#i’m trying to reconnect to myself reading old posts

[chilschuck]

AAAA i love your blog!! could i pls request a post-canon scenario where chilchuck finally admits his feelings for reader now that they’re not co-workers anymore >_< (assuming reader joined the laios party during the story)

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ WAAAAH ANON i’m so happy you love my stuff!! i LOVEDDD writing this for you, and i have another request in my askbox that’s similar that i’m going to do as well! this was super fun, and i found myself enjoying this idea and coming up with things i could do with it!!! i hope you enjoy!!! <333

— SHELTER: chilchuck x gn!reader.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none, sfw fluff!! takes place post-canon.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 1745 (got carried away again…)

✦ i’m scared to reread this, but right now I’m actually happy with it!! i hope you are too!! <333 i tried my best to keep spoilers to a minimum, and to make this fun to read!! also, the title comes from the song shelter by ray lamontagne, which i listened to while writing it. i hope you enjoy!!!

With your party’s adventure finally over, you had decided to try and finally settle down as much as you could. With everyone finding their own new place in life, you did your best to find one too.

You couldn’t deny it had been rather lonely lately. Your own home was empty, a small place you had tried your best to make feel cozy. With your old party members living their own lives, you hoped you could live yours. But evidently, no matter how hard you tried, your mind always went back to him.

It was a bittersweet feeling; imagining him finally living healthily, working on helping others, and even maybe starting up that shop he talked about wanting. It wasn’t like you never saw him, but going on with every day life without him felt… mundane.

Chilchuck was working on himself, reconnecting with his family, and building the future he had hoped for. That alone helped you feel as much at peace as possible. Your feelings, to you, were not nearly as important as his own happiness. So here you waited, counting down the days you’d get to see him again. Maybe he’d be happy to see you too.

Little did you know, Chilchuck was devastatingly nervous. Buttoning up his shirt with shaky fingers, he tried his best to look as decent as he possibly could. It was the final thing he felt he needed to move on, and he wasn’t going to let himself ruin it. Not this, he told himself. There were some things he refused to let slip through his fingers, and one of them were his feelings he had developed for you.

Through it all, you had been by his side. An integral part of the party, you had built him up when he needed it most. Looking past all the mistakes, all the cynicism he liked to cloud himself with, you proved how much you simply cared. Not only for him, but for everyone. Chilchuck had fallen in love with you, and for once, he didn’t want to push those feelings down.

He had bought the flowers he knew you liked, tied with a sweet ribbon that he felt maybe was a bit too much. In fact, maybe all of this was a bit too much, but he hoped it’d work. Chilchuck even went to talk to Marcille about it all, a sign in his own mind that he was more smitten than he had been in years. Not to mention that he had, in fact, reconnected with his ex-wife, and had gained the closure he needed to take this big of a step. There was nothing holding him back now, and he could only hope the words of encouragement he was given would hold true.

Chilchuck had visited your home before, always noting just how comfortable he felt there. You were always happy to have guests lately, and he felt himself praying that this would be the case this time, too. Fist raised in front of your door, he took a deep breath before rapping it against the wood.

The knock came as a surprise, but not as surprising as the person who was behind it. Your eyes widened, his name leaving your lips in delight. “Chilchuck, hello!” It was slightly out of breath from the sheer excitement you had to try and suppress at seeing him here in front of you. Moving to the side, you motioned him in. “Do you… Want to come in?”

One hand behind his back still, trying his best to not snap the stems of the delicate flowers between his fingers, he nodded. “Yeah, sorry for the sudden visit.”

Shaking your head, you walked inside to prepare him something to drink. “Not at all! You know me… I could never say no to seeing you.”

It felt like another of Cupid’s arrows shot him through the chest. Maybe he shouldn’t look too deeply into your words, at least not yet. Following you inside, Chilchuck found himself trying his best to find anything to look at of interest. The plants on your shelves, the well loved books on the table, the occasional trinket you had decided you couldn’t live without… Everything that made it feel so much like you.

While you fiddled around in your small kitchen, Chilchuck cleared his throat. His mouth felt dry, and to try and slow down the thoughts rushing through his head, he spoke up again. “You know… You’ve done a great job with this place. I remember when you bought it.”

You couldn’t help but smile, thinking back fondly of how proud you were. Preparing you both glasses of wine, you turned your attention to him for a moment. “That means a lot, thank you. How have things been with the guild?”

Chilchuck hummed, eyes studying a particular painting on your wall. “Good… Pretty much the usual. Things are going pretty well. What about you, anything interesting since we last saw each other?”

Other than your constant war on your feelings for the half-foot, you’ve been trying new hobbies in order to distract yourself. As you turned to hand him the glass, you racked your brain for something to say. Giving him a sheepish smile, you shook your head. “Not particularly. Here, it’s one you like. Let’s go sit, yeah?”

He held your gaze for a moment, the flowers in his hand a constant reminder of what he was here for. Swallowing hard, he opened his mouth to speak. “Yeah. But first, I have something to give you…”

Finally taking the hand from behind his back, he steeled himself as much as he could before holding them out to you. Quickly setting the glasses down, you let out a sound of surprise. Your hands reached out for them, as delicate as possible.

Chilchuck felt like his face was a bit too hot for something as simple as this, but it’s been such a long time since he’s had to really woo anyone. How the hell did he manage to do this all those years ago? Scratching the back of his head, he broke the silence between the two of you.

“They’re your favorites, right? I happened to see ‘em and thought you’d be happy.”

Although Chilchuck felt like he was doing a piss poor job at this, you felt like you were swooning all over again. You know how much he used actions as a love language, yet could you even call it that in this situation? Friends did nice things for each other, yet…

His brows were furrowed in determination, the tips of his ears rosy and suddenly you felt like maybe there was something there. Your gaze fell to the buds in your hands, freshly picked and done so with care. The smile that made its way on your features was unabashed.

“Yes, yes they’re my favorites… I can’t believe you remembered that. Let me go get something to put them in. Thank you so much, Chil.”

It was worth it just to see you smile like that. Even if he felt a little ridiculous at the action, it paid off when you held the vase proudly in your hands. “I’m going to put them on my desk. I love them…” You spoke softly, your own cheeks turning that shade of pink he loved so much. For a few moments, it became silent again, his brain scrambling for what to say next.

“You asked me about my plans after our adventure was over. There… was something I wasn’t honest about. And I want to be honest about it now.”

Chilchuck made sure to correctly word everything he needed to say. Taking time in between his sentences, his gaze returned to yours. There was something there that you had only hoped you’d seen in the past; a taste of desire.

“I want to be there for you. I know we’re no longer coworkers, so…” The words fell silent, you remaining patient through his pauses. Softly, you gave a gentle phrase of reassurance. “You’re already there for me, I know that, Chil—”

Raising a hand, he silenced you. Contemplation took over his features, that worry line between his brows that you always found endearing still making an appearance. You waited for him to elaborate.

“…As more than friends.”

Your heart stopped. Did you hear him correctly? Certainly you did, your voice having gotten stuck in your throat as you tried to wrap your head around the weight those words carried. Was he saying that, this whole time, you’ve been a goal all along? Hearing your name, you snapped your attention back to him.

“I want to be more honest with how I feel. I know how I used to be, and I’m working towards fixing it.” His deep brown eyes held a small glimmer of hope, of vulnerability. Chilchuck was trying, and he was trying for you.

Feeling as if the wind was knocked out of your lungs, you asked shakily, “You want…?”

He smiled, a small etch in his features. Huffing, Chilchuck fiddled with the collar of his shirt. “You’re really gonna make me spell it out for you? I… Have feelings for you. If you don’t feel the same I get it, don’t—“

Before he could finish his sentence, you hurriedly set the flowers down before just about tackling him. The shock of hearing him say exactly what you’d been wishing for so long melted into a need to relay exactly how you felt. Chilchuck grunted at the impact, nearly toppling over.

“Of course I feel the same! You think I’d put up with your grumpy ass for this long if I didn’t?” You couldn’t help the teasing words that followed, pulling away from him to grin widely at him. “Can I kiss you?”

Your excitement caught him even more off guard, eyes widening at your question. “Sorry, that was probably a bit too much—“

Instead of giving you a verbal answer, Chilchuck tugged you to his lips in a desperate attempt to get you to just shut up and do it. You happily obliged, only pulling away to ask one more question. “How long?”

Chilchuck panted, confusion evident on his features. “What?”

“How long have you felt this way?” Your curiosity was getting the better of you, wondering just how long you two had managed to dance around each other like this. Chilchuck sighed, giving the only answer he could think to say:

“Too long.”

— dividers by @/cafekitsune! <3

[whentherewerebicycles]

somehow it’s noon already!! but it’s been a productive morning. in my earlier research i’d been so focused on their first-gen numbers i somehow missed or didn’t fully register the fact that fully 40% of this school’s incoming students each year are transfer students from two-year colleges, which is obviously !!! a specific student population with unique needs that i should be prepared to address in whatever presentation i put together! so i did some initial research and reading in the secondary literature + then also reached out to two former advisees who transferred from community colleges and always had a lot to say about the types of support structures they wished they’d had. they were v happy to help so i set up calls with them tomorrow and on wednesday so i can pick their brains on how to effectively engage & support transfer students in undergraduate research. i made a promise to myself earlier in the week that i would only do rabbithole-style research if it felt like the topics would’ve been fascinating to me even if i didn’t have this interview, but i actually DO find this question super interesting and it’s also a fun excuse to reconnect with former students i haven’t caught up with in a while.

also man i just feel really happy and so much more like myself when i’m in this mode. my brain is WORKING again! i’m overflowing again with thoughts and ideas! i do think that trying a job outside of academia was a valuable life experience for me... and i do realize that this particular job is not representative of ALL non-academic jobs (if i didn’t have such a difficult manager i might’ve been able to stick it out here a lot longer). but also: i feel like you gotta pay attention to what energizes you vs. drains you in this life! and i am so energized by teaching, mentoring, program design, and doing any kind of research on those topics. i also feel my heart LEAPING at the thought of being immersed in a university community again. it’s funny because i get all the petty academic politics stories from macky and i knoooow how difficult & prickly & impossible academics can be but idk! as far as lightly dysfunctional work environments go, i find this form of dysfunction familiar and comforting! and i feel like the joy of working with students is sufficient recompense for the at-times harrowing experience of working with other academics lol. i’m just ready to be back in a place that i love and i’m really excited about this school in particular.

i was rereading the job posting earlier this week and thinking about how much more work it’s going to be than my current barely-anything job, which i know will probably cut into my loooong leisurely walks and my hours-long cooking sessions and my ability to lie around in bed for hours every day. it’s been nice in some ways to have so much time to do non-work things and to really get myself into good routines with cooking/exercising/etc, but i just DO NOT THRIVE when i have too much unstructured time and i am really, really starved for the casual friendly daily social contact i got from my old job. i feel like too much unstructured time = more time wasted because the time doesn’t feel valuable to me.

and idk i need people time! i need relationships with others! i need it both in a social energy and in an intellectual way... like, my conversations with students and the interpersonal conflicts you have to navigate and the unexpected things that come up in a teaching/mentoring relationship provide so much grist for the ol’ reflective mill. i feel like part of the reason i’ve felt sooooo bored and so annoyingly self-absorbed the past six or seven months is that i just don’t have enough INPUT you know?? i need all those interactions to spark new ways of thinking about something or new ideas or new interests to research. otherwise i’m just stuck in my own head, endlessly turning over my small cares and petty little resentments, without anything to challenge me or push me out of myself or force me to recalibrate the way i’m viewing a situation. anyway idk it’s all good data! as i am always telling students even bad or meh experiences can teach you something useful about who you are & what you need to thrive!!

[ashtrayfloors]

It’s the season of the scent of burn barrels and the sound of trains. It’s the month when all my ghosts come back to me.

I just don’t have much to say. Well, that’s not entirely true. I have a lot to say, but it’s all coming out in poetry or essays about past experiences, or in visual art. Not in journal entry form. I’ve been making copious notes for things-to-write re: my current life, but sometimes I need time to process it before I turn it into any kind of writing, even a journal entry. (Why do you think I’m always writing poems and essays about events from decades ago? Or writing epic-length journal entries about everything that happened in a particular day/week/month?)

It’s not that nothing is going on, currently. I’ve been doing a lot, feeling a lot. There’s of course all the general life-stuff: hustling for freelance gigs and then doing them, printing/collating/packing up zine orders, doing schoolwork with the kiddos. Even that stuff has been going quite well overall (there have been bad days, but not an unmanageable amount), and there have also been a lot of special, interesting, things. My and P.’s sex life has picked back up again after a couple months of it being pretty sparse and lackluster, and thank g-d for that. I’ve been embracing the delights of the season, in all their myriad forms. There have been trips to the north woods to chase the autumn; jaunts downtown for coffee and wandering or for fancy lunches and the art museum. I’ve been lurking in cemeteries, decorating my house for Halloween; I've been dressing up in some way or another, whether I'm going downtown or even just going to run errands, and some days, I dress up even just to stay at home. I’ve been painting pumpkins, making spooky art, writing poems about cryptids and graveyards and ghosts. I’ve been asking myself “what would the Great Pumpkin do?”; waking up in the morning and listening to goth and post-punk playlists while eating candy for breakfast, or drinking red wine or pumpkin beer while cooking dinner, and dancing around my kitchen when that one DJ on my favorite radio station who knows what's up plays Big Star and The 'Mats back-to-back. I've been reading horror and ghost stories and spooky poems, watching my favorite spooky films. I've been re-embracing my obsession with Peter Lorre, as I tend to do every year around this time. (Not that it ever really goes away, it’s just stronger this time of year.) I’ve been redecorating my altars to suit the season, and I’ve gotten back into tarot. I’ve been watching live videos of old favorite bands. My heart has been breaking every day over the state of the world, and I have been trying to do what I can while not getting down on myself for not being able to do more. And on days when it’s not raining, I’ve been sitting outside to watch the leaves fall, to listen to the trains, and to think of long lost friends and old flames.

Which leads me to the main thing I do want to get down. One of the old flames that’s been most heavy on my mind is “Harvey” (aka “Hertz,” neither are his real name but I have referred to him as one or the other in various writings over the years). There are many reasons for this, one being that he had the Inferno-connection too, so in the lead-up to Hallowmas, he is one of the people I think of when I listen to/think of the band. Another being that it was during October/November 2004 that our ‘thing,’ such as it was, was at its peak. After not having spoken for something like 12 or 13 years, we briefly reconnected after Jack’s death, because both of us needed to talk to someone who would get what we were feeling. The initial emails we exchanged were in no way romantic or flirtatious, but then after a while we admitted to each other that we still occasionally thought of one another That Way. And then we both stopped emailing again because, well, nothing good can come from opening all that up.

The night before last, I was thinking of him, and thought about sending him an email, and then I said to myself: “Not today, Satan.” He’s not Satan; Satan in this situation is my fucking feelings and complete inability to let the past be the past when it comes to certain people (such as Harvey). Satan is the fact that it doesn’t even make sense to still have these feelings; we barely had a relationship, we only kissed once, we never slept together. (Though that might be allonormativity talking; sex alone doesn’t make a relationship and lack of sex doesn’t mean a relationship wasn’t real. And I think the fact that we never fucked is part of the reason I have a hard time letting him go completely; there’s more to wonder about, more of a question of what might have been.) Satan is all the ways it could fuck up my life if we dredge all those feelings up again. So I didn’t email him, and I was so proud of myself for my willpower, and then I checked my inbox yesterday morning, and there was an email. From Harvey. And it fucking figures, because there are certain people in my life who seem to know when I’m thinking about contacting them and then contact me, and he has always been one of them. I haven’t even opened the email yet, because I’m scared. It could very well be an innocent ‘just saying hey’ message, except I doubt it is, because he sent it at like 3 a.m. his time and who is up in the middle of the night thinking of old flames only to send them a casual message? Ugh. I just. I’m not looking for advice, really, it just hurts.

[gay-possum-rights]

Hello I am alive. Twitter shit itself so tumblr time is here.

I’m going to be making a new tumblr for myself and my art. I first and foremost wanted to post here an apology.

In recent years I tried to find community and comradery as a lesbian, and thought I found that. It’s not until you step back and truly look at the people you called friends and their ideas and how it shaped and changed your own view points that you truly can see where things went wrong, and how you did wrong in turn.

I posted and dealt a lot with radfems. And for that, I sincerely apologize. My views do not align with theirs anymore.

I reconnected with old friends who have I last seen them come out as nonbinary and trans, and talked a lot with them about where I went wrong and how I realize I could have hurt others. They still love me and have me as their friend, and for that I’m so grateful.

