deeply "You smell so fucking good" Grinding his teeth together, Lance forced himself not to act. Patience yielded focus "Klearo wants you placid. Open your mouth" This was new. This wasn't in his plans. He couldn't let them force other drugs down his throat. Opening his mouth, the Galra pushed a hand flat against it, forcing tablets inside as he'd feared. They tasted as nice as the liquid they poured down his throat before they'd start whipping him for not being able to call back the Red lion. He couldn't keep waiting. He couldn't go through that again. The pain between his legs that never truly left. Biting the webbing between the thumb and pointer, Lance tore the flesh between his teeth. Howling in anger, the made it worse by tearing his hand way. Spitting out the flesh and tablets, blood ran down Lance's chin. His teeth and lips red as he smiled "You bastard!" Scrambling for his blaster, Lance snatched it up first. He felt nothing a he pulled the trigger. Nothing as he blood spurted from the shot to the neck. Firing again, he aimed for the groin, firing over and over until the Galra was dead on the floor. The piece of shit deserved it. They all fucking deserved it. Laughter bubbled up at the sight before him. The Galra's genitals shot to hell, a bloodied mess that couldn't even been called genitals. Stalking the halls of the ship Lance shot indiscriminately. He'd thought himself planet side due to the lack of the sounds of engines, and the constant streams of guests Klearo entertained. He knew the difference by now. Klearo's underlings all bore the same "y" like tattoo, Red in respect to their goal of taking the Red Lion. Despite being a largely Galra force, not all that followed Klearo were Galra. Lance's stomach had dropped when he'd learned the faction was made up of those who Voltron had failed. Klearo was indeed an ambassador. He was the ambassador of Voltron's failures. Lance no longer cared. He couldn't care. As he limped those halls, he was Leandro. Leandro got things done. Everyone associated with this fucked up... group deserved to die. So they did. It was that simple. Hunting them down as they ran, the ship's alarms blared dying the world red from the ship's flashing lights. Everything surrounding him was Red. Along the way he took clothes of smaller aliens closer to his size, at Allura's begging. Slipping them into place on his tender and bruised frame, his body was his. He was done with sharing his body without permission. It didn't matter that the clothes were bloodied, nor did it matter that the fabric was rough against his skin. They were best clothes he'd ever worn. Clearing all those he could find, Klearo had already left. Allura trailing behind him as he walked, pleading with him to take a pod and leave. Pleading with him to let those left live. He couldn't. If there was no trace of what had been done to him left, then it never happened. If it'd never happened to him, then he was just Leandro. Bodyguard and sharpshooter extraordinaire. Yeah. Lance was weak. Lance had been tricked. Leandro wouldn't be tricked. He wouldn't take mercy. He was going to track down Klearo and he was going to make sure that no one who knew what happened lived. His blue eyes were filled with humour as he strode through the bloodied halls. Laughter bubbled out his lips over how some bodies had slumped. Making his way to the control room, he strode over to the main computer, to find it locked. That wasn't very nice. He'd shown them such a good time with his body. Oh well. He was just going to have shoot the damn thing into submission. So he did. Destroying the control room with his blaster, thick acrid smoke rolled off the twisted metal as fire started to lick at the floor. It was tempting to stay, to let himself be consumed, but his mission wasn't done. His boss was out there unprotected and in need of his skills.

[woildismyerster]

you’re writing is so lit like wtf so can i get some soft boi jack kelly where no one dies (@thefandom)

Get, rekt, fandom

“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” Jack said with a grin.

You snorted.  “What are we, eight?”

“What are you, a chicken?”

You paused.  “I mean, yeah.  I don’t trust you with my mouth.”

Race, who sat on the school lawn a few feet away, snorted.  “That’s not what you said last night.”

“I guess we really are eight,” you said dryly.

Jack was sitting crosslegged across from you.  “I can’t believe this.  After being friends for all this time, you don’t trust me?”

“With my life, yes.  With my tastebuds, no.  You probably have a handful of dirt or something.”

He put a wounded hand over his heart.  “Rude.”

“It’s still true,” you said with a shrug.

He wheedled for you to give in, and it took all of your strength not to.  It was difficult; instinctually you wanted to do whatever Jack asked of you.  If Jack told you to jump off a cliff, it’s possible that you would do it before thinking it through.

Even so, though you wanted to open up just so he would smile at you, you refused.  More likely than not, he had something gross.  

When the lunch bell rang, the lot of you got up to go back to class.  Most of your friend group took Senior English together, but Jack was in AP Art.  When you reached the stretch of hallway where you and Jack would split up, you grabbed his arm.  He looked at your hand, perplexed, but didn’t pull away.

“What were you going to give me?”  The curiosity would kill you if he didn’t say.

He pulled a bag of Skittles out of his pocket.

“Oh,” you said.  Those were totally harmless.  You held out a hand.  “Can I have some?  If you didn’t do anything to them, that is.”

“Of course not,” he said smugly.  “You didn’t trust me before.  Why would I reward you now?”

“Because you love me?”  You smiled sweetly.

“Not that much,” he said with the same sickly sweet tone.  “Don’t expect the worst of me, Y/N.  You’re the only person who might get the best.”

He walked away, leaving you confused and strangely happy.  

It was too cold to go on a walk, but you and Jack would only be home for Christmas break for a few more days.  You had to make the most of your time together before shipping off to your respective colleges.  

“Why don’t we visit each other?”  You only turned your head a little; just enough to peek at his face.  The small movement let the winter wind sneak through a new gap in your hood and scarf.  “You’re only an hour away from me.”

Jack’s breath created a cloud of steam when he sighed.  “I dunno.  It’s easier to not do something than it is to do it, I guess.”

“We were so close in high school,” you said wistfully.  “I was so sure that we were going to keep everything going.”

“We text all the time.”

“It’s not the same, and you know it.”  When he dipped his head in acknowledgment, you brightened.  “We always could, you know.  It’s almost the new year, and I haven’t chosen a resolution yet.”

“That would be your resolution?  Spend more time with Jack Kelly?”  His grin was teasing, but it softened when you nodded.  “Y/N, that isn’t necessary.  We can just agree to try harder.”

“No way,” you snorted.  “It’s a promise.  I’ll swear it.  You’re stuck with me, in person this time around.”

“Why?”

You looked at him fully this time, wincing when the cold brushed your face.  “What do you mean, why?  Because I miss you.”

