#just that the original copy is tear-out instead of the copy page

[infizero]

Why Ambrosius and Ballister’s Relationship Feels So Different in the Movie (Nimona)

As someone who read Nimona countless times growing up, I am very familiar with the story and these characters. Which is why when I watched the movie, I was struck by how different Ambrosius and Ballister felt. They seemed like totally different and unfamiliar characters to me, and it didn’t have anything to do with their designs.

After rereading the original Nimona graphic novel recently, I’ve come to the conclusion that the main reason they feel like completely different characters in the movie comes down to one thing: the removal of the joust.

When I watched the movie, I was surprised by the fact that they changed the circumstances that drove these two apart. But it didn’t hit me just how much this one event shapes both of their characters and their relationship to each other until I reread the book. 

The joust is CRUCIAL to their dynamic. It pervades every interaction they have with each other, they bring it up constantly, it is literally the crux of their collective storyline. We learn about it on PAGE 5 of the whole book, and their big heart-to-heart when Ballister is captured near the climax of the story is based around Ambrosius finally admitting the truth about what happened. Honestly I’d say that him finally coming to terms with what he did and apologizing for it is probably what allowed these two to finally find peace together by the end of the book.

We get something similar to it in the movie. Ambrosius still is responsible for Ballister losing his arm, but it is under WILDLY different circumstances. So I want to talk about how the joust affects them in the book, and then explain why the movie’s version of events, while similar on the surface, has a completely different effect on everything. So let’s get into it!

(All images of the book are via pictures of my own physical copy btw, so apologies if they’re not the best quality.)

(Also I want to make it clear that I don’t hate the movie nor its adaptation of these two. I do personally greatly prefer the book, but this post is not here to tear down the movie and exclaim that the book was way better. I just find it interesting how changing one event can have huge ripple effects!)

Part 1: The Graphic Novel (AKA: “My Boyfriend Shot Off My Arm Because of His Wild Ambition!”)

Like I said before, we learn about the joust very early on; Chapter 2, page 5. It is told to us first via Ballister’s perspective. Nimona asks if she can kill Ambrosius while they’re making evil plans, and Ballister says no -- if anyone is going to kill Ambrosius, it’s going to be him. We then get a flashback to the joust itself.

Ballister explains how they were friends and how the joust was the first time they had been pitted against each other. Ballister won fair and square, but in his words:

BALLISTER: “but Ambrosius hates to lose.”

BALLISTER: “He always claimed it was an accident. No one could prove otherwise.”

BALLISTER: “Turns out the Institution had no use for a one-armed hero. I took the only other viable option.”

Ambrosius used a weaponized lance and blasted Ballister’s arm off. After the incident, Ballister was rejected by the Institution, and became a villain instead of the hero he had originally set out to be.

In Chapter 3 we see Ambrosius appear for the first time, and he and Ballister have a very relaxed sort of cartoon hero-villain dynamic going on. There’s definitely real animosity between them, but they don’t hesitate to simply talk casually to each other or help each other when things go south. It’s all pretty lighthearted and lowkey. 

They fight briefly, but after Nimona triggers the building they’re in to self-destruct, Ambrosius doesn’t hesitate to help Ballister escape and Ballister doesn’t hesitate to accept his help. Ambrosius even tries to reassure him that Nimona will be fine. After they make it out, with Nimona presumed dead, Ambrosius puts a hand on his shoulder and tells him to go before more guards show up. They may be “arch-nemesises”, but they certainly don’t act like it.

AMBROSIUS: “Haven’t you missed our fights? We haven’t done this since you tried to clone the king’s daughter!”

BALLISTER: “Ambrosius, I really don’t have time for this.”

AMBROSIUS: “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

BALLISTER: “You’re an idiot.”

By the way, I’m not going to be doing a full breakdown of every single scene with them, don’t worry. I just think that their first interaction shows off their dynamic very well. This is presumably how they’ve been with each other since the incident, as it’s made clear both here and throughout the book that they’ve both been doing this for a while at this point. They have a very established dynamic, which is important as that is one of the big differences between the book and the movie. (I’ll get into that more later.)

Whenever these two interact throughout the book, it’s clear that they have very different opinions on the incident that drove them apart and how their relationship functions now.