I’ve taken time also to let myself actually view myself as I am, and not through the lens that past groups have said to view myself through. And from that, I realized I’m not cis myself! And it feels great to realize that and actually explore that instead of having it squashed down.

All in all, I want to say I’m sorry for my past actions, and hope you all can forgive me.

Also this account hasn’t been active for 6 months. So hopefully y’all even remember who I am. Either way, I’m trying to be a better person now. Thanks for reading!

[hareefaree]

Journal - 2022 Fall Reflections - Game Design

Over the past semester, I’ve made a number of works - and even though I’m not happy with how I took care of myself this semester I can safely say that this semester of my college experience has been the most productive and creative yet. I have made works that I am incredibly proud of in close succession and have laid the foundation for multiple projects that I will be expanding on in the future! I kinda wanted to review my favorite/most exciting projects and detail why I loved them so much and where I want to take them next.

A project-by-project look under the read me, my animation work will be in a different post! :)

Personally I feel like most of my artistic work in the past few years have been stemming from a sense of grief and longing, which I feel like I’m finally starting to process both in therapy and in work (wow, working from your worst emotions unhealed actually hurts your creative process! Who knew.)  Working from these emotions raw was a good way to get them out, but I can’t say that I wanted to revisit and complete the projects I made prior to this year because they were just that - catharsis, for me. So now I’m trying to build distance again. And while the work I’m creating is still deeply personal (anything you spend hours on is), I feel safe presenting it to others now. 

I’ve also just been kinda… reconnecting with my heritage. I’m starting the process of properly learning Malayalam to help me solidify my ideas for my thesis film, and a few of the projects have just been me going through old family photos and trying to recreate the vibe of the memories I’m trying to capture (stiff and showy brown parties, photos and movies from 70s bombay, family dynamics that are exhausting and complicated but still important). I came out to myself as a lesbian this year and had the opportunity to properly explore my attraction and lesbian culture as myself, which was a long time coming. All the while I feel as through the world has suddenly become more and more reactionary, and I can’t help but emphasize the political dimension of myself and my art. 

All that to say is, I think I’m figuring out why I’m making art. So with the boring background out of the way, let’s get into what I’ve actually been working on!

GAME DESIGN

I had the amazing fortune to take a narrative design course this semester under the guidance of the creator of Twine Chris Klimas (if you’re interested in game design and storytelling just download it! It’s free, open source, and pretty versatile for text-based projects). I’d been struggling with game design prior, I wasn’t connecting with how I was being taught and I severely lacked (and continue to lack) the technical skills to make the games I want to make. But this class reminded me why I loved games so much and did a lot to reestablish my confidence.

Brown Party

Brown Party is a simple twine game and the first game design project of the semester. This was still more catharsis than art to me, if I’m being honest. I think going in there were a lot of ideas floating around - my relationship with my lesbian/desi identity, my issues with brain drain/Indian immigrant community culture, classism, and the overdone anti-artist prejudice trope. This shows in the writing - the narrative structure is a bit of a mess and I was so ambitious in terms of scope. But I made a game! 

I think, over the course of editing and revising this project that I actually stumbled upon some gems, stuff that I want to flesh out. I think it's a game that deserves to be bigger, that deserves more critical thought and cohesion put into it.

I want to genre bend this thing a ton- I kind of realized I was remembering this uncanny sense of space when I went to brown parties when I was younger. I may play with magical realism and whatever the fuck was going on in the RPG-maker horror game genre in the mid 2000s.

I also just want to hone in on the main characters, make them feel more like people and less like I’m ragging on the girls in my community. I have a lot of compassion for desi-american girls! I wish we as a community thought more about the world beyond our families but like. I grew up as that in that environment. It was grueling.

So yeah! I’m gonna be sharpening my unity skills and trying to see what sort of system would best serve this story…but its gonna be tabled for a while.

Ephemera/Your Mother Is Dead

Ahhhhh this game! I made this when I realized I desperately needed to be in therapy and it did me all the better. I had a pretty traumatic incident with my family and channelled all the fear and anxiety I was feeling at the time into this project.

This game, and I struggled a LOT with the technical aspects, ended up very different from my initial conception. The main narrative thread I was playing with was ‘packing up your mothers things after she died,’ and that vision stayed strong.

Game play wise, I was trying to build an inventory system in which you would stack things on top of other things and possibly break the things your mother had (the second person here refers to the player character! I feel like a lot of the aspects of this game were based in my heritage, upbringing specifically), revealing your own complex relationship with her. That didn’t work. I actually almost didn’t submit this because the system didn’t work. But the box packing wasn’t the important part, it was the relationship with your mother.

I think by channelling and solidifying my ideas in the writing, I was able to create a proper roadmap for where I want to take this. I will make the box stacking situation because I think it will help create closure, but I also wanted to incorporate dialogue with people, to have the gameplay be more about learning, knowing, and trying to understand how you feel about your parent.

I want to finish this game. I wanna rework the graphics so that it feels more homey and I want to create something I can properly cry my way through. 

And I will. :)

The Visitor

This was a collaboration with my good friends @addersmire (who led the charge on coding and designing the game) and Moss (I’m not sure if he has a tumblr so. hi moss, they did the sound design). I built the dialogue system (using yarn, they did the bulk of the legwork), wrote the most of the dialogue, and created the intro animation! 

It’s very different from the rest of my work this semester (probs because I was collaborating) and ended up being pretty fucking sick actually! I feel a lot more comfortable with Unity after this (especially bc addersmire is kind of a unity god? they have magical powers I think).

I’ll probs be incorporating yarn more into my work from now on since its such a good system (that needs more people to do forum answers for bc guys these hyper specific problems need answering)

The visitor is just an intro/prototype to a game we spent some time concepting. Not sure if it’ll ever be finished but it was a great experiment - you can play the intro on itch!

[lifewithmomma]

I don’t have much time between being a full time mom, working and trying to keep up with my hobbies and because of that I’m going to keep in mind your time the same way I do mine.

With that I won’t be making post that are 5+ minutes to read (no hate against Long post) but as for right now I don’t have the uninterrupted time with a toddler to make longer post (hopefully some day).

Okay to my topic today… mom friends

As I became a mom I noticed most of my friends become distant, I’ve heard about that happening to new parents but I never imagined it would happen to me.. well it did and I was surprised honestly because we had been friends for years, like best friends.

So after my son came I didn’t really have anyone to lean on besides my partner and family and as much as I love them I really needed that friend that wasn’t obligated to stay by my side but rather chose to.. it was hard I tried finding mommy groups, going into coffee shops, even trying too reconnect with old friends. I haven’t had much luck even to this day but during that whole process I realized a lot about myself and my own interests/hobbies etc, I’ve really learned to love myself and be my own friend because those “friends” that left me weren’t really my friend if they could just leave my life because they were inconvenienced by my child.

I guess what I’m trying to say it instead of focusing on finding that friend right away focus on being your own best friend and then find people with kids! Because your kids can have play dates and you and your friends can sit back and enjoy each others company.

[halfax-a]

Lin and tumblr

The past year has changed how i use this website quite a lot, and i have feelings about it.  Here, i’m writing a mini essay to help me make my mind up what to do about it all.

The first big painful truth i have to face is: i don’t like my dashboard anymore. I find it increasingly hard to sit and just scroll through and pay attention. I know that a few years ago it used to be better balanced - divided into fandom content, meme content and music content. 

This year, more than ever, saw the absolutely bonkers avalanche of fandom content, which cannibalised both music and meme side of things. I experienced genuine mass hysteria with the flood of people, and i don’t regret that or hate that, but all of it ended up feeling more like witnessing a group of friends having an absolutely insane party - through the front window of their hourse, having your nose pressed to the glass. 

Why it felt so much like that, can be anointed to how i chose to interact with tumblr - 2022 was the year i fully turned to blog-crawling. It ended up impacting me a lot - in ways you can see (7 fandom posts in a row reblogged from one blog), and in ways you can’t (all those hours reading and internalising and the r word). Waking up every day, obsessively searching up 5 to 12 different blogs and spending up to 3 hours just reading updates (combined with my brief stint on twitter in the summer) fucked me up quite well, i think. 

Well. Actually. This is not new behaviour for me. Obsessive checking of tumblr blogs, forum threads and twitter accounts dates back well into 2016. But this is the first time it has fucked with my enjoyment of this site, and i am at a loss what to do.

I feel trapped. My brain does not think it can go without tumblr, because twitter, instagram, even the mighty youtube have surrendered to this blue hellsite, and let it reign the supreme doom scroll hole of my life. 

At the same time, i recognise that i am not really truly having a good time on here(or at least as much as i used to). The more time i spend on specific blogs, the less i am on my dash, which means the less opportunities i have to make connections with my remaining mutuals, and to make new ones.

I feel trapped and i feel isolated. A few years ago i used to know at least 5 blogs that were guaranteed to appear in my notes at any given time. There were more tag games, more casual @/ing and more interaction. Nowadays i feel quite alone. Yes, i did bring this onto myself with 1. aforementioned blog crawling and 2. jumping into excessive fandom posting. I’m just afraid that getting out of there is not as easy as it used to be. 

I’ve seen a lot of people move on, or drift out of my circles over the years, which makes reconnecting with old acquintances/old topics of interest difficult or downright impossible. And as i get on in age (in my old age of 22), i get increasingly nervous seeing 16,15, 14-year-old on here, and interacting with their blogs.

I am also a bit at a loss for how to curate my dash to regain that optimal meme/fandom/music equilibrium. Meme culture has changed a dizzying amount since 2018, and i know i have been left behind. With music and fandom cannibalising and engulfing each other (in that shiver-inducing mass of conciousness known as “mcr fandom”), i am left to try and find some “general” content. But from where??????

All of these things combined has made me feel like i might have to ditch tumblr soon. Either i put in massive amounts of energy, overhaul my dash and find out what i enjoy (while being concious of how to keep the parts of fandom that are truly enriching for me, when the mass hysteria inevitably starts again), or i log off, block, and try to keep my doomscrolling urges fed on fanfiction and youtube shorts.

With my unfortunate mental state, i sure know which seems easier

Now. Why am i still here at this very moment then?

It’s because of drafts! 

See, in my mind, it is possible to Finish Tumblr. During my years here, i have amassed a significant amount of drafts - gifsets, link masterlists, audio, video and photos, and each of them serves a purpose - to remind me to Consume that thing. The day i listen to the final album, final song, the day i watch the final tv show, movie, the day i let that final draft go; that’s when i can say i have Completed Tumblr, and can log off with a light heart. 

So, i haven’t acknowledged it, but i actually have a concrete goal in mind here, and as long as i work on that, i’ll be shackled to this blue hellsite

[masternest]

I feel like blogging again. Not like any of my friends read these even though I’ve told em about it. But hey, if you’re a friend of mine and you happen to read what I put, then thank you and let me know ^^ drop a hi as I’d truly like to know who’s invested in trying to get to know me

So back to the blog. This 2024 has started out sucky. Where the hell do I even begin. Worst part obviously is going back to the US. In the Philippines, it always seemed like I was treated like a prince but here in the US, I feel like a peasant. Especially with San Diego being the most expensive city to live now? Fuck my life. Thanks god for that. I can’t even be near my kids so just add on the taxes why don’t cha. I can’t even be near her or Matt. So a lot of the times, I’m just -_-

So what other horrible thing happened you say? Well I’m glad you asked random stranger. This is just me venting now to the void lol XD so after a long ass flight, I needed to figure out a way back to SD by bus. I had forgotten though that after the bus, I’d need to use a trolley. But after that, I needed to drag my luggage all the way up the huge hill. In hindsight though, it was a good workout for the arms. Exhausted, I come back to my apartment which is now locked by a fence gate which is usually unlocked but because my bud wasn’t sure that he locked the place, he called maintenance to make sure that it was indeed locked with a key that they never provided me. I shit you not when I tell you that I literally had to break in through my own place. I won’t say how I did it for security reasons lol but my supposed genius level intellect finally kicked in and with a bit of acrobatics, I got in

Next day, the chikas that live above had the place inspected since they were smelling gas for weeks? Weird they only did something now but glad that they did actually as there really was a problem. Kwang while I was away had mentioned that our gas bill seemed to more than double so this was now the true culprit. So to fix it, they shut off the gas. So no heat for a few days. Just great. Add on that my bud became mega sick from his NY trip. But at least we both don’t have Covid. Add on that the kids don’t respond back anymore to me through FB. The ex is back to her old ways it seems of blocking access to me even though I literally pay everything on time and pay in full mind you. I didn’t even do anything to anyone. This is bullshit

But I need to focus. This is an important year. She’s been working hard so I should too. Not that she’ll care too much but we’ll see. I’m so close to accomplishing my goals that have been years in the making. I’m proud of myself for getting Discord back on my phone again so yay. So many people I need to reconnect with but I promised myself I would. So yeah let’s do this. If you’re still reading, what the hell stop stalking and tell me who you are XD but if you’re interested, I’ll try to blog more about my progress on Game Development in the future apart from posting memes that I find funny. If I even remember to. Or maybe this will be my last word post for the year lmao we’ll see

[yoonia]

Hi! I hope you are doing well 💖 you are one my favourite writers on here and some of the first fics I have ever read were written by you. I am so grateful that you share them with us, truly.

Do you have tips or advice on what to do when feeling unmotivated to write. Or maybe things that have worked for you?

There are so many ideas and characters I’d love to write and share on here but I have no motivation and inspiration is hard to come by. I don’t have much interaction or engagement from readers or mutuals and it makes things 10x harder. Oddly enough though, I feel obligated to write and share fics and I feel really bad when I don’t or haven’t posted anything in a long time.

I’d love to cultivate a little community of my own. But it seems almost impossible and idk what I’m doing wrong. I know I shouldn’t let it affect me so much, but it’s something I get really upset over.

Hello! I'm sorry for replying so late. I've been offline due to my moving process and going through some health problems in between so I couldn't come back until now.

What a coincidence that you are sending me this message, as I have been getting trouble finding motivation to write as well.

I totally get what you meant about finding it harder to get motivated to write with the lack of interaction, because I feel it too and I'm sure there are a lot of writers who experience the same thing. It can be hard to overlook this thing since as fanfic writers who write and share these stories for free, interactions in the form of feedback, comments, reactions, or any kind of engagements from readers are the validation that we all need to push us to keep going forward. Without them, that "push" that we often need wouldn't be cultivated the way we need them to be. So it's perfectly normal to feel upset for not being able to find your audience, although oftentimes you just need some extra patience because different people can go through different phases and growth.

For me, personally, I often find my motivation by reconnecting with the passion and love I have for writing. I try to go back to my old works to remind myself why I started and try to figure out what I'm trying to focus on (eg. I'd usually question myself if I'm doing this simply because I enjoy the process of writing and sharing it, or if I just want to gain audience). As of now, I tend to motivate myself to write simply to finish what I've started. If I do get audience coming to read and send me feedbacks or any kind of engagement, then I would look at them as the reward I deserve for my hard work. Surprisingly, it's been working so far, if only to make me feel like I've accomplished something and to please readers who have been waiting for it. You might be able to find your own reason to push yourself forward, and sometimes it's okay to take a step back and find that core reason because people can have different meaning and purpose even in doing something that is similar to one another.

Building your own community takes work and a lot of patience. I'm not sure how much you've done or why you feel like you're doing something wrong, but the only thing I can say is that it's always better to be your true honest self. Try not to look at others and copy what other people are doing, if it's too much for you. Your audience are your own. Just like what I've mentioned above, different people can go through different phases of growth, and you might be able to invite different groups of audience compared to other writers that you've known so far. Some writers can build their community and gain audience within days, but others can take weeks, even months to go there, and that's really okay.

If trying to reach out to your audience through your writing hasn't worked as well as you wanted it to be, perhaps you can try a different approach. Try opening yourself more, share some personal stuff (without revealing too much of your personal life if you're not comfortable. for me, I just share about my cats lol), hold ask games when you have time to draw attention from your followers and gain more engagement with your mutuals, or, if you're not confident with it, try to do those tag games if your mutuals or people you're following are doing them and openly tag others to join the game, or perhaps open your request box if you're one of those writers who can work fast enough to get things out (unlike me lol). Allowing your audience to see who you are as a person can give you more attention, draw more engagement, and maybe allow you to enjoy being on your blog more when they do welcome you. Again, try to look at what has been working for you so far and what hasn't. It's okay to do some trials and errors. None of us here has ever done things or gained things instantly either, and we mostly grow by seeing what has worked for us to help build that community and to make us stay.