“Are you going to promise the same things for the others?  Some of them are closer,” he pointed out.  

“It’s different with you,” you finally said.  Because you had liked him in high school.  Because nothing had changed since then.  Because after all this time, you thought that maybe things could really happen between the two of you.

“How is it different?”

“I think you and I could make it work,” you said, irritated.  Why was he fighting so hard?  If he didn’t want to see you, he should come out and say it.  “I think that we care about each other, so I think we could keep any promise we make.”

“‘We?’”

“Sure,” you said.  “You wouldn’t talk to me so much if you didn’t care at all.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said.  His eyes were fixed on your face, his smile fading away.  “Close your eyes, Y/N.”

Your brow furrowed.  “Why?”

“For God’s sake,” he huffed.  “Will you just shut your eyes?”

You did, raising your brows sarcastically.  “Happy now?”

“Very.”  As soon as the word faded from your ears, something warm was pressing against your lips.  Your eyes shot open, revealing Jack’s face against yours.  His eyes were closed, and he brought his gloved hands to hold onto your forearms.

He exhaled through his nose, and another burst of steam shot right into your eyes.  You gave a snort of laughter, and Jack pulled away.

His cheeks were pink, but you couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or cold at the root of it.  “Sorry, I misunderstood.  When you said that you cared, I thought -”

You reached out to grab hold of him, to keep him from retreating too far.  “No, I’m sorry.  I was surprised.  You understood perfectly.  I want to see you more, and I want you to kiss me every time.”

“You’re asking for a lot,” he said with a crooked smile.

“You seem willing to give it,” you retorted.

“You aren’t wrong,” he said.  He wrapped an arm around your waist when he started walking again, tugging you along.  The arm made you feel warm from head to toe, though your coat was thick enough to keep you from really feeling the weight of him.  “Fine - my New Year’s Resolution is to see you more.  We can work out the rest later.”

You grinned, leaning into his side.  It made walking kind of awkward, but you didn’t care.  “Awesome.  You know that you’re stuck with me now, for at least a year.”

“Ugh.  I take it back.”

“Not allowed,” you said gleefully.  “It’s a one year contract.  You have to deal with me for a year.”

“Alright,” he sighed.  He smiled and pressed a kiss into your hat.  “If I have to.”

“Alright, Y/N, close your eyes.”

You did as Jack instructed, holding out your hand so he could lead you into his apartment.  He had signed the lease in August, so you had a place to stay when you came to visit him for the weekend.  It was your one year anniversary, so he wanted to do something special.  In the words of Race, the two of you were hella broke, so you knew that Jack had been improvising.

“Here’s what I want you to picture,” he said.  “There’s a picnic setup, with the checkered blanket and fancy basket and all that jazz.  Quality booze, food that’s way too expensive to put in a basket, and candles on tacky candlesticks that don’t belong outside.”

“Classy,” you said with a smile.

“The lights are dim.  There are roses all over.  I mean all over, Y/N.  The ground, the furniture, in a vase on the table.  Probably in the toilet.  Everywhere.”

“Big spender.”

“That’s kinda the problem,” he said.  You heard him open the door, and he tugged gently on your hand to bring you inside.  “Open up.”

You opened your eyes, and your grin broadened.  His bed comforter was spread across the living room floor.  A cardboard box sat on the edge of the blanket, holding a box of pizza inside.  A bottle of cheap wine from Walmart sat in a bowl of ice, ready to fill up Jack’s Star Wars mugs.  A few daisies were scattered on the floor, the rest in a vase on the table.  Scented candles were resting on various, non-hazardous surfaces.

“I really tried,” he said.

“It’s perfect,” you said.  “The epitome of romance.”

He sat on the blanket, patting the side of it as though you wouldn’t know where to sit.  “Not gonna lie, I thought I would be able to afford to be a big spender by now.”

“Not gonna lie,” you echoed, “I thought we agreed to save money for the important things.”

“I could only afford a pizza.”

“And now we get to eat pizza,” you said reverently.  You reached over and squeezed his hand.  “Seriously, Jack, this is great.  Anniversaries don’t have to be a big deal.”

“They should be.”

“There are candles.  That’s pretty big,” you pointed out.

“I got stuff to make smores,” he admitted.  “I thought we could roast marshmallows on toothpicks.”

You laughed.  “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said.  He poured wine into the cups, raising his into a toast.  “To the end of our year long contract.  I’m free, at last.”

You clinked yours against his.  “Believe me, I’m as relieved as you are.  What’ll you do with the freedom?”  

He put pizza on the plates, eyes twinkling.  “Hang out with you all weekend.  We’ll definitely make out.”

“Nice,” you said with an approving nod.  “So, we’ll do the same stuff as always?”

“Sounds good to me.”

You clinked your glass against his again.  “Great.  Let’s eat.”

[howlingbarnes]

Soft as Silk - Part Four

Characters - Peter Parker x Spidey!Reader

Word Count - 1718

Warnings - None, Slow Burn

A/N - I’m sorry it took so long to get this part out, I know some of you have been waiting for it! I just don’t like to force it because I do care about this series and I don’t want it to come out like garbage because I’m just trying to get out a part. Thank you guys for being understanding. Remember, feedback makes all the difference in the world! Maybe tell me what you’d like to see in the next part??

Masterlist | Help me out? | Series Masterlist

Thank the gods it’s Friday

The thought passed through your barely coherent mind as you blinked awake. As much as you hated waking up before your alarm, you enjoyed the few minutes you got to feel the ultimate comfort in your bed prior to starting the day. Sinking into your pillows, letting your blanket hug you, allowing your body to feel heavy even with the aches and pains from the previous night made you feel somewhat at peace. It’s all you really wanted; peace. You knew that you wouldn’t see it though, not without fighting for it day in and day out.

You’d only let your eyes fall closed again for a moment before a knock on your door made them snap open again. Your mother was speaking so gently that if you didn’t have powers, you wouldn’t have heard her call your name at all.

“We’re bringing you to school today.”

“We?” You called back, your voice muffled by your plush pillows.

Though you knew who your mother was talking about, you wanted confirmation. Your father rarely took time out of work unless it was for something important, so giving you a ride to school wasn’t the only reason he was tagging along. Asking your mother vague questions was your way of getting her to tell you what was going on.

“Your father and I.” She answered and you could almost picture her crossing her arms while talking to your door. “Principal Morita wants to speak with us.”