Ambrosius tries to act like it was simply an accident and that it doesn’t matter. Ballister became a villain of his own volition, and now they are arch-nemesises who have to fight because that’s their job -- though he doesn’t exactly act like he hates Ballister. 

Meanwhile Ballister saw it as a deep betrayal, and while he definitely still cares deeply about Ambrosius, he cannot get over the incident as easily as Ambrosius can.

Their respective feelings about what happened are shown perfectly in the scene in Chapter 7 where Ambrosius invites Ballister to meet with him in secret. Ambrosius tells him that the Institution has ordered him to kill Nimona and begs him to send her away, both so he doesn’t have to kill her and so things can go back to “normal.” Ballister then says that Ambrosius gave up normal at the joust.

AMBROSIUS: “I can’t believe you’re still hung up about that. It was a long time ago, you know.”

AMBROSIUS: “Besides, it was an ACCIDENT.”

BALLISTER: “I bet you’ve said that so many times you’ve started to actually believe it.”

Ambrosius insists it was an accident, and Ballister claims that he blasted off his arm because he couldn’t stand that Ballister was better than him. This sets Ambrosius off and they begin to argue.

AMBROSIUS: “You can’t blame me for how your life turned out! You made the choice to turn evil!”

BALLISTER: “Choice? I never had a choice! The Institution needed a villain. That lot fell to me. I never chose it.”

BALLISTER “And it could just as easily have been you, had that “accident” happened differently!”

AMBROSIUS: “Oh please! Do you really believe that?”

AMBROSIUS: “You never had it in you to be a hero! Everyone always knew that you were going to be the one to go bad!”

Ambrosius has convinced himself that Ballister chose to become evil, and that he isn’t responsible for what happened because it was an accident. We later learn that it wasn’t an accident though, which means that this really is him just making excuses so he doesn’t have to accept responsibility.

Ballister brings up the idea of Ambrosius becoming like him again after they fight, in one of if not my favorite scene between them in the whole book:

AMBROSIUS: “uugghh”

BALLISTER: “What if I cut off your arm right now?”

BALLISTER: “Then you’d see how fast the Institution would cast you aside. Just like they did me.”

AMBROSIUS: “You wouldn’t.”

BALLISTER: “No, I wouldn’t.”

BALLISTER: “And I’m the villain.”

BALLISTER: “What do you suppose that says about you?”

Ballister and Ambrosius are both very complicated individuals, and I think they lose a lot of their moral grayness in the movie. (Which I will get to later.) 

Ambrosius is the “hero”, but it was his ambition that drove him to blast Ballister’s arm off, and he’s never accepted responsibility for it, instead trying to convince himself that Ballister turned out this way because of his own actions. But he doesn’t disagree here that the Institution would throw him out if he were to lose his own arm, which I think is very telling. He knows deep down that he is not a good person, and he is not working for good people. But he doesn’t want to admit it.

Ballister is the “villain”, but in many ways he is better than Ambrosius. He abides by his own rules of never killing unless it’s necessary, and goes out of his way throughout the book to make sure that as few people are harmed as possible. He knows that the Institution is corrupt, because he was one of the people it failed. And he works to try and bring it down. 

Ambrosius cannot accept what happened, and because of that they aren’t able to get anywhere. They both know it wasn’t an accident. But because Ambrosius cannot admit it, they are stuck like this.

It’s a fascinating part of Ambrosius’ character that though he is adamant about Ballister being the one to destroy himself, he still cares about him. Much more openly than Ballister does in return, in fact. Ambrosius consistently does whatever he can to avoid having to kill him and always seems to have his wellbeing in mind. While he initially refused to kill Nimona, revolted at the idea that he should be ordered to kill “a little girl”, he eventually agrees to do so, but only under the condition that Ballister would be spared.

THE DIRECTOR: “Your motivations are quite transparent. I KNOW what the nature of your relationship was. I made it clear at the time that I disapproved. If your fixation on him has impeded your ability to do your job, then he truly has outlived his usefulness.”

THE DIRECTOR: “We’ll find you a new nemesis. Perhaps you will be more competent without Blackheart as a distraction.”

AMBROSIUS: “I won’t kill him. If you demand I kill the girl, I’ll do it - but I won’t kill him.”

Despite him and Ballister’s separation being his fault, he is the one who wishes most for things to go back to the way they were.  And this is likely why he refuses to accept responsibility about the joust. If it were truly an accident, then there shouldn’t be anything preventing them from continuing to be together. By painting it as an accident, Ballister becomes the villain for refusing to move on and let things go back to the way they were, not Ambrosius.