I'm not sure how much of this would help, but I do wish you can have more fun both in writing and in building your own audience to stay in the community. Good luck :)

[ssouledout]

well helllooooooooo, it’s been a MIN

it’s been a HOT min honestly. i haven’t been on here in years.. like actual years. i kinda skimmed through my old entries and i want to actually sit down and read each one. because what a time that was!!!! i realize that this blog represents pieces my faith journey 🤯 i don’t think i intended it to be that?? but i was so on fire for Jesus and it really showed. was just barely starting my faith journey and i knew i was in for a ride.. but girl lemme tell you. IT’S BEEN A RIDE LOL. and im just getting started. i want to catch up on what happened these past 2ish 3ish years. 

we’ll start with my love life lol. i’m still single 😇 halo emoji because i’m truly content here right now. and God gave me peace when I left Matt 2+ years ago. like immense peace. but as time went on I started entertaining thoughts that made me question everything that happened. as if I completely forgot what God brought me out of. i became way more social and active on ig and started getting attention from a hs crush.. ignored the holy spirit’s alarm bells and entertained that SMH (if all of my worldly friends told me to stay away, then you know it’s bad bad lol). but i lowkey wanted to check it off my bucket list. also.. with God anything is possible right? i proceeded with much caution and i made sure that didn’t get far. but my character was changing. not entirely because of this man, but just over all. literally saw myself sliding back into who i WAS.. idk where to begin. lemme just say that life away from God ain’t it. especially after he has delivered you from some things. remember that post when i said i gave up mary jane for good? God knew i wasn’t actually ready to give that up yet. after about 8 months of staying weed sober (that’s a long ass time, shows that God was really at work in my heart!!), i started smoking again and thought that if i did it with family members, it was “fine”. all this that i mention was the start of my spiritual and mental downfall. i pinpointed it when it was all happening but i continued living life this way (i dont even want to say it was the old me.. it was different. like I was more in tune with the holy spirit this time. and i was drinking often and partying, but living in my parents’ home. hardly drank ever in college. had wayyy more money than before. confidence was building from working out consistently) until i was unrecognizable to myself. girl i was so broken. but that’s what sin and disobedience does. i reconnected with a lot of people from my past and met new people along the way. reconnected with hs friends. my northridge friends. all the men from my past lollllll (didnt plan this, but it happened?) i even re-gained *feelings* for someone in my past past. but after hanging out with him, those feelings went away thank you Jesus. men make me CRINGE LOL. i see what the enemy was trying to do though. why did i reconnect with these people? idk. i was getting comfortable being more social and felt it was fine to reconnect? prob bc i was feeling more confident too. priorities were just out of line.. aka where was God in this?? far away 

speaking of confidence though.. my body composition is different. she got a booty now, a toned back, and thicker thighs. my weight fluctuates a lot but she’s been looking and ✨feeling✨ good. waist trainers WORK btw. but i stopped wearing them for a while now (not to sound annoying and cliche but diet and exercise is more effective). 

that job i was venting about in previous posts... i stayed for 2 years and some months. it was bad. broken, evil, money hungry company. picked up some bad drinking habits there. formed friendships around gossip and getting drunk 🤢 like who was i?! unrecognizable i tell ya. made me sad realizing that one of my best friends who was also my coworker played a huge role in this. had to distance myself from her all year and it’s been good for my well-being. and she respects the distance i think. things are just different now but im happy with it. after maxim, i got a different recruiting job. was feeling so happy and blessed about it untilllllll my manager... not getting into that rn. in short, he gave off entitled, predatory, bipolar, immature vibes. God used that tho to make me leave.. because ever since i left my job in aug, i’ve been ON FIRE for the Lord!!! taking me from faith to faith. i’m back n betta baby. God’s been trying to 👏  talk 👏  to 👏 me, and i can hear him better now that i’m putting distractions aside. i fasted for the first time in april. and God was quiet - he was like “😗 you already know what you need to work on”. it was sooooo hard for me to let go of my sinful lifestyle.. partying was fun and it was part of my identity. like fr. identity- that’s a whole topic for another time. anyway, i went back to partying after that fast 🙃 this was really recent btw. willingly doing drugs but feeling the conviction. like girl didn’t God bring you out of all of this? thank God for his faithfulness, i don’t deserve his grace!!! in this season God is basically showing WHO he created me to be and how those things i attached myself to don’t serve me, God, or anyone really. i had to lose myself completely to find it tho.. yet again. hurt more this time around. please God no more, i learned my lesson hahahah 😭 

i’m jobless rn. my full time job is spending time with Jesus and i love it here 😭 i ain’t no baby christian anymore. i can proudly say that i’m FINALLY not a lukewarm christian.. sheesh took long enough thank you GOD.

I bought a perfume to wear everyday in this season to remember it!!! valentino voce vita. Here’s a short summary of what God is doing:

- exposed the enemy’s tactics and patterns in my life

- establishing my identity in Him and solidifying it 

- teaching me how to use my authority in Him and how to fully rely/trust in Him

- confirmed that he will give me my man of God and a family (HE GAVE ME A VISION OF HIS FACE AHHHH. he’s got a pointy nose and straight teeth. nice smile)

- placed an urgency in my spirit that something big is happening. and it’s all pointing to Jesus’ return which is sooooooon EEEEEE!! LETS GOOOO

- revealed and confirmed my calling.............. scary fun times LOL. he’s going to USE MEEEEE, idk how that will look exactly. but i started a mukbang channel 3 weeks ago and its growing. (been having fun with my food ig page all year and growing there too! but pausing that for now.) i’m trusting and obeying and not looking back

- gave me an opportunity to be the community service leader for heavenly fire ministry!!! attended their retreat in the beginning of the year btw and met some amazing women who are HOT (humble, open, & transparent)

i know i’m on the right track with the Lord YAY <3 been having sooo many intimate moments with the Lord and i’m excited to keep on experiencing his goodness. spiritual attacks are on a new level - the enemy’s old patterns aren’t working and he’s sending his stronger minions. but i’m covered and i KNOW where i stand. i know where God stands. and i know where the enemy stands. the truth has been revealed and i’m unstoppable on God’s team 🤩 

reminder: Galatians 6:9 (NLT) ‘So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up.’

anywayyyyy i hope to keep posting updates on here. now that i figured out my login info. i really hope and pray for more christ-like friendships. audrey is literally God-sent i love her sooooo much ugh. nikka and i are still friends and we stay encouraging each other!! so something good came out of maxim lol. also grateful for keelee, i hope we can hang more! 

that was a lot. bye for nowwwww ✌️ 

[trainwreckzadr]

Four Years Later

So, I was deep-cleaning my room the other day for the first time in like two years (god, the dust was disgusting), and I found an old sketchbook of mine. Like, OLD old. The earliest drawing was labeled March 23, 2009--I was 11. 

Most of what was in there was TERRIBLE anime art; you know the stuff. Scoopy noses, eyes that float around on the face, characters conveniently holding their arms behind their backs so you don’t have to draw their hands. Edgy character deaths and thinly-veiled self-inserts comin’ atcha full force. But I’m flipping through this thing, and I’m finding that for the first time in forever, I... don’t hate myself for it? I’m actually finding it cute! Like, “Aww, she’s learning.” Mind-boggling feeling.

So I figured, for old times’ sake, what the heck, let’s go reread Trainwreck too. So I googled the name of the blog (because I’m the kind of person who googles URLs instead of just typing them into the damn URL bar), and I happened across THIS comic dub, by Nessa G.:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=55skXrjaY-Y&ab_channel=NessaG.

I fucking died.

Seriously, I hope it’s not narcissistic, but I forgot most of the jokes, and everything I drew here was so 100% my own sense of humor that I CRACKED. THE FUCK. UP. (”Fan... squirrels?”) God, I haven’t laughed that hard (or that sincerely) in a long time. And hearing the words I wrote read out loud by another human being was so weird! In a good way, obviously. Thank you for the dub, Nessa. It brought me so much joy. And it’s that video that’s inspiring me to come back to this blog and at least explain what’s going on.

So... Imma be straight with you. (Prepare to be hurled headfirst into a steaming hot pile of TMI.)

When I said I was “busy”, I was flat-out lying. 

I was in a bad place, I had been for a while, and I just... couldn’t draw anymore. Like... at all. God, it was terrifying, it just snuck up on me out of nowhere. I think I worked on maybe three or four projects between 2018-2019, all to help out a family member, and then I just... stopped. Drawing became terrifying, talking to people became terrifying(er)... I basically gave up on art altogether, ghosted everyone I knew, and spent the last four years cooped up studying alone, barely eating or sleeping, scared of anything with a shadow... ACK, it was bad. I looked like a fucking skeleton by the end of it.

Now, I’m not telling you this because I want comfort or sympathy. I’ve actually been doing a lot better over the last six months. If I weren’t, I’d never post something like this--I don’t tell ANYONE my genuine feelings unless I’m already over it. Which is... ~Probably Not Healthy!~ hAhaHAhA *finger guns*

But seriously though. I’ve been reconnecting with the people I love, I’ve been eating more and putting on some weight, I got a long-term freelance position with a translation agency, and I had a breakthrough recently that took away a ton of fear... things are going okay. Importantly, I’m also starting to be more mindful of my own behavioral patterns. I’ve been trying to figure out which habits keep getting me into trouble, and work towards changing them.

One of those bad habits is MAKING PROMISES. 

I have this tendency to promise the moon to people because I’m scared of disappointing or angering them (and because I constantly underestimate how long things will take me). Then I wind up skipping meals and sleep so I can get everything done, getting further and further past my deadlines, stressing and stressing until, before I know it--SKRRCH!--my entire brain comes to a screeching halt, and I shut down.

Obviously, this is bad for me, because I’m putting a ridiculous amount of strain on my own body and mind. Obviously, it’s also bad for other people, because I’m promising them all this stuff and then ditching them out of nowhere. This is just all-around bad, and it’s gotta stop. Sure, there’s this whole sad backstory as to why I do this, but that doesn’t make it okay to continue the behavior.

SO! What I’m getting at here is! When it comes to picking Trainwreck ZADR back up:

I make zero promises.

Drawing a fan comic--ANY comic--is a lot of work. Towards the end, it was taking me like 6-8 hours for just one page. I think I have finally gotten to a place where I want to start drawing again, but... I’m broke as all flying hell. I don’t have an ATA certification or any experience in translation, so I’m working... the kind of job you can get with no credentials or experience. (Bruh, this shit makes less than minimum wage.)

So, jaded though it sounds, if I’m going to be investing that much time and effort into anything other than my translation career, it HAS to be something I’m being paid for, because anxiety or no anxiety if I am not out of my parents’ house by the age of 25 I am going to jump off a fucking bridge. Into a lifeboat. Which I will then sail to the Arctic tundra to live out the rest of my days in obscurity, sucking frozen algae out of a straw for sustenance.

BUT, on the other hand... god, there were so many jokes and gags in Trainwreck that I never got to see to fruition. Watching Nessa’s video made me remember that.

Zim was going to kidnap a goat while wearing a very silly hat. Zita was going to be possessed by a demon, and then “zITARATH” was just gonna BE THERE for the rest of the comic, in the background, nobody addressing it. “Nice dress, Zita!” “tHANK YoU. IT WaS SEWN from tHE SKIN OF MY ENeMiES.” “*gasp* It’s homemade??”

Oh my god, and there was a second song!! I wrote a whole song to the tune of Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious where the Tallest find out about The Zadr(TM) and use it as an excuse to fire Zim! I don’t remember most of the lyrics, they were on my old laptop, but I know it started with “You’re~ in~ an~ interspecies, highly inappropriate relationship!♫♪♪ “

God, that would be fun to draw.

So... possible compromise. No clue how many people are still hanging around, but just a shot in the dark: Would anyone be willing to commission me to finish this comic? I have no clue what my rates would be, cuz I, uh... *ahem* I really haven’t thought that far ahead. I’d have to google copyright laws too, but I... think it’s allowed...??

Alternatively, I could set up a Patreon, and post X number of pages X often depending on how much the monthly income is.

Last option, if there are only like three people still here and you’re all just as broke as I am, I could at least rummage through my old sketchbooks, post whatever snippets I can find, and just tell you where the plot was gonna go. It’s the least I can do after ditching you guys for so long.

So... yup.

Please let me know what your thoughts are about where this comic should go. I’m gonna go finish an assignment, eat something, and possibly fall asleep. I’ll check back with this later to see if there’s any response.

By the way... I’m genuinely sorry for ditching you guys without saying anything. Seriously.

[volturiwolf]

Soulmates - A Demetri Volturi x Reader Imagine

A/N: This is the first imagine I finished and uploaded, and it came quite unexpectedly while talking with @volturidoll13 who suggested a Demetri Volturi one-shot where the reader would follow Bella and Alice to Italy and would accidentally say “wish he’d choke ME” out loud (see my post for reference). So, here it is. Also, I’m sorry if something doesn’t make sense. English is not my first langage. Enjoy :)

No of Words: 5749

Mentions of: Swear Language, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Dying/Death, Killings, Self-doubt, Self-consciousness, Kinky Choking, Sexual Arousal

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

I think I had enough of Bella. No, I know I've had enough of her. She may be my best friend, the one who truly understood me the moment I stepped foot in Forks High School, beginning of last year, but this was just too much.

I have spent countless hours trying to support her when Edward Cullen left her, 5 months ago. I was there to be her emotional support, and even spent time with Jacob Black, an old friend of Bella's, who stayed at the Quileute reservation.

Jacob seemed kind of polite, although his attempts to flirt with Bella whenever he could were cringy, to say the least. But I supported her then too, trying to be sort of the third wheel / the one who tried to show Jacob she wasn't really interested in him that way.

His friends, Embry and Quil, were as nice and polite as they were beautiful. When Embry abandoned Jacob and Quil, Bella and I were there to support him. When Jacob abandoned Bella, I was there to support her. 

Even when Bella was sad, angry and desperate to know what happened to Jacob, I was there to calm her down. I was there when she went to see him and he turned her away. I was there when she slapped Paul in the face. I was there when he turned into a huge wolf, and I couldn't help but scream.

Jacob explained everything about the wolves to both Bella and I. He told us how it's part of their DNA; how they are meant to protect the tribe from dangerous outsiders; how the metamorphosis from human to wolf can be somehow controlled over time, with practice and persistence. THAT I could understand.

What I couldn't understand was how vampires existed in this world! It wasn't Bella the one to reveal that secret to me, rather Alice, Edward's sister. Apparently, she saw Bella dying, the day she supposedly went cliff-diving, which I told her not to, having a severe fear of heights myself.

Bella took the risk, and if it weren't for Jacob, she would most likely be dead by now. That's what Alice said she "saw" - she explained to my incapable self that, as a vampire, she had a gift, the gift of predicting the future, based on others' decisions. 

All this information was overwhelming me. I could swallow the harsh reality of wolves existing, but vampires, too? It seemed too much for me in such a short period of time.

Alice quickly explained some basics to me, like the fact that the Cullens were vegetarians, but the majority of their kind fed on human blood, as well as the fact that they even had a sort-of-government of vampires, residing in Italy, the Volturi.

She then turned to Bella to scold her about her recklessness and how she was prone to "life-threatening idiocy". I couldn't agree more with the short brunette right now. Bella has been nothing but reckless the last few weeks, and she was putting her life in danger for no reason.

They were talking about Edward or whatever, but I wasn't paying any particular attention until Jacob showed up. I decided to give them some space to talk, and Alice followed behind me, stepping out of the house.

Her face was a mix of disgust and worry, not paying any particular attention to me, probably trying to hear Bella and Jacob's conversation from the kitchen. After a minute or two, I heard her taking a sharp breath, her eyes fixating on nothing in particular; they were just staring ahead of her.

She took a sharp breath, as she regained consciousness, stepping quickly into the house. She walked in quite wide and quick strides, considering her miniature figure, and, though taller than her, I had some trouble following behind her.

She ran directly to the kitchen. "Bella. Bella, it's Edward. He thinks you're dead. Rosalie told him why I came here."

They both looked at Jacob; Bella practically screaming to his face, accusing him of not giving her the telephone to speak with Edward herself.

"Bella, he's going to the Volturi. He wants to die, too." The small brunette continued.

Within a minute, Bella made her decision: she was going to Italy to save her ex-lover. She promised us that she would just make sure he lived, and then, she would go back to her "boring" life.

Alice ran outside, starting her car immediately, as Bella was followed closely by Jacob, who tried to convince her not to go, pleading with her, all in vain. Bella was as stubborn as she could get, and nobody could change her mind. 

I turned to Jacob, without really thinking about my next words. "Don't worry. I'll go with her. I'll make sure she's back safe, okay?"

All Jacob could do is nod at me, though his face was full of concern, frustration, and he was clearly distraught by Bella's decision to leave him and save Edward. As if all this time she, Jacob and, sometimes, I spent time together meant nothing to her.