Time stopped. Your heart just found a place in your stomach and you felt like you could barely breathe. Part of you felt like you hadn’t done anything wrong so you couldn’t think of a reason why your principal wanted to see your parents. On the other hand, you did skip out on class to hang out with Spider-Man. Maybe someone saw you leave? Maybe someone knew your secret and you were about to be exposed.

With your thoughts running rampant, your pleasant morning had quickly spiraled into a panic. Instead of your normal routine, you frantically got yourself ready for your trip to Hell. The nerves were making your fingers shake, and because you couldn’t control yourself, your webs were starting to form without permission and nearly everything you touched was impossible to put down. Each move you made was overcalculated, going out of your way to not draw attention to your nervousness. If your parents caught a whiff of strange behavior from you, you’d never hear the end of it.

The ride to your school was calm and quiet, at least it was for your parents. The city was pulsing for you. Every sense you had was so overwhelming that when your phone vibrated in your pocket, you nearly screamed, quickly recovering by clearing your throat instead.

S 🕸: Hey! It's been a few days. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out this evening?

S 🕸: I mean actually spend time together! That wasn't a pun or anything

Seda: I’d love to, as long as my identity staying intact long enough for me to see the light of day again

S 🕸: You okay?

Seda: I’m fine. Just some family stuff. Talk later, okay?

S 🕸: Can’t wait

S 🕸: You’ll be alright 😊

After your exchange, you tucked your phone back into your pocket and followed your parents into your school with your stomach dragging on the floor. Your nerves were wound tight in a bundle but you pushed forward with each step. Even with eyes on you, with the possibility of your cover being blown, the thought of not being able to see Peter again, you pushed forward, knowing that you couldn’t stop this if you tried. Time was meant to move forward regardless of if your world was crumbling from beneath you.

There was a brief wait before you were invited into Principal Morita’s office. Opting to not be too close, you settled into the chair closest to the door while your parents took the seats just in front of his desk once they’d shook his hand. An unsettling silence blanketed over the four of you and your anxiousness was making you fiddle with your webs in your pocket.

“I brought you here today to let you know that your daughter has incredible abilities.” Your principal spoke clearly, lacing his fingers together on his desk. He was so nonchalantly tearing your life apart, in so many words, yet he was perfectly calm about it. The whole situation was making you angry but more than anything, you were afraid.

“What do you mean?” Your father spoke up, curiously.

Morita’s eyes flickered over to you. The way his gaze laid on you was as if you should know exactly what he was talking about. The pressure was beginning to be too much, everything was bottled up and threatening to overflow. Tears began forming in your eyes, making you dip your head away from his probing stare.

“She’s top of her class.” The words rolled out of his mouth and it took everything in your being to not suck in a gasp of relief. “I’ve never seen anyone test as well as her, and it’s not just that; she’s gotten perfect grades on every assignment she’s handed in.”

Your parents were distracted by pride, giving you a chance to wipe your eyes and breathe without raising suspicion. Everything faded to a blur while you reflected. They talked on about AP classes and early graduation while you asked yourself why you’d let yourself get so worked up about people finding out who you were when the sun was down. Would it have really been that bad?

Seda: I’ll see you tonight 💦

S 🕸: Yes! Looking forward to it

S 🕸: Also what's up with the water emoji?

Seda: Not water lmao webs

S 🕸: ….I knew that

The day went on as normal after your parents left. You were able to pull yourself out of your nervous haziness to discuss after-school clubs and advanced classes with them before heading to your first period. This wasn’t before being called out by your principal. He let you know that he let you skipping your class slide because you were a good student otherwise and warned you not to do it again.

It wasn’t long before you were in a class that used to be your least favorite, one that you had to pretend was still your least favorite to keep up appearances. That class was physical education. There would be times here and there that you would run a little faster, kick a ball a little harder, but you never over-excelled. You didn’t want a huge amount of attention drawn to you over your physical fitness and the first person that would scream to the moon how good of an athlete you were is a gym teacher.

Whoever decided that wrestling needed to be a sport was a maniac, and whoever thought it’d be a good idea to have kids in school participate was even crazier. Sitting in the bleachers, you started to wring your hands and bounce your leg while silently praying that you didn’t get called on. This wasn’t any different than what you would do before you had powers, but now you did it because you were afraid you’d go too far and end up hurting someone.

“....and Parker!” Your teacher called out while you daydreamed about what you’d do when you got out of school, not realizing at first that he was staring at you.

Oh no.

He wanted you to go toe-to-toe with Peter Parker. As if that was fair. Well, anyone you got paired with would feel unfair considering that you could possibly kill them if you weren’t careful. That’s something that terrified you any time you touched someone who’s ass you weren’t trying to kick. In your head, you figured you just take him down fast and move on with your day. You charged Peter and surprised him enough to get him off his feet. However, he didn’t stay down even when you started to put some pressure on him.

“How are you stronger than me?” You struggled out while trying to keep him on the mat. Your classmates cheered when they realized that this match was actually going to be interesting instead of the one-sided messes that have been set up for a better half of the class period.

“It’s you,” Peter replied, staring at you wide-eyed after pinning your shoulders to the hard mat.

It’d taken a moment for you to stop struggling under his weight to process what he said. At first, you were confused but after a moment it all hit you like a brick wall. You weren’t sure if it was his aura, the overwhelming static in your head, or that stupidly cute mouth of his but it was like the lightbulb finally went off.

“Get off me.” It wasn’t a request and the way his small smile faded slowly let you know that he could tell.

Luckily, that was your last class of the day. So, without permission, you took off to the locker room to collect your things once Peter set you free. Your classmates could think you were leaving in embarrassment of being taken down so quickly, you didn’t care. What you did know is that you needed to get out of there, fast.

You didn’t bother changing your clothes before running out of the building minutes before the bell rang, freeing everyone for the day. By the time anyone would set foot out of the school, you were long gone, in your webbed outfit, on your way to a high up place.

S 🕸: Why’d you run?

Seda: I got scared

S 🕸: Is it really that bad that we really know each other?

You considered his words for a minute. It wasn’t bad, if anything it was nice having someone that understood almost exactly what you were going through. It was time for you to start trusting him. You were drawn to him regardless, you didn’t have a choice whether you wanted one or not.

Seda: Can I still come over tonight?

S 🕸: Only if you let me in this time

Seda: Promise

Part Five

@captainrogerss @bionic-buckyb @sebbytrash @goodolbucky @anakin-skywalkers @kawaii-satan-trash @wonderless-screwup @yessoftball-lover06 @mademoisellepryde @danijimenezv @transparentjudgepicklething @alwayshave-faith @thelamegatsby @wowspideyholland @timelordy-fangirl2 @blackcat-midnight-thatsme @fantasticallycaitlin @stargeek727 @bucky-slut

[thelongestdamnreviews]

Kingdom Hearts Re:Chain of Memories (Riku)

I honestly wasn't looking forward to trying this half of the game given how the first half went.  I knew that there were some differences between the two modes so I dipped my toes in the water so to speak and kinda got into it.  And then completely misread how one feature worked and started to dislike it, only to figure out how it worked and THEN everything clicked and I ended up actually enjoying it.  It took me just under eight hours to get to the end of Reverse/Rebirth. 

Riku wakes up floating in a grey void and is told that he can sleep in darkness forever or wake up and face the light and the pain to come with it.  Naturally, he figures that floating is boring and takes the first steps into Castle Oblivion's deepest basement, arriving there somehow sometime after helping King Mickey and Sora close the Door to Darkness.  Much like in Sora's story, it's all uphill from here... 

Take that, Darkboy. 

Riku's section of the game isn't a New Game Plus given that nothing in Sora's story transfers across, other than enabling you to play through Reverse/Rebirth.  While Riku still is bound to the card-based combat of Castle Oblivion, there are a few differences that make his part of the game different from Sora's. 

The first thing is that Riku can't change his deck...at all.  You can't even change the order of cards.  His deck is set for every world, so some worlds will give you a bunch of cards, some will give you several high-value cards, some will give you a paltry selection of weak cards...so you really should check the deck list out whenever you create a new world to see what you'll be dealing with.  The halls of the castle between the floors seem to have their own deck, but you get ambushed a few times leaving a world so you don't have an opportunity to check your cards before getting thrown into battle. 

Riku only has attack cards, barring the one Hi-Potion for the 'hallway' deck.  All of the cards are the same Soul Eater too, so no needing to worry about strike/thrust/combo finish stats.  This also means he doesn't get to use summons or magic, and thus he can't heal himself in-battle.  King Mickey joins you early on and he's a great card if you can play him--he not only heals you a little, he stuns/damages enemies in a large area and he also reloads your cards!  Because of Riku's sealed deck, breaking things in the environment only gives you HP balls so this is the only other way to heal outside of save points. 

Take a drink anytime smell or scent is brought up.  Have fun!

Instead of needing to manage level-up rewards between HP, expanding deck capacity, and learning new Sleights, Riku instead increases health, increases the Attack Power of his cards, and extends how long he can maintain Dark Mode.  I could actually tell that the AP bonuses did something given I could keep killing Heartless even on later floors in a few hits, barring the final two where they get a massive jump in durability as in Sora's game.  Dark Mode is unlocked early and is triggered when you break enemy cards.  The bigger the difference between the cards, the more points given.  Get 30 total and Riku transforms, refills his deck, and enters a super mode where his attacks are faster and hit harder (and several change entirely) as well as enabling the use of Sleights, though you still lose cards in the exchange.  Riku can be knocked out of it by having his cards broken or taking damage.  The card that triggers Dark Mode won't fire, so be careful playing King Mickey cards if you're about to die! 

  There's also a 'Rapid Break' system where you get double the points if you break an enemy's card within a very tiny timeframe that it's played.  It's not something you can really take advantage of apart from keeping a high-value card ready to play and playing it as soon as you see the other card come out, but it's a big help to getting your berserk on. 

There's a new mechanic in Duels too.  Play a card that matches the value that an enemy plays and you're given a triangle reaction prompt.  You're given a short minigame where the enemy will play three/five/seven cards and you're given four/six/eight seconds to break every one.  Succeed and you trigger a strong attack; fail and Riku gets stunned for several seconds.  This was the thing I tripped on because I thought you had to match every card instead of just break them.  Duels don't even cost you cards the way Sleights do!

The red portion of his lifebar is the damage this single Duel is inflicting.  I am shredding him! 

 Riku has the reload card, but it requires zero charge time and doesn't require more time to work the more you use it in battle, though you still have to wait for the card return animation to finish before you can do anything.  A strategy I used was to trigger a Duel, mash cross to literally throw my deck at my opponent, and then reload immediately to repeat the cycle of hurting.  You're not penalized for 'wasting' cards failing to break the enemy's in a Duel so maybe this was expected behavior? 

Riku silently gets one grey enemy card added to his deck for the duration of a world, such as Defender in Hollow Bastion, but you can't keep those for other worlds.  Instead, you get to keep boss cards and can keep all of them in your deck at once.  Were there powerful effects you wanted to use in Sora's story but couldn't fit them in?  Not a problem here!  I got a lot of use out of the Dragon Maleficent card considering its downside (slower reload times) doesn't even apply to Riku...and it's the very first boss card you get even. 

While there were several gameplay improvements to me, the story is lacking.  Riku still needs to traverse the Disney worlds and all, but almost all of them are devoid of any plot content.  Riku creates a world, is given the Key to Beginnings, and slaughters his way to that door and destroys the boss hiding behind it.  Most of the story stuff happens between the halls, focused on Riku's struggle to resist the power of darkness and the machinations of the Organization, including some new faces unique to this side of the story and expanding scenes we saw earlier through Sora's run.  His worlds are really short too.  Sora had to roam around the worlds to open the Beginnings->Guidance->Truth doors while here, there are only a handful of rooms.  You still use map cards but ones irrelevant to this mode like Moogle Room and Alchemic Waking don't drop. 

This is one world...

...and this is the final.  Four whole rooms! 

I think that about covers the differences.  There are a few!

 I really did enjoy this mode.  I'm usually a sucker for customization but the fixed deck just worked for me somehow.  I didn't need to hunt down Moogle Points to buy better cards or sit through sequences that largely were the same from KH1, and the card combat flowed better for me.  I guess it's because they 'hand crafted' enemy decks as well as your own, so I didn't have to struggle nearly as hard as with Sora.  That and on top of the AP bonuses you could take, the three-card Duel had a big ground-based area of effect if you triggered it, making random battles pretty easy.  With Sora, deleting groups of enemies relied on Sleights and if I ran dry on cards before they were all gone, I was screwed.  Dark Mode Riku even gets the dash-spam move from KH1 when you fought him as a boss here as a Sleight, but I always went with Duels because they were so strong for basically zero cost.  All it took was being able to page through the deck to get the right card before the enemy's disappeared off-screen. 