I jumped in the back seat of the car, not waiting for either Bella's, or Alice's approval. I knew it would be a huge risk for me to go to the vampires' lair, but I also knew that Bella could use all the emotional support she could get. 

As much as I hated Edward for what he did and said to her, I knew that he was everything to her, like her own little haven. Her own little oasis, which I guess felt more like a tundra, compared to Jacob's flaming hot desert. I rolled my eyes at my embarrassing thoughts, but I assumed that's how she thought of them.

The drive to the airport felt like a ton of weight crushing my shoulders. I had no place to follow them to Italy, as it was truly none of my business. But I promised Jacob, and though Bella could make me so frustrated with her lack of self-confidence and self-respect, I liked her company a lot, and I needed to make sure she was alive and safe.

In the couple of months that she came out of her apathetic state, we reconnected again, reminiscing about our unorthodox friendship, both of us being new to the town, shy and not particularly sociable.

However, Bella was the ideal friend to keep you grounded and connected with reality, which I, sometimes, had trouble with; my mind was running wild and free most of the time, while my mouth was staying shut. 

So, I was willing to go across the ocean for her, to an unknown place, in a castle full of bloodsucking vampires. I wasn't pleased, but I was willing. Willing to help her save her stupid ex-boyfriend, and hopefully not get killed in the process.

During the flights, Alice tried, more or less, to explain the dynamics of the vampire world; the Volturi, being this sort of government-slash-royalty of the vampire kind, were tasked with imposing their laws over the other vampires. Their most important law? Don't expose your existence to humans, unless you want to die. Well, there goes that! 

Alice had already talked to me about their kind; Bella knew through her association with both Edward and the rest of the Cullen family. The chances of any of us making out of there alive seemed slim to none. I was literally flying towards my death. Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool. 

I was trying to calm down my nerves, which did not work at all, when all I could think about were those Italian vampires. Alice told me that the vampire Kings, especially Aro, who seemed to be their leader, were interested in collecting talented vampires. 

So, it was pretty obvious that he would, most likely, get rid of Bella and myself, and would gladly keep Alice and Edward, who, as Alice told me, has the gift of reading people’s minds. So, we were actually doing that Aro guy a favor there; bring him the “talents” and get rid of the “intruders”, the humans. Great. Just, great.

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

We were currently on our way to Volterra. Alice had stolen a yellow Porsche from the airport’s parking lot, which neither Bella, nor I opposed to, for now. It was a fast way to get to Volterra, plus I’ve never actually been in a Porsche, and I felt pretty amazing. Alice seemed like a skillful driver, and drove pretty fast, which I liked, especially if I was the one driving. Bella and Alice’s conversation interrupted my thoughts.

“What? What do you see?”

“They refused him.” That was good, right?

“So..?” Bella knew there was something else behind Alice’s vision.

“He’s gonna make a scene. Show himself to the humans.” Why the hell, Edward?!

“No! When?”

“He’s gonna wait until noon, when the sun’s at its highest.” Bella seemed more and more worried and anxious, and I heard her heavy breath, which seemed like she was starting to go on panic mode. I stroked her shoulders lightly, trying to calm her down. As much as she deserved to get worried, given the events that led us here, this was not the time to panic.

“There’s Volterra.” Alice pointed to her left, at a beautiful, picturesque town that looked as if it had jumped out of the Renaissance era. The scenery of Tuscany was beautiful, and it had always been part of my bucket list to travel across Tuscany in a small rental car. That was not how I pictured that trip, or how I pictured my last day on Earth.

Alice was running through the city’s narrow streets by now, never stopping to honk at people passing by, who moved left and right, trying to avoid the “crazy driver who decided it was a good idea to drive a sports car through such a city’s small, narrow, occupied streets”; at least, that’s how I saw it.

Alice did not back down, and continued driving skillfully through the city’s small arteries. It was odd though, the fact that everyone around us was wearing red capes, red clothes, everything was red. Bella questioned it out loud and Alice informed us that today was the celebration of Saint Marcus’ Day, the day that the Saint expelled all vampires from the town. The irony.

Bella was experiencing a full on panic attack, as we were only 5 minutes away from Edward’s shenanigans. Theoretically, everything was in order, until the moment we were stopped by the local police who refused to let us go any farther. Bella opened her door. She would go on foot, to find Edward before he exposed himself. Alice would park the car somewhere outside of the town’s walls, and we’d then go and find them.

I turned around my seat, to watch Bella running through the streets, to the plaza where the clock tower, which Edward was going to expose himself from, was located. Alice left the car outside of the walls, but still, close enough to have easy access. 

For me, it was quite easy to walk around now, as my skin was not sparkling like Alice’s was. Alice had to wrap herself around a coat, a long, thick scarf and gloves, and wear sunglasses to protect her identity even more. I was walking in the middle of the streets, watching around carefully, as good as my human eyes could see, trying to help Alice go unnoticed, as she pushed herself more towards the buildings’ walls, trying to avoid the sunlight. 

That went on for a while, until we were close enough to the clock tower, where Alice took my hand on hers and, with long strides, walked towards the main entrance, which was, thankfully, shaded enough for her to walk through. 

She must have heard the conversation inside the building, as the moment we stepped in - Alice breaking the lock that kept the door momentarily closed, she started talking to the others, who I mistook as being Bella and Edward. As another sign of my unluckiness in life, she was actually addressing two other vampires, a tall brunette and a shorter blond.

They both looked gorgeous, but they could probably kill me as easily as it was for me to blink. I instantly became stiff, and Alice must have felt it, but she kept on holding my hand, trying to play it cool in front of the others, while trying to get rid of her disguise with her free hand at the same time.

“Come on, guys. It’s a festival. You wouldn’t want to make a scene.” She tried to play it nice and cool, though I knew she was just as worried being here as the rest of us.

“We wouldn’t.” The brunette vampire responded, now looking at me, who, by now, I have lost all my confidence in coming to Italy to help Bella.

I caught the blond vampire looking me up and down my body, and felt rather self-conscious. I didn’t have the best relationship with my own body and my own self; I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror, most of the time. So, I made up for what I lacked in self-confidence with sarcasm, bad humor, honesty and snarky remarks. I would be really going off of him right now, if I wasn’t shaking.

Though beautiful, the blond vampire also scared me, just as much as his brunette partner. I stared back at him, looking at his confident stance, one hand behind his back, and a smirk across his face. 

When my (Y/E/C) eyes met with his red ones, I started shivering even more, holding on Alice tighter than before. I felt my heart beating faster, my breath became both sharper and deeper, and I felt as if I would cry, right then and there, in front of everyone. I saw the blond becoming a bit stiff, his jaw clenching, swallowing deeply, but he still wouldn’t take his eyes off of me.

Alice and Edward exchanged some looks, as if they knew what was happening, but chose to not tell anyone else. The scene in front of me was interrupted by the clicks of heeled shoes, and a blonde girl came into our view. 

“Enough.” Her voice was stern, and her stance was stoic as she came closer to us.

“Jane.” Edward recognised her and lowered his head towards the ground. He didn’t seem scared before, when it was just the two vampires in front of us, but the small woman now seemed to have him terrified.

“Aro sent me to see what was taking so long.” She looked between the two vampires of her coven, as if she was criticizing them for their incompetence to bring us all before Aro. Then, she turned to us, looking us straight in our eyes, or rather our souls, probably to warn and scare us at the same time, before walking back to where she came from. 

Alice turned towards Bella and I, the only humans there, who clearly looked more terrified than she and Edward did. “Just do as she says.” She simply said and we followed behind the girl, with the other two vampires closely behind us. 

The blond one was so close to me, I could feel the coldness radiating off his body, making me shiver. The brunette gave Edward the red robe I didn’t notice he was holding before, probably to cover himself in front of the Kings. The blonde girl moved between Bella and Edward, and Alice and I. Edward was trying to comfort Bella but I couldn’t exactly make out what they were saying, my mind making all shorts of scenarios about how the vampires would kill me and the others. The more I thought about it, the more I was shriveling on Alice’s side. 

We reached an elevator - I never thought vampires used elevators, but maybe it was for the humans around? The brunette and the blond entered first, as the blond turned around to stare at us, turning his gaze at me afterwards, before fully stepping in. Then, it was time for Edward and Bella to get in, followed by Alice and I. The blonde girl stepped in last, before the elevator’s doors closed shut.

The elevator music, an operetta, was supposed to calm peoples’ nerves. Yet, in this tight box, it had the opposite effect. Surrounded by vampires, vegetarian and non, the music was just creeping me out. 

The fact that the blond vampire was merely two inches away from me was making my knees weak and my heart pounding, though I, myself, didn’t even know if my own body was reacting out of fear or attraction towards the blond vampire. I felt him leaning closer to me and barely heard him sniff around, but I clearly saw Alice turning her head around and giving him death stares, to which he retrieved back to his original position.

The elevator stopped and we all stepped out. We walked past a receptionist’s desk, the woman standing up, smiling and wishing us a good afternoon - based on the few Italian that I knew. From what Bella and Edward said, the receptionist was a human, wishing to become a vampire, like the others.

“And so she will be.” Demetri smirked, looking at me, who I still haven't abandoned Alice’s hand.

“Or dessert.” Jane interrupted, and I felt myself losing consciousness for a split second, before I felt the blond vampire grabbing my arm to stabilize me. His hand was cold and his grip tight on me, not leaving me even after I looked at him with wide eyes. He just smiled and continued walking ahead.

Jane opened the doors in front of her, leading us to a massive room, made out of marble, and decorated with Roman columns and scriptures on the walls. Surprisingly, it was well-lit and bright, compared to the dark halls that we passed through just a minute ago.

“Sister. Send you out to get one and you bring back two. And two halves. Such a clever girl.” A brunette boy, a bit taller than Jane, called towards her, as she walked by his side.

The blond vampire let me go and walk farther into the room, still holding Alice’s hand like I was holding on her for dear life. The blond vampire now stood a few feet behind us, next to the tall brunette one.

A black-haired vampire, who seemed a bit too excited, started walking towards us. “What a happy surprise! Bella is alive after all. Isn’t that wonderful. I love a happy ending. They are so rare.” He was talking with fake happiness in his face, as if he was reading from a script, grabbing Edward’s hand in the process.

“La tua cantante.” Your singer. The vampire seemed to know how much Edward craved Bella’s blood, and questioned how Edward could do so easily. 

“Aro can read every thought I’ve ever had with one touch.” Well, that explained a lot. And now I placed who Aro was within the Volturi.

I now learned more about Edward’s gift, which was more similar to Aro’s than anyone else’s, but he couldn’t actually read Bella’s thoughts. Aro requested if he could test his own gift on Bella, probably hoping that he could read her thoughts and brag about it. But when Bella offered her hand, which he took too willingly, his face was unreadable and then, disappointed and angry, not being able to read her either.

Then, he turned towards me, still by Alice’s side. His red eyes were cold and hostile, and his face uninviting. I felt small and vulnerable, exposed, in front of his critical gaze.

“Dear (Y/N), excuse me for the waiting. Edward has presented me a very..intriguing image of you. Could you offer me your hand? I would like to get to know you, as well.”

My lips were trembling, not being able to say a word, and my eyes were glistening. Please, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry. I knew that whatever Edward had shown him I couldn’t avoid. So, I took a step forward, leaving Alice’s hand and extending the other one towards Aro. I felt a breeze behind me, as Demetri came to stand on my right side, looking closely between Aro and I.

The mind reader took my hand between his hands, and I felt my thoughts being examined and tossed around my head, like a small whisper trying to cast a spell on me. The vampire looked at me, deep in the eyes, and his face was filled with fascination for whatever he saw inside my head.

“Fascinating, indeed, dear. Your mind is just filled with thoughts and images, though they are not very distinct. You are not an easy book to read. I still haven’t figured out who you really are. Although…”. He looked at the vampire standing beside me, motioning for him to give him his hand.

The blond obeyed his master. Did he have any other choice? Probably not. Aro took the blond’s hand, and his wicked, sick smile came back.

“Oh, this suddenly became even better than I would have expected.” He turned towards the vampire sitting on the throne, looking sad. Marcus? The vampire in question nodded, and Aro turned around in an almost theatrical move, with open arms, for everyone to see. 

“It seems that our dear Demetri has finally found his mate in (Y/N). I’m so happy for the two of you!” His face was smiling, but his voice sounded as fake as ever. 

I didn’t know what “mates” meant. Alice didn’t have enough time to explain every “vampire term” to me, so I was clueless regarding this part. The blond, who I now knew as Demetri, must have seen the confusion in my face, as he leaned slightly towards me and whispered “Soulmates” in my ear. My eyes widened and he giggled lightly.

Whether it was how close he came near me, or his giggle, or the fact that we were “soulmates”, my heart responded immediately, thumbing faster in my chest, and I felt my cheeks burn - I was clearly blushing in front of everyone, as if I couldn’t be any more awkward than I was before.

Aro interrupted my embarrassment, as he turned once again towards Bella, wanting to test if she was immune to the others’ gifts as well. He turned towards the blonde girl, Jane, asking her basically to show off her own gift. Edward ran forward to stop whatever it was going to happen, only to end up in pain, writhing in an inaudible pain, as Bella was practically screaming to stop.

I honestly didn’t mind Edward suffering, even if it was for a few seconds, considering that Bella had it worse for over 5 months. He finally dropped to the floor, as Alice ran to his side, and the blonde girl’s brother ran to grab Bella, to stop her from going by her lover’s side.

I had no idea what was happening. I was just looking around, shocked and scared, as all these unfamiliar things were taking place in front of my untrained eyes. I felt a hand stroking my arm up and down. I turned around to see Demetri smiling slightly at me, trying to calm me down. I sighed a bit and felt my heart slightly at ease.

That was until the Kings decided that Bella was a liability - I wasn’t? - and Aro called out for Felix. I turned around and saw the tall brunette smiling evilly, while the shorter brunette turned Bella around and left her there, exposed, in front of the giant. Edward seemed to know what it would be happening, as he immediately stood up and ran by Bella’s side to protect her.

He immediately ran forward, attacking the tall brunette, and knocking him down. Alice ran towards Edward to help him out, but she was immediately stopped by Demetri, who I didn’t notice had left my side, grabbing her by her neck and immobilizing her, dragging her away from ever reaching her brother. 

“Alec!” Demetri shouted towards the brunette boy, who had just left Bella at Felix’s mercy, pointing towards me with his eyes. The boy, Alec, came by my side, and practically dragged me farther from the scene that took place in front of me. His grip was a bit too much as he squeezed my arm, making me slightly cry in pain. Demetri growled at him, and Alec’s grip loosened significantly, but he still kept his hand on my arm.

Felix was pissed by now, as he immediately started fighting Edward, pushing and slamming him around the room. However, I couldn’t focus my gaze on them; not because they were fast, but because I was focused on watching Demetri, and how he was still holding on Alice’s neck tightly, never letting her go.

Watching Demetri’s hand around Alice’s neck should have made me feel appalled and sorry for the small brunette girl, but it didn’t. On the contrary, I felt rather aroused, watching his strong hand wrapped around the brunette’s neck. 

Honestly, I felt a wave of jealousy and annoyance hitting me. That should have been me! Only I was worthy to be touched by this sort of demon who masked his true identity with the facade of an angel. It should be me! I couldn’t help myself, my jealousy building up inside me. 

“Wish he’d choke ME!” I told myself, getting more frustrated by the minute.

“Patience, cara mia. All in due time.” Demetri smirked at me. I did not realise I said that out loud, until Alec started snorting beside me, clearly laughing cheekily, and Felix started bursting in laughter, his grip tight on Edward’s jaw by now.

I had embarrassed myself in a room full of vampires once again, the majority of them being part of the Volturi coven. If the Earth opened in half and swallowed me, I would pretty much welcome it at that point.

Bella brought me back to reality, as she was practically screaming, begging the vampires to let go of Edward, as she looked clearly distraught and upset. She even offered herself instead of Edward! Why, Bella? Just why? I have understood by now that they were mates and they’d do anything for each other, but she would sacrifice her own life for Edward?! That didn’t make sense to me.

Aro seemed to agree with me, but he thought more of the “soulless monster” perspective, while I thought more of Edward’s character, and how much his absence had scarred Bella. Alice told me, on our way here, that he thought he was doing everything to keep her away just to protect her, that being close to him put her in danger. But, from my own experience with Bella, she was suffering more away from him than he thought she would.

Aro looked disappointed between Edward and Bella, wishing he would give her immortality, which he did not seem willing to do. Aro moved menacingly towards the terrified girl, prepared to end her life. I fell forwards, attempting to reach her, to move in between them, but Alec’s grip tightened, keeping me back, both of his hands on my arms now. Aro was basically licking his lips, when, suddenly, Alice stopped him. 