There's no downside to using Dark Mode either, not even a plot-relevant reason considering Riku's trying not to fall back under darkness' sway.  Once you trigger it, you can stay in it for the rest of battle if you're careful and tear shit apart at the same time.  Combo it with Duels too! 

Though he was a villain, I really liked the “what measure is a non-human?” as well as the “cloning blues” angle they played with Riku Replica.  Also sorry, TVTropes links.  Poor guy was pretty tragic.  

Sora's difficulty gradually grew until it spiked during Twilight Town and Castle Oblivion proper's floors, with the bosses there giving me the most trouble.  I really only had trouble with the Vexen fight because I didn't understand how Duels worked and he had a bunch of health for that point in the game too.  Trickmaster in Wonderland killed me once too because your deck is terrible, and the final Riku Replica fight got me, though I figured out using the Jafar card at the start (enemies can't break your cards no matter what value you play) and whittling him down early was a great strategy.  Oh, and Guard Armor killed me a few times because I tried to use regular Dark Mode Sleights on it and burned all of my cards.  I honestly didn't really have trouble with anything else in the game.  I took AP whenever it was available and I think I had a total of 22 DP at the end, with the rest going into HP and that was largely unnecessary.  And this was in a mode where the only in-battle heal was based on a random drop, could be broken, and a card I didn't throw into a stocked combo because I wanted my cards more. 

It helped that Duels never got old. 

So yeah, I actually had fun with this.  I won't say it redeems the entirety of Sora's story for me, but I'm actually really glad I decided to give this a try instead of trashing the rest.  Color me impressed. 

Final stats. 

[tominicholland]

Time of Your Life

Pairing: Harry Holland x Protagonist (brief, planned), Tom Holland x Protagonist (main, planned)

Synopsis: Jacob Batalon’s youngest cousin (Protagonist) is now – as of August – 18 years old. At the nearly-ripe age of 17, she accompanied her cousin to the Spider-Man: Homecoming premiere where she grows acquainted with the younger crowd of the star-studded cast and – most importantly – piques the interest of two Holland boys, Harry (who’s the same age) and Tom (who’s three years her senior).

Author’s Note: TOM HOLLAND AND HARRISON OSTERFIELD FINALLY MAKE THEIR WAY INTO THIS STORY WOOOOOO HOOOOOOO. In other news, this is kind of lengthy because it goes into a whole story about the protagonist’s school crush, Jake, and how much of an ass he is and how the Holy Trinity helps her forget the douche, and yeah. Such excitement!1!!!!! If you like stories about girls getting over fuckbois, read this!!!!! 

Trigger Warnings: Protagonist has somewhat of a breakdown, there’s mentions of suicide but they’re brief (not even central to the plot) 

Word Count: 2,992 

Part I // Part II //Part III: The Holy Trinities   In which the protagonist learns of the two holiest trinities out there: Intellectualism, False Hope, and Loneliness; Tom Holland, Jacob Batalon and Harrison Osterfield. 

My role in student government (ASB) was plain and simple as the Attorney General. Like the Attorney General of the United States, I basically represent the ASB in conflicts and preside over the “legal” aspects of clubs, such as the drafting of their charters and other procedural duties. Each day I’d be allowed to leave Study Period fifteen minutes early to assume my position at the front desk of the Student Government office and consume my lunch before parents, staff and students came barging in with worthless questions and futile threats. Study Period was with Vicky, Sam, Imani and Carlos in Mr. Rosenblatt’s class that day, and we noticed that he was unusually irked with us. Normally, he’d pull up a sixth chair whenever First Period classes served as Study Period homeroom and openly prattle on with his favourite students, but that he didn’t seem quite in the mood. Neither did I, after Third Period, in between.

I’d already had a whole block period – two hours – of the four of my friends jabbering about how, technically, if the premiere was going to supplant my prom experience, Harry Holland could be my “date,” and I’d grown sick of it. On top of that, during Third Period AP Calculus, I’d dozed off after the sugar in the Slurpee wore on me. Jake was in the class with me and, just like in Mr. Rosenblatt’s class, he sat across the room from me. Instead of ignoring me, his chair was perfectly positioned to give him a spectacular view of my drool dripping onto my textbook and the scaly calculator imprint on my cheek when I finally woke up from that glorious slumber.

Jake had somewhat of a laugh and a smirk and a snigger, with dark coiffure of John F. Kennedy, Jr. volume. His lips were thin and his eyebrows the polar opposite, but somehow the lines of hair above his eyes remained symmetrical and tame. When he turned to the side, his profile was perfectly chiselled – his jaw and cheekbones formed a perfect triangle-like dip when he would suck his cheeks in, and his nose was big but not too big. And he had light brown skin, the perfect mixture of his father’s and mother’s. It was miraculous that this was what my mental capacities generated with a lack of sleep, and even more of a blessing that Jake was laughing more to himself that to his friends who were perplexed by rotations problems.

This reel of Jake’s amusement from my struggle to stay awake replayed and replayed in my head as I was fighting my anxiety to saunter towards Mr. Rosenblatt. Jake sat in the chair closest to his desk and the wall, so he had a perfect view of Mr. Rosenblatt on his desktop and anyone who came up to ask him questions.

As I approached Mr. Rosenblatt I saw Jake’s head perk up a little. His phony attentiveness became clear as his eyes skimmed lines of Shakespeare and averted to me. The brown circles rested on the left corners of his eyes as his smirk curled on the right side of his mouth. Indubitable eavesdropping done by the prettiest boy in school, and it was on my conversation.

I cleared my throat: “Mr. Rosenblatt?”

“Yes, Ms. Maja,” he scrunched up his nose like a little mole rat. Mr. Rosenblatt kind of looked like one but no one scrutinized his looks because we all knew he had breast cancer, and for our class, he’d missed the most days for chemotherapy. It fell under some cardinal sin to give him shit because he was dying.  

“I just wanted to ask if I could go to the ASB right now instead of later,” I prefaced. “I finished part of the CRQ’s in class but I wasn’t feeling well in calculus –”

Jake deadass cackled.

“Uhm, Jake?” Mr. Rosenblatt inquired. “Do you have anything to contribute to this bilateral conversation?”

“I’ll make it trilateral by letting you know that Maja did indeed fall into a deep slumber in calculus and I watched it from an admirer’s distance,” Jake’s charmingly apprised our teacher and caused Mr. Rosenblatt to chuckle along with him.

“Well, if that’s the case Ms. Maja, I’ll let you go to the ASB. It must be quieter there,” Mr. Rosenblatt was right. Everyone was still in Study Period and no parents, staff nor students could pester those in the office until lunch.

I felt all heat escape from my face as I turned a pale colour and dragged myself back to my seat to get my things. I reached for my backpack as Vicky asked, “Hey, where are you going?” 

“The ASB,” I said. I yanked my bag from the back of my chair and tossed it over my shoulder. My right hand shoved the door open when she exclaimed that all of them would join me; I used my foot as a door prop and said in a stern tone, “No. I’m gonna take a nap in the beanbag in the back office. I can’t talk.” I didn’t even have to fake being tired. A yawn escaped me at the perfect time.

“Oh… ok,” she said, taken aback. Somehow she and the others couldn’t put two and two together, that I was stressed above all things about this even though it was a month away, and if I really thought about it, it a few weeks away, and if I really, really, really wanted to torture myself, I’d realize that it was three school weeks away, right after exams.

Study Period was only about thirty-five minutes, so I had twenty minutes of napping time in total. Ideally I’d use the fifteen minutes to gather lunch, but seeing as I’d stopped by 7-11 earlier I bought myself some Hot Cheetos and a Caesar Salad to serve for my afternoon meal. I did, however, trot to the vending machine outside the office to get a blue Gatorade.

When I came back I popped my salad open and ripped the chip bag and dug in. The bell rang and I heard all the eager underclassmen literally racing each other to the lunch lines. I rolled my eyes and disturbed the desktop in front of me, launched Google Chrome and opened Twitter, hoping to find some interesting articles.  

The door swung open after a good ten minutes, while I was enjoying a New Yorker article by Jia Tolentino, who disparaged some book by Ivanka Trump. Lo and behold, it was Jake; lo and behold, I was stupid and almost choked on my salad.

“Oooh,” he teased. “Just the Attorney General I wanted to see.”

“I’m the only Attorney General,” I sassed.

“I know, I know,” he knew then that he’d be more circumspect in his statements. “I’m in the same AP Government class with you in Preston’s room. I gotta know how this shit works, right?”

He slammed his hands on the counter in front of me, stood on the tips of his toes and peered down at my screen. “God, you’re such a nerd,” he poked. “Always reading some dumb shit that’s not so dumb.”

He let the balls of feet drop back to the ground, placed his elbows on the counter, crossed them, and then let his chin rest on the formative lump of his hands. Jake was a south paw and his left hand overlapped his right. Always.

“Is there anything you’d like me to help you with?” I questioned.

“Yeah,” he had that smirk again, which oozed of a sort of brazenness and insolence that made me cower behind my laptop. “I want to take Sami to Prom.”

Everything by my eyes were completely frozen, and they gave him an icy glare.  

“Not your Sam,” this was a gratuitous reply. “Sami the soccer player.” I

 knew her – she was just as tall as I was (5’8), a bit more fit than I was (she was a tri-sport athlete, I merely did swim), was blonde (I could never compete there), and popular.

“And?” I’d no idea why he needed to tell me this.

“I just felt like I needed to tell you,” he teased.

Contrary to the strong woman I believed to myself to be in that moment, I was on the verge of tears. This was kind of brutal.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he went back on the tip of his toes again and looked at me over the screen. This time he was sterner and his rosy cheeks of douchebaggery faded into the pallor of a self-aware asshole. “I was just shitting around. Don’t cry. This is like sophomore year all over again when I sat next to you. I don’t want to get in trouble with the ASB Dean for making the Attorney General cry so just.. j-just..” he started laughing to himself again, as one would laugh in a surreal situation.

I swiveled farther away from him. Thank god for swivel chairs.

“Look, I’m trying not to be an asshole here, okay? I’ve been meaning to tell you this since last week. I figured Sam’d already told you because she was right behind me when I said it –”

My nostrils flared and my pupils shrank.

“Yeah, I know she knew and I know you know. I was only entertaining the thought of asking you, even went so far and thinking what it’d be like to have you as a date. You can fill in the rest. But I didn’t not ask you because I was judging your friends. I didn’t ask you because I don’t want to be the asshole who leads you on.”

As intense and painful as this moment was for me, I did my best to relive it just to clarify to myself that there was no yelling, no melodrama. Jake said this to me in hushed tones in a span of ten minutes and left.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. Fifth period AP Chem was just god-awful. Carlos was there with me and I didn’t feel like filling him in on Jake or letting him copy my quiz on poly-atomic ions, so I walked up to the front of the class while our teacher, Ms. Romualdez, was lecturing and moaned to her about how I had to go to the nurse. I was a depressed, sobbing mess and needed to go home no matter what. She understood, and all twelve other kids in the class understood in respectful silence. And even though I was annoyed with him, Carlos was gracious enough to walk me to the front office, where Nurse Kelly was.

Nurse Kelly was the most neglectful nurse to ever make a cameo in my life. She dutifully attended to students who had more tangible sicknesses, but when a mentally distraught child came in, she was notorious for simply calling their parents and asking if they were stable enough to walk home. Granted, though she wasn’t a therapist or psychologist, she could have at least done more to help people who were sick of high school, as most people should for the sake of the youth. However, on this specific day, I wasn’t having it. I needed her sloppy caretaking to get me a pass off the premises of Hell and back into my bed. And she happily obliged.

When I got home, my mom was so concerned about me. She cupped my face in her hands and screamed at me, “Don’t tell me you tried to kill yourself, please, not like that one girl we read about when you were in middle school!” “Phoebe King? What? Mom, mom no!” I ripped myself from her grip and started marching up the stairs. “Mom, just leave me alone, I started crying because I didn’t get any sleep last night and I don’t understand Chemistry and equivocation in Macbeth!” I was already in my room when I screamed this last part: “I’M SO STUPID I HAVE TO USE NO FEAR SHAKESPEARE ON SPARKNOTES BECAUSE I HATE THE FOOTNOTES!”

My face sank into my pillow and my body relaxed as I fell into an effortless nap – a nap where you can’t forge an entire plotline in your dreams and can only remember the climax of whatever your soul told you mind to project. I felt like I was enjoying it until my phone rang. It was a Facetime video call from Jacob.