The small brunette confirmed that Bella would become a vampire like them, and that she would even be the one to change her, as she saw in her vision. Aro called her forward, and Demetri let her walk towards his Master. 

He then moved towards Alec and I, replacing the brunette boy, but, instead of grabbing my arms like Alec did, he embraced me tightly, not letting me move away from my position. His cold embrace sent shivers down my spine, but, surprisingly, I let myself relax in his arms, feeling safe, and like that was where I belonged. I felt him smiling and relaxing, as well.

Aro seemed pleased with whatever Alice had shown him, and intrigued by her own gift of predicting the future. Alice had told me that her gift was subjected to the decisions people made, and the future could just change at any point. However, if Aro believed that her vision would eventually come true, we had no reason to tell him otherwise. 

Aro turned to Bella. “Your gifts will make for an intriguing immortal.” He whispered as he touched her face, Bella clearly feeling uncomfortable under his touch. I would, too - Aro seemed creepy in his own way, his behavior and movements just as unpredictable.

He then told us to leave, and prepare for Bella’s transformation, and Felix let go of Edward. Marcus told everyone that a woman named Heidi would be coming soon and thanked us “for the visit”, as Aro said his goodbyes. Demetri walked towards the exit, me still in his arms. Edward grabbed Bella by her hand and Alice followed them behind.

As we were walking through the corridor, a beautiful woman walked past us, many people - they looked like tourists - following behind her. She had long, wavy brown hair and purple eyes, which could only mean that she was most likely wearing blue contacts over her red eyes. Her aura was full of confidence and power; she knew what she was doing and she took her job seriously.

“Nice fishing, Heidi.” I heard Demetri addressing the woman from behind me. So, that was the Heidi Marcus was referring to. Wait.. Nice..what?

“Yes, they do look rather juicy.” The beautiful woman replied, eyeing between Bella and I, as she continued leading the tourists down the hallway.

Demetri must have seen her reaction, as he brought me closer to him. I was in shock, and started trembling more than before. These people, these poor people would be the vampires’ snacks in a few seconds. Like Bella and I could have been just minutes ago. I tried to not think about it, but the screams that echoed through the hall would probably haunt me for the rest of my life.

Demetri opened another door as we approached the end of the corridor, and we found ourselves back in the reception area. The Italian woman greeted us once again, but I didn’t listen to what she said, still in shock, just waiting to leave this horrible place as soon as I could.

“Just wait here. You will be able to leave in a few hours, when it’s dark outside.” Demetri instructed Edward and Alice, and took his arms away from my body, turning to look at me. “Wait here, cara mia. I’ll be back soon.” I nodded, not being able to say a word.

Demetri turned and ran towards the throne room. I knew he left to feed, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of him killing innocent humans. I couldn’t keep myself from crying, as I started trembling and losing balance. 

Alice came by my side, trying to stabilize and calm me down, while Edward tried calming down a hyperventilating Bella. We were both losing our sanity, not being able to keep up with the Volturi’s lifestyle, as it seemed. I was craving Demetri’s touch but, at the same time, I couldn’t stop the human in me, the logic, the sense that said that I should stay away from the vampires who killed people. 

I heard Alice and Edward talking with the receptionist, but I couldn’t make out exactly what they were talking about. Alice, slowly and carefully, with her hands still on my arms, led me to a nearby bench, as the receptionist walked away. I was rocking back and forth, trying to calm down, realizing that we are still alive. I saw the receptionist coming towards us, offering a glass of water to both Bella and I.

“Grazie mille.” I thanked her, my voice barely audible.

“Prego.” She smiled at me, and walked back towards her desk.

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

I didn’t realise how much time passed, until I heard footsteps coming towards us. I was way more calm by now. Lifting my head towards the direction of the footsteps, I saw Demetri and Felix. I shyly smiled at Demetri, and he smiled back, with a smile wider than mine, a smile that warmed my heart.

“Hello, again, amore mio.” I felt as if my heart stopped for a split second upon hearing the words he used to address me. I would still be weak to my knees, if I didn't already sit down.

Felix was the one to inform us that we were allowed to go now, being way past nighttime. I stood up, and attempted to walk forward, towards Bella and the two Cullen siblings. I intended to leave with them, but I was stopped by Demetri’s hand on my wrist.

“Where are you going, cara?” He looked at me, knowing why I was attempting to walk away.

“I.. I thought we’d.. be leaving? That I’d be leaving? With the others?” At least, I was hoping I would be leaving with them. 

“I’m sorry, amore. I can’t let you go, not now that I found you. You’ll be staying here, with me.” Demetri sounded so natural and serious, and I could only stare at him, my mouth agape.

“But.. I thought it was okay for me to leave. I have a life behind, you know. I have a school to finish, I have my family, I have things to do.” I still looked at him dumbfounded, waiting for him to allow me to go, just for now, just for a few months at least.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). But I cannot risk anything happening to you. I will make sure you are safe and protected here. We will arrange everything with your school and your family, and whatever else is needed. Please, stay.” Demetri’s eyes were pleading, and a shiver passed through my body, just by looking at him and hearing him talk.

It took me a few minutes to respond; nobody said a word all this time. “Okay.” I said faintly. “I will stay.. here.. with you.”

Demetri’s face lit up, and he leaned closer to me, wrapping his arms around me. He was careful to not hurt me, and I knew, at the moment, with my heart full of love and affection for that man, that that was where I was supposed to be. With Demetri. For as long as it lasted.  

[jackie-shitposts]

I Thought Thieves Love Jules!

Carmen strolled out of the elevator, feeling pretty beat after her workout with Shadowsan. Not that she would ever admit that- she had wanted to keep going, but it had only been two days since she got electrocuted in Egypt, so Shadowsan made her cut her workout short while he continued. Carmen sauntered over to the counter, taking a long drink from her water bottle, just as Player’s image appeared on her laptop screen. “Check it out, Red. Julia just posted a new entry on her blog, about a recent find in Columbia.” Player said, ”But it totally digresses into fun facts about fair trade coffee, including a “Red Blend.” Carmen leaned onto the counter. “Could be another riddle to solve?” “Good thing I learned a thing or two about code-breaking from Julia.” Player smirked, clearly excited to show off his new skills. “Every paragraph ends with a number. If you line ‘em up like they're a date and time, it’s tomorrow at 8am.” “Seems Chief wants an opportunity to thank me over coffee.” Carmen quirked an eyebrow. Seems as though she’d be seeing her favorite agent-turned-historian-turned-agent-again in the field, per Chief’s request. “How can you be sure it’s not a trap?” Player asked apprehensively. “If it were, Jules would’ve worded it differently.”

“OoOoO, are we talking about Jules?” Zack asked, peeking his head out from the doorway.

“That ACME gal Carm has a crush on?” Ivy chimed in, peeking her own head out from under her brother.

Carmen rolled her eyes at the sibling’s cartoonish antics. “Jules and I are just friends, you two.”

Ivy scoffed, entering the room and flopping onto the couch.  “Yeah right- then why did you specifically go to her when you needed help decoding the relics?”

Carmen casually took a sip of her water before answering.  “Jules was already familiar with VILE- getting a stranger involved would’ve only made things more complicated and dangerous than it already was.” Zack hopped onto the couch opposite of Ivy, resting his feet up on her knees. He pointedly ignored Ivy’s protests of, “Zack, gross!” and smirked at Carmen. “Oh? Then why did you ask Devineaux where she was in Louisiana?” “Hey, you never told me about that one!” Ivy gasped, feigning betrayal. “I was just surprised ACME let that driving disaster use a car,” Carmen quipped. Player laughed on his side of the screen. “Don’t act like you’re any better, Red. Don’t you remember your first caper?”

Carmen gasped, pretending to be insulted. “Says the 17 year old without a learners permit.”

“Not like I have anywhere to go.” Player laughed, before refocusing on Carmen’s interrogation. “Speaking of firsts, how about when you first met Julia? I listened in, and it totally sounded like you were flirting with her. You called her “Jules” on your first meeting!” Carmen narrowed her eyes at Player in defiance.  “I was just sitting across from Jules so I could blend in while keeping an eye on Paper Star. And what’s wrong with nicknames? I called Crackle “Gray” and Ivy “Ives”. I don’t see what the difference is.” “The difference is that you and Cracker used to be best friends, and now we are best friends. However, you and Jules were not friends at the time.” Ivy said, emphasizing the nickname. “His name is Crackle now.” “He went and rejoined VILE, I think I get to call Gary whatever I want.” Player chimed back into the conversation. “Why did you leave the Magna Cartas with Julia, anyway? You had one conversation with her, what made you think leaving them with her meant they were in “good hands?” “While sitting next to her, I noticed Devineaux’s briefcase, and she said they were travel partners on business. I figured that meant they were law enforcement also trying to recover the documents. Leaving them with Jules simply saved me the hassle of returning the documents myself.” Carmen explained casually. “What about the fashion show in Milan, Carm? Why’d you have Julia help us then?” Zack asked, a shit-eating grin plastered onto his face. Carmen sighed in annoyance. Why won’t they just get off her back about this already? “Jules was the only ACME agent around, and I knew that ACME would be able to get the gowns to safety. And before you ask,” Carmen pointed at Ivy, whose mouth was already open with some smug retort, “I put her in charge instead of you because she would know where the gowns could be put for ACME to return.” At that, Ivy simply leaned back onto the couch and mirrored her brother’s smug grin.  “Yeah, that was a fun night.” She smirked, and Zack tried to hold back his laugh that came out as more of a snort. Carmen raised her brow at the untold story, but she decided not to press. For the sake of her sanity.

“Well, what about Stockholm?” Zack blurted. Ivy and Player’s eyes snapped to Carmen, looking for any hint of discomfort, and Zack immediately tried to rectify the situation. “I-I mean, yknow, you just were gonna go try to get her help before-”

Carmen cut off his anxious rambling, smiling warmly. “Don’t worry about it Zack, I know what you mean. I wanted to talk to Jules to see if she could get ACME to back off. While that obviously didn’t happen, I know Jules didn’t try to betray me.” Carmen glanced out the window for a moment, whispering quietly to herself. “I don’t think I could be angry at her if I tried.” Carmen turned back to her friends and smiled. “Plus, she helped me out in Monaco and Ile De L'oleron afterwards, so-” Player practically leapt up from his chair, causing a loud crash as he knocked the fidget spinners off his desk and dropped the rubix cute he was playing with. “Yeah, let's talk about Monaco! You can’t tell me you guys weren’t flirting at the party. She was so confident you were going to deliver the goods to her door, and you trusted her not to stop you when you stole the eggs. Come on, Red, you know she was flirting with you!” Carmen felt Zack and Ivy’s eyes on her expectantly, and she chuckled at Player’s exasperation. “Player, I’m pretty good at reading people, and I’m fairly certain she wasn’t flirting with me. Even if she was, I was not flirting ba-” “Then what about the roses?”

Carmen’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. How did Zack, of all people, know about the roses?

“Oh my god, the roses! Carm, why the fuck didn’t you tell us about the roses?” Ivy exclaimed, springing up from her relaxed position on the couch.

Carmen bit her lip before answering. “They were just flowers, as a thank you gift for the help. How do you know about them, anyway? I didn’t buy them until after you guys left.”

At that, Player piped up once again. “So Red, you know how at the end of each month, I look through our funds and see how much we spend on capers, to set our budget for the next month? Well, it was pretty interesting for me to see that you used our encrypted card to buy a bouquet of red roses from the flower shop across the street from Julia’s apartment, on the same day we left her the goods.”

Fuck. Carmen needed to shut this down, now. “They were just a thank you gift guys, nothing more. Just something Jules could keep for herself. And red is my color, so the roses seemed like a good gift. Now if you’ll excuse me,” Carmen glared at the redheads sternly, daring them to stop her, before looking down at Player with the same forbidding look. ”I’m going to take a shower. Player, let me know when you’ve got a red eye to Seattle ready.” Carmen closed the laptop, tucked it under her arm and walked out of the room without looking back. ~~~

The video call flickered to black, and Player leaned back into his chair, sighing. Red can be so thick-headed sometimes. As he booked her flight, he thought back to their teasing and banter from moments before.

Red seemed pretty genuine- maybe we were wrong after all.

Player took a deep breath- he didn’t want to call Carmen back so soon, especially when she seemed pretty pissed at the end of their last call- but he had booked her flight for a short two hours from now. So, Player reconnected to Carmen’s laptop, still looking at the red eye information on his other monitor, before hearing a loud, exasperated groan coming from his speakers.

“Holy fuck that was such a mess!”

Player’s head snapped towards his other monitor. The laptop had been set on the dresser across from Carmen’s bed, where she was laying sprawled out in agony. Player quickly hit his mute button and sat back to watch.

Carmen’s arms raised up to cover her face- though Player couldn’t see it, he was sure her face was covered in her signature color. “God, and the roses- why did I use the card for the roses? That’s a basic credit card slip, how am I so stupid!”

Carmen sat up, hands still over her flushed face. “I’m so fucking lucky they didn’t hear us on the ferry or at her office, there’s no way they would’ve ever let that go- I thought I wasn’t being obvious about this stupid crush-

That was all the confirmation Player needed. He clicked unmute and nearly shouted, “So you do have a crush on Julia! I knew it!”

Carmen’s head snapped up to the source of the sound, her face as red as her coat hanging on the wall’s hook. “Player! What the fuck are you-” Carmen froze as she watched Player pick up his cell phone. “Player, if you do what I think you’re about to-”

“Then what? You’re two thousand miles away Red, I'm practically untouchable.” He laughed and grinned smugly at the webcam as he dialed a number.