“Hey, Cuz, he greeted me. His face was at the center of the screen and I could tell he was looking down at his phone. I didn’t think he was at his house because I didn’t recognize the color and texture of the ceiling. “How ya doing? Tita (Aunt) told me that you had a shitty day.”

“Oh yeah,” I rolled my eyes and sniffled a little. I saw my face in the little screen thing and saw that my eyes were ridiculously puffy and red. “I just told her I had a shit time at school.”

“Hey, man you know me, I dropped out of college and now you’re our only hope. Ya gotta become a doctor or something,” he joked, “because if anyone had a brain like yours and didn’t do anything with it, that’d be a waste.”

I smiled. Jacob always lifted me up when I felt like I wasn’t enough for the world academically, so he had a bunch of canned pep talks that would get me to cheer up no matter how incompatible they were with the situation I was in. My self-deprecation was, to Jacob, the root of all evil, so everything could be cured if he tried to talk that down. I had to stop him here, though, because this wasn’t an academic struggle or an inadequacy. I felt heartbroken because of a boy.

“It’s not because of school being hard or anything, it’s just that Jake pulled an asshole move on me today,” and so I went through the motions of everything, with Jacob barely making any interjections like “daaaaaammmmnnn” like he does in interviews. He’s an all-around attentive person.

“So it’s because you’re too smart for him,” this wasn’t a question he was asking, it was a fact.

“I guess. If you want to put it that way. He made fun of me from the get-go about me being bookish. Always thought I was an undercover college student,” I chuckled and sniffled at the same time. “But like, I feel like I’m experiencing the Holy Trinity that all the nerd girls go through in high school: intellectualism, false hope and loneliness.”

“Aw,” I heard a voice say from the background.

“Wait – am I on speaker?” I asked.

“Uhhhhh….” Jacob was collecting details to build a story as to why we weren’t talking in confidence.

“Kuya (brother, older male cousin)!” I screamed. “Who is that?”

“Listen, Maja, I’m so sorry but my Beats ran out of battery and your mom really pressed me to call you, and you know you’re like a sister to me and I thought you tried pulling some weird shit in school so I called you and –” Jacob’s phone was snatched from his hand. It flipped onto the faces of two white guys – one shirtless with a killer jaw and brown eyes and the other in a black v-neck shirt, blond hair and powdery blue eyes.

“Hey, Maja,” the one on the right with the blond hair greeted me with an awkward wave. He had a deep voice that rung out in an English accent, and he pronounced my name with the stress in the first syllable: “Maaw-huh.”

“Hey,” the other one waved shyly.

“This is Harrison, but you can call me Haz,” the blond one smiled.

“And I’m Tom, and you can call me Tom,” he laughed lightly at his joke before he realized the gravity of the situation as Jacob walked into the shot from behind them.

Jacob placed his arms around Tom and Haz and sighed. “You said you experienced the ‘Holy Trinity’ of high school, but we’re the Holy Trinity from Spider-Man and we’re here for you.”

“Yeah,” Harrison – I mean Haz – added. “We hope you don’t mind that Jacob’s been talking to us about you, and all that’s been happening regarding your attendance at the premiere.”

“But – but we didn’t know about all this stuff about this other Jake until now, darling” Tom interrupted. “That wasn’t at all expected and we’re sorry. Jake’s Beats did die and we were in the hotel room with him and we can’t go out because there’s a mob of fans trying to take a peek at the Spider-Man suit –”

“Shut up, Tom, she doesn’t want to hear this!” Haz exclaimed.

Tom. As in Tom Holland.

Harrison. As in Harrison Osterfield.

Spider-Man and his lovely assistant were joining forces with my cousin to cheer me up.

“Well, the point is, darling, is that we’re excited to finally meet you at the premiere and we’re going to do our best to make sure you have a damn good time that you can rub in that arsehole Jake’s face.”

“Yeah,” Jacob nodded along. “And Tom, you can cuss, you know.” Tom looked quizzically at Jacob.

“It’s just weird hearing you say ‘arse.’ You’re not a euphemistic kind of guy in hotel rooms, usually,” Jacob giggled.

“Jacob, I’m talking to a lady. More importantly, your little cousin,” Tom explained.

After a few awkward exchanges of excitement and anticipation, we ended the video chat (well, I did, because Tom had the phone in his hands and didn’t know how to end the call).

“Dammit, how do I turn it off?” he yelled as Jacob, Haz and I laughed.

“Bye!” I waved at the camera and hit the red button. Back to my home screen. All I could think about was how stupid I was for not screenshotting the video call for proof that I’d spoken with Tom and Haz.

[tryingthisfangirlthing]

Prompt: fem!Doctor/Rose and meeting at a pride parade? :3 (or going together to a pride parade if you prefer to write a non-AU!)

Basically I can’t really do meet-cutes or beginning bonding talk, so I went with the latter. I hope you like this nonetheless. :)

Also, this is longer than I envisioned. But holy crap I’ve written something after barely writing for weeks! Not complaining. \o/

The pop-dance numbers played by the passing floats reverberate in her chest, the volume toeing the delineation of “too loud” — but it has to in order to be heard over the crowds lining the streets, at least five people deep. The rainbows painted on cheeks and hanging from windows and wrapped around shoulders and plastered across posters and vehicles are a feast of color for her eyes, this body so much more in tune with all of its senses. The summer sun warms her back through her light blue oxford, sweat beginning to prickle at the nape of her neck under her hair, but she doesn't mind the heat.

“Isn't this brilliant, Rose? The grit, the spunk, the passion, the sheer joy in the air!” There's so much life, she can't help but grin, broadly.

“Yeah!” Beside her, Rose twists her hips and shimmies in place to the beat, lightly swinging their joined hands, and returns her grin, tongue tucked between her teeth.

The Doctor allows herself one moment to pretend they are what they appear to be.(Surely, surely Rose knows everyone smiling at them thinks they're a couple, but sometime in between leading Rose out of the TARDIS and being handed various pamphlets and a foam unicorn stress toy, Rose's fingers had loosely laced themselves through hers, and she wasn't so noble as to not tighten her grip and draw Rose a little closer.)

“I wish you’d said we were coming here,” Rose says in a quieter moment, in between the trucks, though she still has to raise her voice above the whistles and chatter and the Doctor still has to lean down a little and listen closely. “I would’ve dressed for it.”