“Player, you are so dead next time I visit Ontario!” Carmen yelled before she threw her door open, barrelling down the hall to the stairway.

~~~

Zack and Ivy watched in silence as Carmen walked out of the room. When they heard the door to the stairway close, they looked at each other, before they couldn’t take it anymore and burst into laughter.

“Holy shit she looked so mad!” Ivy wheezed through her laughing fit.

“I know! Do you think that means she was telling the truth?” Zack questioned as he tried (and failed) to calm his giggles.

“No way.”

“But she seemed pretty-”

“What are you two laughing about?” Shadowsan’s stern voice stopped the twin’s giggling dead in its tracks. Just as Ivy opened her mouth to make an excuse, since she doubted Carmen wanted Shadowsan involved in her love life, (he is like her father, isnt he?) Zack spoke up.

“We tried to get Carm to confess that she likes Julia, but she kept on telling us she just likes Julia as a friend. Maybe she wasn’t lying, most of her reasons were pretty solid.” Ivy would’ve smacked him then and there if Shadowsan hadn’t interrupted her train of thought with a small chuckle. Since when did Shadowsan chuckle? “On VILE Island, Carmen was trained to be a master of deception. Do you not realize that she was also trained to survive any interrogation?” Shadowsan said, with…humor in his voice? Zack and Ivy were silent for a moment. “Wait, does that mean she actually does like Ju-” The moment was interrupted with a call on Ivy’s phone. When she looked at the caller ID, her eyes widened as she answered it and put the device on speaker. “Carmen does have a crush on Julia!” Player shouted from the phone, just as the Crimson Gay Ghost herself burst into the room and crashed into Ivy. “Dammit!” Carmen yelled, taking the phone from Ivy who was now on the floor with Carmen and laughing. “Player, I’m going to fly to Ontario and kick your ass!” Player’s laughing from the phone was almost drowned out by Zack and Ivy’s. “Oh no you’re not, you’ve got a flight to catch in two hours!” “OoOh where to? To go see your “favorite ACME agent”?” Ivy teased through her laughter. “Yeah Carm, I thought thieves love Jules!” Zack said as he laughed. Carmen jumped off of Ivy, her voice a noticeably higher pitch and her face extremely red as she shouted, “No! I mean- well, that is- I just-” As Zack, Ivy and Player continued to tease an extremely red-faced and stammering Carmen, Shadowsan smiled and quietly walked out of the room. It seems the war may be coming to a close with ACME on their side, but that doesn’t mean Carmen has to stop chasing someone.

[oonajaeadira]

Long Fall Into Oblivion (Ezra x reader)

(header by sirtadcooper - check out the whole beautiful set here.)

Rating: Mature. 

Pairing: Ezra (post-Prospect film) x f!reader

Warnings: Non-explicit sex. Some swears maybe (think there’s a f*ck in there somewhere, my GOODNESS). A lot of gooey, syrupy, soft fluffety fluff. Author attempts at writing Ezra dialogue. A lot of chewy prose.

A/N: I can’t believe I’m posting this, but here goes. I love Ezra. He is a man of questionable morality and an insufferable tongue and I really shouldn’t. But I really do. I just wanted to give him a try. I’ve softened him up here, putting a few years on him so maybe he’s fluffed up some since the events in the film. Also I just ignored the fade or assumed that aurelac mining was still happening because scarcity/demand. Doesn’t matter. Just wanted to go exploring.

Summary: You take a job as an aurelac prospecting trainee and Ezra shows you the ropes. You’re gonna fall in love with him. That’s it. That’s the whole thing.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up here –> TAGLIST

MASTERLIST

________________

Bakhroma is one of the smallest gas giants in the sector, but as you stand on the surface of the Green Moon, it dominates the entire horizon, pulling your focus, threatening to engulf everything around it. You almost feel sorry for the lush moon as you walk through its undergrowth, so gentle and full of beauty, destined many years after you’re gone to give its life to her.

A moon is an orbiting admirer, and what is an orbit but a long fall to oblivion?

There’s a painful, sour ache in your heart as you walk back to the camp in twilight, watching the back of Ezra’s helmet bob along in front of you. You’d spent two days digging that claim only to find the weakest aurelac nest you’ve seen yet, only three viable nodes. You’d dug through one of them by accident and completely melted another like an incompetent fool. Kevva’s ass, you were such a disappointment. Three months in the Green and you still can’t cut a blister out properly. Not even once.

Ezra’s shoulders are wide and tense, his one hand splayed out as he walks, running over the tops of the tall ferns, catching one every now and then only to rip the top away, twirl it between his gloved fingers and toss it impatiently aside.

The other two members of your team headed out on a sling this morning, another two will be arriving in a few days. And you wonder if Ez regrets just not cutting his losses and leaving with them, or at least sending you back in exchange for another kip.

You think about shifting through the comm channels, hoping that he’s chattering away in one of them, switched without your knowledge, but it’s a lost cause. You can hear him breathing on the channel between you. It’s not often Ezra has nothing to say.

________________

You thought your father was leaving you an inheritance. It’s not the reason you took care of him through his illness, but you’d dropped everything to be back home with him through his final months. In a way, it was a blessing, a reason to quit the Dasha factory and the terrible working conditions there, come back home and focus on your dad, relive good memories, just spend time. The reconnection lifted your heart, but his death sank it low again. When you learned he had nothing to leave you but a small house and some old vehicles, you sold what you could and traded in the rest.

Then you had nothing. No family, no job, little savings, questionable future. It almost broke your spirit. But the last few months with your father rekindled your love of him as he told you about his years in the Fringe, mining and prospecting. And your heart had said, “what the hell, let’s try that.” So you listened.

It took some time to track down the right inroads, but you were able to find some ads for prospecting teams, in particular those who were willing to take on members in training for a re-distributed cut. With all provisions included--other than suit and gear, which your father’s inheritance neatly covered--it seemed like just as good of a deal as any, and an adventure to boot.

But the reality was, every team you met with was full of hardened men, and while you were not a soft Central woman, you also weren’t overly versed in weaponry and didn’t know if you could defend yourself out in the Fringe against attack if things got crusty.

You were just about ready to admit defeat when you walked into yet another conference bunker and found your match. The first thing you noticed was that he was standing when you arrived, waiting for you politely rather than manspread at the table. Second were his eyes. Deep, brown, and sad. Maybe sad was the wrong word, certainly it seemed by the lines in his face, possibly by the missing arm, that he’d seen enough sadness, but toward you, it read more as concern. You wouldn’t know it until later when he confessed his feelings about this first meeting, but he was worried you wouldn’t choose him. Ezra had a hell of a time hiring partners. He may have been one of the longest-working aurelac diggers out there, but young kippers saw his greying beard and seasoned diggers saw his lacking arm and they all tended to turn around and walk out before he even said hello. So he’d tried to put himself out there as a trainer, show that he had something more to offer.

It didn’t hurt his feelings when you admitted to him later that those qualities were exactly why you chose him. He seemed the opposite of threatening. And his eyes were bright when he smiled at you. With his thrumming baritone and his Fringe twang and his mixed deck of mosaic words, he had a way of speaking that felt like a fluffy blanket curling around you, your brain vibrating with comfort at every new monologue. He was eccentric and perhaps a little jarringly rough in his humor at times, but there was something about him that you trusted immediately, even though you’d come to learn later you probably shouldn’t have if you were being overly cautious.

Not that your judgement ever came to detriment. Not that he ever proved you wrong that way. Not when it came to you. But the man was dangerous when he had to be in a way you hadn’t initially picked up on.

________________

You hadn’t been out in the Green two weeks before you looked up from the bottom of a dig hole to see Ezra standing over you with a thrower.

“You get down and you stay down, understand?”

“Ez? What--”

“I said stay down! Do not make me waste words on mere repetition!” The fuzzy blanket of his voice replaced suddenly by a snarling, snapping brush wolf, a quick change hitting you like a slap in the ear.

There’d been pops and whizzes as shots rang through and you did as your trainer said, face down, the view of your visor giving you nothing but dirt. Your helmet was a chorus of quick breathing from both of you and sweat rolled down your neck as you begged the eyes of Kevva to look down upon your partner. When the crossfire faded, you’d heard Ezra stalk away. Then there were a couple more shots. Then more footsteps returning.

“You are permitted to stand, trinket. All is well as it can be for us. But not so much for our dearly departed friends.” These words were as soothing as much as his previous ones had burned, and he simply went back to working at the dig at hand as if he’d just come back from taking a leak. It wasn’t until you left the site that evening that you tramped past two rotting raiders, gaudily outfitted with broken face shields, left to let the Green take them.

Ezra whistled as he stepped over them, stopping only to harvest their filters and munition rods, which he tossed your way to stow in your pack, and then continued lazily down the path toward camp. Just another day on the job. 

He may be a little peculiar and not someone to trifle with, he may have just killed two people without remorse or further comment, but his lack of reassuring words told you that this was just part of the deal. You wear the suit, you use the air scrubber in the tent, you follow the landing pod instructions as written, and you defend yourself against those who wish to harm you. Survival by any and all means is paramount, mundane, and something he has no qualms with on any level.

There was something deep down inside of you that instinctually pulled you to follow him, not just down the literal path before you, but whatever path Ezra chose to wander.

________________

Before you’d left the station with him, he’d taken you to a thrower range to gauge your skill which was decent in theory, but dismal compared with what he could do. No matter, he still patiently taught you how to properly clean and charge a weapon and the best way to breathe and pull the trigger; “like you’re taking hold of a man’s...well... Just go easy and firm.” He suggested you should come and practice every day before lift off and then hope to Kevva that you didn’t have to rely too heavily on it.

“If I find myself in a coffin of my own suit, then feel free to defend yourself as a final means of preservation. Otherwise, when it comes down to shots fired, best to let me do the dirty work. Might as well keep the blood where the blood has been.”

You’d been a little nervous about sharing a freighter pod alone with him, but Ezra was...well, not so much a gentleman as just a comfortable soul. 

He always waited until you were hungry to eat, thinking it rude to eat alone in front of you. He never moved around the pod while you were sleeping, content to keep still with a book in his cot. And if you couldn’t sleep, he was always willing to read to you from whatever impossibly dense old world classic he was digging through for the umpteenth time, letting his voice come up from the deeps and pull you gently under. If you asked permission to turn on the radio, he’d ask you “why Isn’t it on yet, woman,” quietly tolerating your taste in harsh and gleeful babblecore pshcyopop. In the later days of the journey, he’d even come to dance with you from time to time, although both of you were dismal at it and ended up with you in a fit of giggles. It was a sure-fire way to cure a case of the pouts you carried through from the morning fitness sessions when he beat you at pushups. Again.

When it came to privacy in the tight space, he had a habit of turning away without having to be asked or stopping his stream of talk when you went to change clothes, just happily chattering away until you called the all clear. Although he was not squeamish about his own state of undress, should you happen to catch it by accident. While he was respectful of your privacy, he seemed to need none of his own, but neither did he flaunt anything. You might look up from studying the flight manual to notice he was changing into a fresh pair of compression pants, tugging them on haphazardly with one hand, more concerned with telling you the overwhelmingly disgusting manufacturing process of Bits Bars than his own ass hanging out where you might see it. At least he always changed facing away from you which was a kindness.

Until it wasn’t.

After you realized you’d fallen quietly in love with him--a sudden, soft moment on the Green--then you’d admit only privately to yourself that you wouldn’t mind if you accidentally saw a little more than the occasional shirtless attire he might wear around the tent.

But in the pod, the only part of him that had caught your curiosity was his stump, and you’d known Ezra intensely enough over the past couple of weeks where you knew he wouldn’t take offense. Especially if you asked him the right way.

“Will you tell me a story, Ezra?”

“I feel that it is my duty to do so whether you ask me to or not. Shall I choose, or is there something in particular you would like to hear?”

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, propped up against his cot, going through his kit, cleaning his gear. You waited until he noticed your lack of answer and looked up to meet your eyes. When he saw that you had put your manual down and were focusing all your quiet attention on him, he stopped his busy work. 

When Ezra gives you his attention, it is absolute. When he knows you seriously need something from him, that becomes his immediate main priority and all else can wait. It’s only gotten more intense since that day, but there is a trust that resides between you when you look into his eyes, gathering your words as he waits patiently every time to hear whatever you’re going to request of him. There’s always hope there in his big browns, always something specific he’s waiting for you to ask, and every day you get a little bit closer to understanding what it might be. But until then, any question is a welcome one, any query is met with his wish to provide.

“Will you tell me how you lost your arm?”

At first you thought you may have gone too far, that maybe you insulted him, as his eyebrows peaked together and he looked down at his hand. But then, “That is a tale that may cause you some consternation, trinket. The Green is dangerous and unforgiving, and there were times I may not have been a man worthy of fair opinion.”

“My father was a prospector, you know. I’ve heard stories. Have you ever killed anyone?”

He clicked his tongue and screwed up an eye, causing the thin white scar on his cheek to twist. Then he sighed and returned to your locked gaze. “To be honest, I have. Though I have never done so with pleasure, I have killed in defense and out of desperation, and it was out of dispatching a man in this way that I came to lose the second favorite of all my appendages.”

“Second favorite?”

“Well, it depends what you classify as a limb.” He huffed a small laugh, a spark in his eye, trying to diffuse the harsh subject in his own way.

His leaning into baseness never bothered you. There was something earthy about it, gritty and rough, but never lewd. You rewarded his crassness with a smile. “Do you plan on killing me out in the Green?”

“I would hope my murdering days are behind me, and if they are not, you would see me aim a thrower at everyone but you in the course of my spree. You are under my tutelage, and for that, I owe you a duty of care. That is my word by Kevva.”

“Then tell me the story. I like your stories. I promise not to judge now-Ezra by then-Ezra.”

A dimple formed on his cheek, a punctuation mark framing the approaching anecdote on his lips. “Then I will declare myself absolved of any sin heretofore and regale you with a clean and grateful heart.”

________________

You can see the tent through the trees and you realize with some horror that it’s just you and Ezra for the next few nights. If he’s angry with you, and this is how he is when he’s upset, the silence will be unbearable.

Even that little girl he helped out here years ago was probably more capable than you. You feel so lost in this moment, and it’s only made worse by his silence. You fumble with your communicator and hit the mute just in time to choke on a sob.

This isn’t like you. You’re not one to cry when things get rough. You hardly shed a tear when your father died. But the thought of that just brings another sob and as acting as your own psychologist you realize that you are experiencing some displaced sorrow, the odd need to please the leading male in your life, the one that’s walking ahead of you, away from you. If he’d just turn around and throw you his worn weary smile, if he’d just start up a conversation you’d know that there was hope for you, you’d know you didn’t give up everything to be here in a job you couldn’t hack.

You gotta stop this. Or it’s going to be an uncomfortable night.

Shake it off.

Once you enter the tent, the usual dance happens. Ezra reaches up to turn on the air scrubber and you unhook his filter tube from his helmet. When he turns to you, you pull open the zipper cover on his suit and start his zip for him before lifting his helmet up and off. He can pull the zip the rest of the way, but you generally pull the left collar down for him so he can get his arm out. He’s on his own from there as you turn to fuss with your own gear. 

________________

You remember it starting easily enough. He was telling you a story about the breeding habits of the Tokovian Musk Owl and you could see he was having trouble with his suit zipper, yanking at it and trying to look down at it even though it was under his chin and his helmet. Without another hand to keep the fabric taut, the zip didn’t want to release, so you simply batted his hand away and started it for him. He didn’t even stop his yammering, just threw in a “thank you” somewhere in between “could hear them screeching” and “for a fuck.” He’d right out asked you the day before if you wouldn’t mind disengaging the filter tube just because it was delicate and he didn’t want to mangle the expensive part trying to pop it out one-handed day after day. And while he could manage the helmet fine enough, his prominent nose thanked you for a smoother removal for sure. 

It wasn’t the only routine dance you’d concocted. 

There was the harness dance.

While dig days were excruciating, you always looked forward to helping him attach the harness for his prosthesis--a kind of rigid pole attached to a shovel so you didn’t have to do all the hard digging alone. There were a couple of straps that came around his torso with multiple latches and you’d come to really enjoy wrapping your arms around him to fit the straps on. Sure, you could do the job just as easily from behind, but if you embraced him at the front, he’d usually raise his arm and let it come to rest around your shoulders while you worked. If you let yourself dream, it would be easy to imagine that he might be pressing you into him just a little bit.

And there was the harvesting dance.

On a dig, you were the one to mix the fazer and Ezra did the pour. He fished the sack, you cut the cord. You sliced the outer casing and held it open while he did the extraction. And with the flesh-covered stone, he told you every time to “hold it like you love it” so he could cut away the slippery blister before cleaning the gemstone.

It was a beautiful harmony. And the only way it worked. Because once on every dig he urged you to do a solo extraction, and on every dig, you pierced the blister and lost that stone. And on every dig, he squeezed your shoulder and told you it was a wondrous try, that he was proud of you, and there would always be another turn. There was no sarcasm, no pity, just a warm smile and ceaseless optimism even though you just lost both of you thousands in pay.

These were the first touches, these shoulder squeezes that ran down your arm on the let-go. Sometimes he would just reach out and grab onto you like a pole to help himself up, or he might stumble off balance on uneven ground and without the counterweight of his right arm he’d throw his hand out onto you to steady himself. He wasn’t beyond lightly touching the small of your back to encourage you down a path or to take your next try at a gem pull. 

This was all part of something you’ve secretly named the left-handed-lover’s dance. Basically, that you keep on his left whenever you can in case he needs your help or has the inclination to reach for you. It started out as just trying to be a good partner. Then it became a passing hope that it was more than just a friendly bond. But you were both here to do a job. He was here to teach you to be an independent prospector and you were here to assist and learn. That was evident at the end of the day; once you were both in the tent and out of the suits he never touched you, never so much as bumped into you or grazed your hand in passing an item or clapped you on the arm after a good joke. 

But out in the field all zipped in and helmets on, there was nothing more natural than his gentle hand guiding you or reaching for your assistance, including the day you realized you loved him.

________________

Before you can turn away to strip off your own coverings, Ezra catches your arm, spinning your face into the light. You try to shake him off, not wanting him to catch your eyes puffy from crying and your cheeks still streaked with tears, but his grip is not so gentle now and he yanks you back around to his stormy glare, chin up, brows low. His intensity paralyzes you, rendering you unable to continue your struggle when he catches your eyes with his.

When Ezra gives you his attention, it is absolute.

His gaze travels back and forth between your eyes, waiting for an explanation, a minute so stringent it breaks you down, dissolves you into the tears you’d tried so hard to hide.

“I’m sorry, Ezra. I really am trying... I don’t know why I’m such a scuffer at this and I know it would only be right to release you from the contract and tell you to send me back but I don’t want you to, I really wanna stay, I really wanna learn and I’m so, so sorry.”

Your words have an immediate effect, softening him, pulling his glare into concern and wonder, his lips parting just the tiniest bit in surprise.

“This is the reason for your heavy mood? You think I am provoked by your proficiency in the field?” 

“I crusted up good today and it seems like you’re not happy about it. Just...know that it means so much to me that...I don’t wanna let you down.”

“Oh, trinket, no.” An incredulous huff jumps out of him and his grip on your arm loosens, becomes a splayed warm support behind your shoulder, moving in soothing patterns and you’re instantly relieved that your assumptions were wrong. “You have done no harm in my book. It is not an easy thing to deliver a gem of this ilk into the world unscathed. Your opportunities have been few and scattered and it takes many sticks before a lover becomes a lothario.” He knows the crass humor will make you laugh, knows what to say to lighten your heart, to get you to soften, and bring you into his intimate, conspiratorial mood. “To be perfectly honest, I am selfish to an unrighteous degree, for every gem you burn keeps me in value to you. A worthy sacrifice to guarantee you mightn’t be so quick in your need to fly away from me until your training’s complete.”

This causes a hitch in your breath as you see the welcome turn the conversation he’s taking and you follow the path he’s making for you. “I don’t want to leave you, Ez.”

A smile creeps up one side of his mouth. “Well then I am a happy man. A bargain is struck! Partners it is.”

“Partners it is.”

A moment hangs between you as he rubs his thumb in slow circles on your shoulder. There’s that look in his eye again, the one where he’s waiting for you to ask the question he wants to hear from you. So close now.

Still, you’re unsure. “I guess I’m lucky I found the one person who wants an incompetent partner.”

“No, I do not, nor is it what I have and I must express my objection to your self-debasement. This work is not for the shiny, and you have not once complained about taking on the meat of the digging or the crawl of my schedule.”  His hand comes to your helmet shield and he rakes his thumb across it as if he ached to wipe away one of your staleing tears. “Those bright eyes of yours got a penchant for spotting deposits more skillfully than I could ever manage and that’s not something that can be taught; that’s talent, girl. The blistering?” He shrugs. “Even I can’t manage that without the steady help of your fine hands. You may think that your blunders in education are causing us some financial ruin, but our fortunes are creamy. I assure you, we can afford it.”

That look is still there. He’s waiting. “There’s some ‘us’ and ‘we’ in there, Ez.” Your hands drift to his sides, taking fistfuls of his compression suit top, willing him closer.

The edges of his eyes take on the crinkle you’ve come to find so much comfort in. “So there is.”

You’re almost there. You know what he wants. “Why were you so quiet on the walk back?” 

“Because for the next few days we are alone here and I have a mind full of questions I do not know how to ask you.”

“Then let me go first.” A yearning happiness settles in his brown eyes; finally. Finally you’ve found out what it is he needs you to request of him. “If I take this helmet off, are you going to kiss me, Ez?”

His eyes close in contentment and he nods, “Yes. Yes, little jewel. Yes I am, that and more. I hope I have inferred correctly that it is your wish that I do so, because I am in free fall. I feel my orbit ending and my pull to you is complete.”

_______________

“A moon is an orbiting admirer, and what is an orbit but a long fall to oblivion?”

Speculating days were some of your favorite times, just wading through the brush and looking for the telltale signs and shoots of an underlying deposit. Sometimes you came upon nests of strange groundling insects or flowers that only grew in secret. There were treasures underfoot on this poisonous moon, but if you remembered to look up as well, you might find some dangerous beauties there too. 

On that day--the one where you finally understood your heart--you’d looked up to find that you were on a cliffside overlooking a valley, the canopy a million different hues of green, the gas giant looming over half the sky in a big pink and orange semi-circle. There was a fallen log that served as a perfect seat for the perfect view and you knew Ezra wouldn’t mind if you stole a few moments to sit and to take it in. It’s just the kind of thing he’d appreciate. And you were proven right when he came up behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder to steady himself as he swung one leg then the other over the log, finding a perch next to you, spouting pretty words through the channel link--soft and low--about moons and orbits and obilvions.

“That glowing beauty is Bakhroma. She is quiet and fierce, made up of the unfathomable and the unknowable, always within sight, but out of reach and untouchable unless one would trade the honor with great sacrifice. She reflects the light that is given to her with a patience that is heretofore untold. And the Green Moon upon which we ride follows where she goes like a lovesick fool, spinning around her in a heady kind of adoration, full of secret treasures buried deep down that will ultimately one day belong to her, falling incrementally over eons until he finally loses himself in her, all his glories gladly forfeit to her welcome and inevitable embrace. Alone but together, seemingly eternal, pulled as one by the laws of a mysterious universe.”

The void that came after those words was filled with the beating of your heart, and you were sure he could hear it through the channel.

When he’d landed there beside you, you’d registered how his hand slid off your shoulder, diagonally down across your back, coming to rest at your waist, his arm draped lightly around you. Natural. Easy. Everything was warm--the colors of the sky, the care with which he kept you close as if to better hear the honey sweetness in his prose, the fire burning in your lungs and neck.

Ezra probably didn’t know that you spoke a little Vayok.

Bakh being the Vayok word for adornment. Ornament, Gem. Roma was a modifier, a diminutive. Small. Dear.

Bakhroma. Sentimental bauble. A little jewel.

In other words, a trinket.

All you wanted to do was sit down to take in the view of an entire world for a few moments, but by the time Ezra took your hand and helped you to your feet, all you saw was him.

________________

The helmet is barely off before his lips are sealed to yours in a press of greed. Even if he can’t form words when he kisses you, he can’t help but express his deep relief in a heartbreaking moan. It’s a fight to release yourself from the suit when he keeps pulling you against him and every time you try to get some space between you to work the zipper, he chuckles into your mouth, enjoying the tease and the struggle. It’s simultaneously frustrating and thrilling and you give in for a few moments just to give him what he seems to want so desperately right now.

Ezra kisses like a man starved for air, long, hard, and full of need, peeling his lips away only to come back for another breath of you until his initial want is slaked and he slows, allows for more time between his taking, his mouth starting to mumble against yours, praising you with pet names, telling you how perfect you are to him, how long he’s “fought against my more dubious natures to respect your womanly virtues and take them only when you could see in me a man worth bestowing them on.”

You’re able to use his weakness for monologuing to turn around in his vice-like embrace, finally freeing yourself of the suit and he takes the opportunity to drawl more pretty words in your ear, warning you that “I’m afraid I have been enamored of you overly long and may be extra eager in my attentions. So you just say the word if you need a slow down, gentle one, and I will do my best to comply. Although I will admit it will be a difficult endeavor indeed as I feel I am entering your atmosphere and nothing might quell this burn but finding some drowning place to land.”

Your first impression of him was of a man whose age and temperament and body would not be able to overpower you.

Your first impression was wrong.

Of course, it helps that you are willing.

It doesn’t take long for him to strip you down, and then himself. To kiss you down onto the floor. To find exactly where you like to be touched most and how long it takes for you to break from it. He has so many words for you, so many praises to sing about every part of you that is round or soft or wet, comparing you to things that are sweet and plush or celestial and holy. And when you take his favorite limb in hand--as wondrous as the rest of his body--and guide it to its fit, he plunders and harvests all you have to give him, filing you with himself, for as long as you call for it, as long as you let him. He loves you like he speaks to you: rough and drawn out, full of beautiful tangents and meandering plotlines, but in the end it is beautiful and fulfilling; you may be just a little bit confused how you got to the ending, but you’re completely in awe.

When you lay breathing heavy, staring but not seeing the ceiling of the tent, your consciousness seemingly lifted to see through it to the stars, to the glowing face of Bakhroma, you run hands through rough-chopped hair on a head laying on your chest. He’s listening to your heartbeat, waiting for it to slow down so he can start again. The air is thick--even the air scrubber can’t keep up with all your humidity--and there’s a halo around each bulb of the string lights just barely illuminating the darkness.

“How long, Ez?”

“Hm?”

“How long have you been waiting for that.”

“Most likely since the day you walked into my interview. I am a man of simple wants and you had all the right parts for my preferences.”

“For real, Ez.”

He tipped his head up to find you. “What you ask has many true answers, and I stand by the first. I have no qualms telling you of my weakness for a pretty succulence and a kind smile the likes of which you possess. But if you are asking when I knew I would have it, well, that may have been the first day you danced. Or when you asked me to read you to sleep. Or when I understood I wouldn’t let those bastard raiders get near enough to take their turn at your qualities when I had not had them myself. Or when you finally saw me as a viable person to drape your affections on; maybe it was that day too.”

“When I finally saw you as....”

“I have read many tomes and verses but none so full of beautiful passages as your face that day on the cliff. There is a difference of knowing and being. I knew the feel of your pull that day, but found I’d been in orbit all along.”

How he can live this way, twist everything into a tossed away poem...it should be exhausting. Yet you feed off it. You breathe it like air.

After another long cycle of frenzied entanglement and violent euphoria, you ask Ezra if he’d like to move to a cot, maybe get some sleep. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to walk to the dig tomorrow morning,” you confess.

“No need to worry about tomorrow,” he says, wapping his arm around you and dragging you back to him, grumbling into your ear. “We are the only prospectors in this sector and the aurelac will wait. Until our new compatriots arrive, we are officially on hiatus. Recreational mining only. Restricted to the confines of this tent. By order of your supervisor. In the interest of more precious treasures. And I intend to strike it rich.”

“Well. I’m here to assist. And learn.”

“When it comes to this dig, trinket, you are more than competent. I am no longer your trainer. Partners it is.”

“Partners it is.”

The new contract is struck, signed and sealed in kissing and in touch and a long, slow fall into inevitable oblivion.

[writing-in-april]

Postmarked In The Past

Spencer Reid x Female Single Mom Reader

Summary: After sixteen years of no contact Reader reconnects with Spencer because she has to reveal the secret she’s been keeping since she stopped sending letters to him.

A/N: Hey heyyy! This is my sixteenth fic (it’s actually was totally unintentional to choose the 16th for this fic even though the daughter is 16 in this fic lol 😂) for my 30 fics in 30 days for April!! This one is based off of this request and is part of my unlinked Spencer Reid & Letters series! Thanks for all the love and support lately- I was going to put out my plan for my 1500 follower celebration yesterday or today but if you saw my post I’ve been struggling so it’ll probably come on the 19th or the 20th. Submit an ask here- I love hearing from everyone 🥰Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy 🥰

Warnings: Reader keeps a huge secret she definitely shouldn’t have, Reader is a single mother-the daughter doesn’t have a specified name but she is specified to be 16, Reader is very defensive when her daughter finds the letters, mentions of a one night stand

Main Masterlist Word Count: 2.5k

Spencer had been a bright spot in my life, one that had been snuffed out all because of me. When I had found myself pregnant with his child, after I had visited him once, I bolted. For a long time I justified my actions, saying to myself that it was better that Spencer was unburdened while his career was just starting out. But, deep down I knew how wonderful Spencer would have been as a father, how he would have moved heaven and earth to make everything work. And, that guilt haunted me.

The memories I had of him were so far in between, every moment with him had been so fleeting at the end. I struggled to sometimes even remember how he looked as it had been sixteen years since I last laid eyes on him.

I had to strain my memory to remember the way his gelled hair curled around his ears and how sometimes I saw him let the curls free only around me. His eyes had been brown, I could remember that. But, pinpointing what shade they were when they glinted in the light or were drenched in the shadows was lost to me. I knew he had been tall and lanky, his hands reflecting that with how spindly they were. To remember how those fingers had felt on my skin, or how his lips had marked me, or how he would gently stroke my hair was too difficult. Whether it was because I couldn’t remember or that I didn’t want to, it was just too hard for me to want to try to strain my memory anymore.

The labor had been the most difficult thing I had gone through, no one had been there to hold my hand. And, I didn’t really want anybody else except Spencer holding it. I had gritted my teeth and accepted it, pushing through the physical and emotional pain, especially since the pain of losing Spencer had been entirely because of me. I had been given a beautiful baby daughter that day and it was then that I started to force myself to forget Spencer, she looked too much like him to be able to bear.

The only things that remained in my life that involved him were the letters I sent to him in the last year of our relationship while we were long distance and my daughter. The letters were able to be shoved in a box at the bottom of a closet, but my daughter confronted me with my actions everyday by existing. I loved my daughter very much, I just tried to avoid the topic of her father by concocting a lie and making myself forget all of Spencer’s features so I wouldn’t see them as much in her. My nightmare would be the two things converging to confront me with my guilt, I don’t think I could handle that.

—-

At the kitchen table I saw my daughter, holding a letter. Her holding a letter wasn’t at its core a bad thing of course, but I could tell by the slight yellowing of the paper that it was getting old. Immediately panic spread through me; there were no other old letters she’d be looking at besides mine, the ones I sent to Spencer.

“Those are private.” I snapped defensively, definitely too hostile to be reasonable. It was obvious by my tone of voice that I was hiding something.

“Private?!” She yelled, giving away that she had already read at least a few of them. I clenched my eyes shut to prepare for her question, “Are these from my father?! Who you said was a one night stand?!” I vividly remember explaining the lie I had concocted for her, her being confused why I would only be with her father once. It was a hard subject to dance around, a difficult lie for me and her to swallow. But, the alternative was too painful for me to be honest with her, or honest with Spencer. And, I knew it made me selfish, at the time it had been so Spencer wouldn’t stop his blossoming career. With time I realized that I really had done it because I had been scared. The guilt had started to sting worse when I realized that.

I had been caught, there was no weaseling out of this. I hanged my head in defeat, finally admitting to the large lie I had even roped the rest of my family in, “Yes.”

If she had been a dragon she’d be breathing fire on me while she spoke, “And why would you keep this from me! Did he do something bad or something?! Is that why you didn’t tell me?!”

“No-I-“ I stammered a few times until I found the words, “I- I did it because I didn’t want to hold him back… We were so young, and I knew he’d quit his new job across the country to come back to me.” Keeping the details still vague was my only armor right now. I kept to myself how those letters were the way we communicated for months when he started in the academy. We were only able to meet up once a month, and one month I unexpectedly fell pregnant. I never sent another letter or came to visit him again once I found out.

She clenched her jaw at me, looking back down at the scores of letters that we had written, and I had hidden. Her next question now made me clench my jaw, “C-can I see him? Or call him? Or send him a letter?” If you don’t know how to contact him anymore I’m sure we can-“

I was nervous as to where this was going. There was no way I could contact Spencer again after all these years, the guilt already ate at me everyday. Seeing and remembering his face would only make it worse. Fear was fueling me and I cut her off because of it, “No- I- I don’t think it’s a good idea...I just need more time- until I’m ready.” I started to shrink away from her, my authority slipping through my fingers as I became more and more vulnerable.

“You’ve waited sixteen years, you’ll never be ready.” The spite in her voice was stinging, she wasn’t completely wrong in her statement.. And when I didn’t answer she then stormed away, slamming the door to her room.

——

Our relationship in the few weeks following was strained at best, estranged at worse. She barely spoke to me since then, the biggest conversation we had was about what was for dinner- and that had been about two sentences long.

I was slowly coming around to the idea of perhaps finding a way for her and Spencer to reconnect. The guilt that I had been so afraid of becoming worse if I confronted it head on, only grew worse by avoiding it. I was actually going to talk to her after I got home from work, until I realized what she did.

She left her own letter on the table titled Dear Mom, detailing where she was going without giving any specifics. There was one part that gave her reasoning for writing her plan down, she didn’t want me to have a heart attack even if she was mad at me. Plus there were a few sentences about how she had used her own money that she had been saving up, which was supposed to be for college only serving to make you even more frustrated. At the bottom she wrote- I’m going to find my Dad, please don’t follow me or call the police.

I scoffed to myself, wondering if she expected her warning to not to follow her to be followed. Of course I was going to follow her, there was no way I was going to just let her go off on her own like that.

It wouldn’t be too hard to find her. Spencer may have changed apartments since then, but one quick google search of news articles he was mentioned in showed me that he still worked at the BAU in Quantico. It was probably a safe bet that my daughter did the same thing and was planning on visiting him at his office.