She blinks, her eyes widening, and looks at Rose again. “How would you’ve wanted to dress?”(Why would she have wanted to dress any particular way? And her hearts speed up and she wants to kick herself for making assumptions, but there was the Ricky the Idiot and Adam and Jack and people her own age and certainly no women…)

Rose inhales, her eyebrows shooting up and her grip tightening. “Oh. I thought — you knew I was bi. I thought that was why we were here. Isn’t it?” There’s something swirling in her dark amber eyes, a mix of emotions the Doctor can’t name.

Someone jostles them from behind, with an almost-unintelligible “Pardon!” and the Doctor nearly chokes on her hearts in her throat.(No, just because she finds women attractive doesn’t mean she finds her attractive, but that split second of hope…)

“Is it?” Rose peers up at her, waiting on an answer, searching her face.

The Doctor shakes her head. “I didn’t know. I’m glad — I’m very glad, though.” She offers her a breathless smile, maybe a little hesitant, nervous (because all of a sudden she is, even though this is Rose) but completely genuine.

“Oh.” Rose holds her gaze for a moment, an equally hesitant smile playing at the corners of her lips. “That’s good.” She glances down, at their hands, flexing her fingers, and the Doctor reflexively squeezes her hand.

Rose’s next words are nearly drowned out by “Young man, there’s no need to feel down,” and the Doctor shakes her head, leaning in closer. Rose rises on her toes, her breath tickling her ear. “Why are we here, then, Doctor? Not that — not that you can’t just want to come in support, or something. I mean, that’s great, too. Or are you, like, transgender, or...?” She makes a vague gesture, towards the nonbinary and intersex group. “With the turning into a woman bit? You never really said.”

The Doctor waits for the blaring music to pass them, debating for a split second exactly how much of her soul she wants to bare, except it was never really in question that Rose can have any part of her she wants.She chooses her words carefully, mindful of the other who might hear her raised voice, though the words are meant for Rose alone. “We don’t see gender like you do. Humans.” Rose nods. “But relationships for us were — very strategic. It wasn’t about love. So it’s good seeing love fought for, and celebrated.”

Rose nods again, slowly, glancing down again at their joined hands and trailing her thumb over her skin. “So gender doesn’t really matter to you? Or does it? Does-does species?” She lowers her voice as the music dies down again a bit, glancing towards the parade and letting out a short laugh as a leatherman in a dog hood and collar tilts his head at her. “Humans, I mean. Would it matter?” There’s more of a question in her voice than the question itself warrants.(And oh, dear Gallifrey, she can’t believe Rose might — her head is spinning, terrified to hope, unable not to.)

“Not in the least.” (And the Time Lords’ rules can be damned to the Void.)The Doctor glances at the parade herself now, two drag queens gorgeous in flamboyant feathers catching her eye. Taking a breath, she tries for nonchalant, knowing the moment the words leave her lips that she’s failed. Her voice softens, without her permission, as she leans in again. “Does it matter to you?”(Are you trying to ask me if I want you? she can’t force across her lips, coward that she is.)

“Not when it comes to you.” Swallowing, Rose meets her eyes. “I thought you would care. ‘Stupid ape’ and all.”

The Doctor winces at the words her previous self had enunciated with such frequency, and she shakes her head, desperately. It spills over her tongue, laying her hearts bare: “I don’t — I don’t care about age gaps, either. Not even about a hell of one. Not at all. Or about anything else. Not when it comes to you.”

That draws a brilliant grin from Rose, one she basks in for a split second. Then her companion uses the unknotted tie looped around her neck to tug her down a bit further, bracing herself on their still-joined hands as she rises to speak in the Doctor’s ear over “Baby, this is what you came for; lightning, strikes every time she moves.”“I want to kiss you. Is that okay?”

“Yes. Of course. If you want. Any time. Well maybe not any time. Maybe not while we’re running. But most times. Especially —” She’s nodding, babbling (yes, dear Gallifrey, yes, please) and then Rose’s lips are on hers.

The world stops; her time senses shut down, the Vortex in her head stilling to a halt for a split second, and then sensation crashes over her again. Rose’s lips, a little dry but soft against her own, the faint taste of honey melon lip gloss, Rose’s grip on her hand tightening. She winds one arm around her and clutches Rose to herself, and only the feeling of a quiet whimper against her mouth prompts her to draw back a little, searching Rose’s slightly dazed expression.(Delight sparks at the thought that it’s because of her.)

“All right?”

Rose nods, taking in a deep gulp of air, her gaze darting down to her lips again, as she beams. “More than.”

“Oh good.” Paying no heed to the wolf-whistles of nearby parade-goers, the Doctor dips her head to press her lips to Rose’s again.

They don’t surface for air again until something small, flat, and crinkly lands in the Doctor’s hair: a condom packet. The man in the “Stamp Out AIDS” t-shirt wiggles a hand at them, winking and mouthing, “Use gloves, too, and have fun!”

The Doctor glowers at him. Rose leans against her, a tinge of pink in her cheeks, laughing loud and long. “Oh my God, Jack!”

[arcadeigannon]

Hi , any ideas on how to make a great start in the FOB fandom ? Like , which songs should I listen to first ? More then half of my friends / mutuals/ acquaintances listen to them and I want to join in too .

AAAAAAAA hi!!! so for me the first place i Really started listening to fob past random songs i’d heard was the young blood chronicles – for their 2013 album save rock and roll they did a music video for each song that makes up a full short film. its an amazing album and a really easy way to dip your toes in i think!! (tw for some blood/gore, drugs, creepy cult stuff…its wild igndfjbdnf)

past that im not sure if you’ve heard anything by them at all but their Classique hits are a must, like sugar, dance dance, this ain’t a scene, thnks fr th mmrs, i don’t care…definitely listen to their newest song champion if you havent already!! disloyal order of water buffaloes is a personal favorite. their more recent Big Hits are my songs know what you did in the dark (which you’ll hear in ybc), centuries, and uma thurman, and those are really good too!! once youve listened to a few songs here and there i’d honestly just start listening through the albums when you can bc that’s what i did! i worked my way backwards after watching ybc, so i listened to ab/ap (their most recent album), then folie a deux, ioh, futct, tttyg, and evening out.

also here’s my fob tag and my patrick stump tag PLEASE by all means feel free to stalk them!!

ps i have some rlly cool awesome fob mutuals who are all probably much more well-versed than i ajshdkdjgnnbdkf @pmvstump @ruberiot @ginassf @benzedrinez @crytpozoology @vaughnstumph @trohmance @yngmnc