The plane ride there had been tumultuous, not in the sense that there was any chaotic occurrence or severe turbulence on the plan, more like in my mind. My hands shook, my foot tapped, and my mind raced while I took the long flight from Las Vegas all the way to Quantico. My mind went round in circles whether or not I viewed Spencer meeting my daughter- our daughter as a good thing. It was difficult to accept that even though they’d both most likely be mad at me, they deserved to meet. Especially since I knew how good of a father Spencer could potentially be. Once I had landed I didn’t stop, getting a cab straight from the airport to where the BAU offices were located.

The building looked daunting in front of me. It wasn’t a skyscraper by any means, but the task that I was here to do was so big it felt like one as I stared at it while trying to work up the courage to go in. The guilt however, was too hard to ignore.

My mind was on autopilot as I told the secretary at one of the front desks. It was too stressful to focus on worrying, so exhausted from the emotional roller coaster I was riding. An agent had assured me that she was safe which made some of the stress melt from my shoulders luckily.

“Here she is.” The agent gestured to the office, empty of any other person except my daughter. I felt even more relieved now that I saw her with my own eyes.

When I entered she waited a second before speaking timidly with disappointment, “He’s not here, he's on a case.” Her demeanor had deflated almost immediately as she saw me escorted up.

“Who told you that?” My arms crossed around my chest, nervous and furious all at once. I didn’t need to tell my daughter how in trouble she was, by the pout on her face she knew she’d be getting grounded for a long time even if I did let her talk to him.

“This nice lady named Garcia, she works with him. But, she did tell me I had to wait for you until she called him” For the first time since I had read her letter to me I cracked a smile. When we had still been communicating, Spencer often wrote and spoke about his teammates. Besides a fleeting photo of the team shown to me by him while I had been over here visiting, all my perceptions of the team and how they might look were all based on my imagination.

Despite that, when a vibrantly dressed woman clicked her heels into the room, I knew it was her. Spencer had perfectly described her, shining bright compared to the dull colors of the bureau’s office.

“So your Spencer’s baby mama.” Yep, she was definitely as blunt and beautiful as Spencer had described. I blanched at her comment, though I didn’t deny it, which was all she needed to know to confirm.

“Can you give me his number?” I skittered past the question, not wanting to confirm it out loud.

She beamed brightly at me, already starting to punch in the numbers with the phone on the desk in front of me. “You can call him now if you want on this phone, they just stopped working for the day.”

When she handed me the phone, it had already started ringing. I couldn’t help but panic, almost refusing the phone until my daughter nudged me forward to grab it. My finger trembled severely as I wrapped my hands around the phone, but I still managed to hold on to bring it up to my ear just as someone picked up the phone.

“Hello?” It was him, he sounded so similar to the boy you knew, that boy was a man now. He sounded more haggard compared to sixteen years ago; I wondered what all had happened since then.

“Hey- Spencer it’s me.” By the hitch in his voice that came through the speaker, he knew who it was.

At first I heard nothing from him, only some rustled feedback in the speaker. My shoulders were practically at my ears now afraid he might hang up. He did eventually stumble out a greeting, “H-hi? Why are you calling me after all these years- aaand on a phone at my work?”

“I’ve got to be honest with you,” I cryptically answered with an evident shake in my voice. I was biting my nails now, not caring if I chipped the polish on them. My daughter grabbed my hand to comfort me even though she was probably still furious at me which helped coax out my next statement, “cause I haven’t told you why I stopped talking to you…” I breathed in deeply once before I finally admitted the secret I had held for so many years, “Spencer, you have a daughter, she just turned sixteen.”

Dead silence was all I got, that was until I heard a choked out sob from him, “Why?”

He didn’t need to elaborate any further, it was quite clear what he was asking. Again another meek shaky reply came from me, “There were a lot of reasons- the main one was I didn’t want to hold you back.”

My daughter was now crying as was I, I hadn’t given her my reasoning until now. Maybe one day I’d give Spencer all the reasons why I had hidden it from him for so many years even though it was painful. I had held a lot of guilt about not ever contacting him again or even sending another letter. Spencer deserved to know everything, especially about his daughter who was the spitting image of him in almost every way.

“Can I talk to her?” I agreed, which seemed to surprise my daughter. I think she thought I’d be furious enough with her to not let her speak to him. She would still be getting many privileges taken away from her, just not this one as it was my fault she never knew her father in the first place. My fingers shook even more as I moved to click the speaker button so he could hear her speak.

“Hi- dad.” They spoke for a while, while I took the back seat, barely interjecting. They both deserved every ounce of father and daughter time that I had deprived them from throughout the years. My chest did feel lighter now that I had told him, now that my daughter was getting the chance to know him. Hearing them laugh and giggle with each other almost immediately only cemented how much she was her father’s daughter.

When the phone was handed back to me, after seemingly hours of talking (Garcia had even popped in a few times to get me more coffee) Spencer asked,“Can you stay in Quantico till I get back?”

I smiled, happy that I’d finally be able to see and remember his face again after all this time, “We’ll be here waiting, it’s time you meet your daughter in person.”

Ask Me Anything

—

Tag lists (fill out this form to join): If your url has a strike through it means tumblr won’t let me tag you- check in your settings if you allow yourself to be searchable

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @boxofsparklingmuses @multixfandomwriter @takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat @anaagraceeberr @ashcakes1918 @reid-me-a-story @cosmic-psychickitty

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat

Letters Series: (Group of Unlinked fluff fics about Spencer and letters): @whoreforthebau @sierraraeck @90spumkin

[chudleycanonficfest]

The Switch

Day 10, Story #2 is by @adenei

Title: The Switch

Author: adenei

Pairing: George Weasley/Angelina Johnson

Prompt: First Date

Rating: T

TW: Mentions of character death

***********

The shop is quiet as George locks the door to his office. It’s been a month since the grand re-opening of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and the steady thrum of customers has put the business back on track to where it was before the untimely closure due to the war. Things are different, of course, with Fred not being there, but George’s family and friends have stepped up and offered more support than George knows what to do with—not that he wanted it in the first place.

  In retrospect, he is thankful for his family and friends, Ron and Angelina in particular. They helped him put down the bottle and get his life back on track. 

  “Fred wouldn’t want this.” Angelina had told him late one night while she and Lee were staying over in his flat that smelled of days-old Firewhisky and hadn’t been cleaned since before they’d gone into hiding at Aunt Muriel’s.

  “How would Fred feel if you let everything the two of you worked for go to shit? How would you feel if the tables were turned and if it was—” Ron had yelled as he snatched the half-full bottle away from his brother and dumped it down the drain. The emotion was raw as the words caught in his throat, the end of the phrase hanging between them like the weight of a bludger pulling them down and grounding them.

  At first, he’d been pissed, but they were right. Fred wouldn’t have wanted George to resort to any of that. And even though he’d been begrudging in accepting help to begin with, George knew he wouldn’t have gotten the shop up and running as swiftly as he did without everyone’s help. The hole in his heart still ached, and not a moment went by where he didn’t miss his brother, but finding a new stride in this post-war life is exactly the push George needed to not only move on but also honor and make Fred proud.

  As George makes his way onto the main floor of the shop, a figure standing behind the counter makes him pause. He’d recognize that silhouette anywhere, the unrequited crush from his Hogwarts days now thrust back in his life, as if to taunt him of just another thing he’ll never have.

  “You’re still here?” The exhaustion is apparent in George’s voice after a ten-hour day.

  “Yeah, I wanted to make sure you didn’t stay on and try to do all the inventory yourself again like last week.” Angelina runs her fingers over the various displays of fireworks that are locked away behind the checkout area as she lightly teases George.

  “Nah, I learned from that mistake. Besides, don’t you have your regular job that you need to get back to? Now that things are running smoothly again, we’ll be able to manage without the extra help. Especially once things die down after the first.”

  “I don’t mind spending a few hours here after work, you know that. Things’ll start to pick up again soon once the Quidditch season gets underway, I’m sure, but right now, my corresponding duties are light. Call me crazy, but I’ve enjoyed spending more time with you lately. Almost makes me feel like we’re back in Hogwarts, you know? When real life and responsibilities seemed so far away.”

  A chuckle escapes George’s lips. It was true, all this time they’d been spending together, especially with Lee and sometimes Alicia, almost made everything feel right again.

  “Well, we can hang out in other places, too. I swear I don’t live at Wheeze’s.”

  “George, you live upstairs.”

“Ah, bugger off.”

  “I’m only teasing.”

  “And all I’m saying is if you want to do something outside these walls, all you have to do is ask.”

  “Are you hungry, then?”

  A genuine laugh bubbles up into George’s throat at Angelina’s brazenness. “Bloody hell, woman! Impatient much?”

  His outburst brings a smile to Angelina’s face, brightening the dark circles under her eyes from the extra hours spent helping out. 

  “You’re the one who said to ask. So, what do you say? Fancy a drink and a meal down the street? It’s late enough that the Leaky shouldn’t be too busy.”

  “I s’pose it couldn’t hurt. Beats making something for myself, that’s for sure.”

  “Great, let’s go.” 

  Angelina walks around the counter and reaches out to take George’s hand in hers. An electric shock shoots up his arm from the point of contact, and George has to stop himself from pulling away from the surprise of it all. A memory flashes through his mind of twinkling lights amongst a silver backdrop in the Great Hall all those years ago. He sees two figures dancing and twirling to the music of the Weird Sisters, one with flaming red hair much like his own and the other whose sapphire gown swished against the travertine floor. The memory brings a reminiscent smile to his lips as Angelina tugs him out the door.

  When they reach the Leaky, the pair settles into a quiet booth in the back of the establishment, away from curious eyes. It’s late in the evening for a meal, which is made evident by the empty tables and chairs scattered throughout the pub. Only a handful of patrons litter the bar, allowing Tom to be attentive to their needs. 

  George takes a large swig when the barkeep returns with Butterbeers, and they place their orders.

  “No shot of Firewhisky tonight then?” 

  George shakes his head. “I told you, Ange, I was serious about stopping. I can’t use the bottle as a crutch for grief anymore.”

  Angelina nods as she observes him intently. George can feel the heat of her gaze trailing over him as he takes another sip from his drink. 

  “You’re staring.”

  “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

  “Oh? And here I was thinking I was mesmerizing you with my dashing good looks,” George quips. 

  Angelina smiles, and for a moment, George thinks he sees a blush on her cheeks before she recovers.  For all the time they spent together during Hogwarts, and more recently in the months following the war, George finds it odd that they’re struggling with conversation now.

  “Knut for your thoughts?” asks George.

  “Just that it’s been nice reconnecting with you. And Lee. Circumstances are shit, of course, but with my hectic schedule during Quidditch season, I don’t get much time for socializing and friends. I even had to drop my registration for the semi-pro league I was hoping to play for.”

  George nods, and his stomach twists as he processes her words. That would mean she’d be leaving soon once things got busy. He’s overcome with the urge to see if her job is something she’s passionate about.

  “Do you love it? Your job, I mean.”

  “Well, yeah, if I can’t play professionally, the next best thing is writing and commentating. Plus, I’ve gotten to see the world all on the Ministry’s dime. Can’t complain there…”

  “But is it something you see yourself doing for a long time?” George presses. He doesn’t mean to sound judgmental, but he needs to know if it’s even worth it to pursue.

  “Well, after graduation, it seemed like the right fit. The opening was there, my parents were encouraging me to see the world, and I didn’t have anything tying me down. Honestly, I think my parents thought it was safer for me to travel, especially with the war on...”

  And what about now? 

  George is nodding his head up and down while the question ricochets in his mind. He opens his mouth, gathering the courage to allow the four words to escape his mouth when Angelina interrupts him.

  “Well, there are some openings that would allow me to stay in London that have just come up. They’re looking for commentators and stats writers for the matches played in the Kensington stadium. So, if you needed an extra hand at the shop, I could stay—”

  “—I don’t want you to stay for the shop. If you want to travel the world, you should. I doubt you’ve seen all the world has to offer in two seasons.”

  No! What are you thinking! 

  George can almost hear Fred chastising him for his rash response. It doesn’t come out the way he meant it to sound, and he knows he messed up given the crestfallen look on Ange’s face.

  “I only meant—”

  “I-I’ve actually already put in for the London job, George. And I promise it’s not because of the shop. Lee promised to help me with commentating, and this way I can play again. I start training next week. You know how much I missed playing Quidditch, and now that England is safer, I can stay and have the best of both worlds.” 

  The longer she goes on, it feels like she’s rambling and going on with a laundry list of pre-prepared reasons, which doesn’t sound like the Angelina he knows. It’s almost like she’s trying to convince herself that those are the reasons she’s staying, and not for anything else.

  “Oh.”

  Ange rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, I know you and Fred always used to think you two were the center of the universe, but I promise I didn’t choose to stay just for you.”

  Her voice is light, and she’s smiling, but George can’t help but sense something else lingering beneath the surface. Disappointment, perhaps? Or maybe he’s just reading into things too much. Hoping something might be between them that really isn’t. He forces himself to stop overthinking and simply enjoy her company instead.

  “Well, I, for one, am happy you’re staying. We’ll be able to get together more often, and it’ll almost feel like our Hogwarts days. Maybe I’ll even be able to convince you and Alicia to test new products again.”

  Angelina nearly spits out her Butterbeer at George’s joke as Tom approaches with their meal. He knows he’s not fooling either of them; the irony is that the girls were always two steps ahead of him and his brother. They were the only two in their year who managed to avoid becoming test subjects to all of their prototypes.

  The two fall into more reminiscing as they tuck into their fish and chips. George doesn’t realize how ravenous he is until he starts eating, and he’s even more grateful for Ange’s suggestion now.

  As they are polishing off the remainder of their baskets, the topic of conversation falls on the Yule Ball, as Ange remembers how Fred had tossed the wad of paper at her.

  “It was romantic, wasn’t it?” George jokes as he remembers his brother’s ridiculous attempt at asking a girl out. “Still don’t know why you said yes to that tosser.”

  To this day, he’d always resented his brother for drawing his wand first and asking Ange to the ball. Of course, George knew it was all meant to be a bluff. It was Fred’s attempt to get his brother to buck up the courage and ask Angelina for himself. 

  George remembers it vividly. “Just ask her. What’s the worst she’ll say? No? Fine, if you won’t do it, I will.”

  When Fred had gotten Ange’s attention, George had no idea what to expect. They were usually well in tune with each other, and George could anticipate Fred’s moves, but when his brother had asked Angelina himself, it took George by surprise.

  “We were getting down to the wire, weren’t we?” Angelina interrupts George’s thoughts. “No one else had asked me, so I figured it was better to go with one twin than none at all.”

  George chooses the wrong moment to polish off the last of his chips. The fried potato catches in his throat, and he coughs it up, all while reaching for the last dredges of his Butterbeer to clear things out.

  Did she just say it was better to go with one twin than none at all? But then that would mean… 

  “Ange, don’t tell me you were waiting for me to ask you.”

  She shrugs and averts her eyes from his gaze. “I mean, I wouldn’t have been disappointed if you’d asked, let’s put it that way.”

  After this revelation, George burst into laughter. To anyone else in the near vicinity, it probably sounded like he should be admitted to the Janus Thickney Ward. He hasn’t laughed this hard since he and Fred were able to pull off a prank on Muriel shortly after arriving at her Manor at the end of March.

  “You—Fred—I—me—” He can’t seem to formulate a coherent string of thoughts until Angelina goes from amused to offended.

  “Honestly, George, I didn’t realize it was that funny. Forget I said anything.” She checks her watch and gathers her bag. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. It’s getting late, and clearly the thought of the two of us together appalls—”

  She’s in the process of standing up when George sobers from the onslaught of irony and reaches out to grab her wrist.

  “Ange, wait. I’m not laughing at that. Just—just give me a chance to explain, yeah?” He pulls her into the bench beside him, where she lands on her bottom harder than she needed to as she lets out a loud huff of indignation.

  “Fred never intended to go with you when he asked.”

  “Excuse me?” Her eyebrows have raised so high on her face that George is surprised they haven’t gotten lost in her braids.

  “No, what I mean is, he’d been pestering me to ask you since the ball was announced. He knew I had a thing for you—obviously—and was being supportive.”

  It felt weird for George to admit that he fancied Angelina in school now, after so many years of keeping it close to his chest. Fred and Lee were the only two who ever knew.

  “So, what are you trying to say, then?”

  “When Fred asked you...I was shocked, too. I didn’t realize he’d already devised a plan that I didn’t cotton on to right away.”

  The look on Angelina’s face transformed from defensive to shock to comprehension, all in the span of a few seconds. “Don’t tell me…”

  “Being an identical twin has—er, had—its benefits.”

  “So.. are you trying to tell me that I didn’t go to the ball with Fred?”

  “Nope.”

  “And at the end of the night, when I kissed Fred in an attempt to make you jealous, I was actually kissing you all along?”

  “Sorry if it was disappointing.” The wisecrack escapes George’s lips before he can stop it.

  Half of him is expecting Angelina to slap him for the ‘switcheroo’ that he and Fred pulled, and in fairness, they deserved it. What if Ange actually had fancied Fred, and they’d pulled one over on her?

  But to his surprise, Angelina does the opposite. She leans in and kisses George right then and there. The same shock he felt when holding her hand earlier ignites within him once more as he lets his body take control. He allows himself to get lost in the feel of her lips, realizing that it’s the first time he’s truly felt like himself since Fred’s passing. He even dares to let himself think he’s found happiness again.

  Eventually, George pulls away as his lungs begin to burn from the lack of oxygen. They remain close, foreheads touching as he offers a weak smile. 

  “Y’know, I was going to tell you it was me at the end of the night, but how could I when I thought I was going to break your heart when you thought you’d kissed Fred?”

  “You’re insufferable, you know that?” 

  “Yeah, but you can’t argue with sixteen-year-old George’s logic, can you?”

  Ange rolls her eyes and leans back. George misses the contact as soon as it’s gone.

  “What do you say we get out of here?” Ange raises her eyebrows in question as if tempting him to follow when she scoots out from the bench a second time.

  George pulls enough money to cover their meals out of his wallet and leaves it on the table before scooching out behind her. He pays no mind to the remaining customers as he pulls Angelina back into him and whispers in her ear,

  “I’d say we’ve wasted five years of pointless pining to wait any longer.”