But finally, after Nimona disappears and Ballister lets himself be captured, we get probably the most important scene between these two. Ambrosius has been demoted due to his failure to kill Nimona, and is now forced to guard Ballister’s cell. Ambrosius is at his lowest that he’s been throughout the story, disgraced and discarded by the Institution who he had always been so loyal to.

It’s notable that Ambrosius says here that they both know Ballister is not evil, since he has been paddling that idea this whole time that Ballister made the choice to turn evil. By admitting that he is not, it shows that he is both starting to turn against the Institution, and starting to be more honest about what really happened.

Naturally, after Ambrosius wonders how things ended up like this and reminisces on when they were together, Ballister once again brings up the joust. And finally...

AMBROSIUS: “I- I never wanted to hurt you. I- I didn’t- It was-”

BALLISTER: “Don’t you dare try to tell me again that it was an accident.”

AMBROSIUS: “It wasn’t.”

...he admits the truth.

Ambrosius shares his side of the story, letting both us and Ballister in on what really happened that day. It wasn’t fully his fault -- the Director had called him into her office the night before the joust and told him that he had promise, that he was her choice out of the two, but that he had to prove himself against Ballister or that opportunity would go away.

On the day of the joust, Ambrosius received a weaponized lance instead of his regular one, which he instantly noticed. He asked what the Director expected him to do with it, and was told that she expected him to win.

To Ambrosius’ credit, he had no intention of using it, as he was confident that he would win. But the weight from the weaponized lance threw his balance off, and he ending up losing. And so...

AMBROSIUS: “I wanted it, more than anything. You never wanted it as much as me. You were just BETTER, without hardly even seeming to try.”

AMBROSIUS: “I don’t even remember- but I must have-”

[...]

AMBROSIUS: “I’m sorry, Ballister. I’m so sorry.”

To be fair, Ambrosius is not entirely to blame here. I doubt he would’ve come up with this idea on his own; he only acted on it because the Director had already given him the weaponized lance, and stressed the night before that the opportunities she dangled in front of him would not be given to him if he did not win. He was manipulated.

But he still made the decision to do it. He could’ve simply not used the lance. But he chose to. It is his fault.

It’s fascinating that the version of events Ambrosius had been swearing by this entire time is the exact opposite of what really happened. He claimed that it was an accident, he didn’t choose to do it, he had no choice, and that it was Ballister’s choice to become evil that caused all of this. But in reality, Ambrosius was the only one who got a choice here. And that choice is why their relationship was destroyed.

Ballister then brings attention to something even more damning:

BALLISTER: “You’ve never said it before.”

AMBROSIUS: “What?”

BALLISTER: “You never said you were sorry.”

AMBROSIUS: “I- didn’t?”

AMBROSIUS: “Oh god.”

I feel like you could interpret this in a lot of different ways, but the way I see it, they probably didn’t see each other much right after the incident. Ambrosius was catapulted into stardom as the kingdom’s beloved knight, and Ballister became a villain. I don’t think they really interacted much until their hero-villain antics started up, so I don’t think Ambrosius really had a chance to apologize. And if he did, he didn’t think to. Regardless of why, I do think it is messed up that he never apologized, and it goes to show just how much this event destroyed the bond they used to have.

From here, there’s not too much, as Plot Stuff starts getting serious around this point. Ambrosius ends up betraying the Institution after they continuously attack Ballister to provoke Nimona, attacking the guards who are holding him. This is when Ambrosius finally chooses Ballister over the Institution, which is great for his character, but there’s not really much more than that to say about it.

He and Ballister plan together to try and save the kingdom, with Ambrosius being adamant that they have to kill Nimona while Ballister refuses to. It’s during this conversation that Ambrosius mentions that he “never did anything good [his] whole life”, which is really sad but also kind of accurate, and it goes to show how he’s finally accepted responsibility for everything he’s done and had a part in up to this point.

Eventually Ballister is able to find a way to nerf her and they split up, with Ambrosius wanting to tell him something in case they don’t see each other again, but Ballister shuts him down.

BALLISTER: “We can’t do this now. Just... just promise me you won’t get yourself killed.”

It’s easy to assume this was something romantic and it likely was, but I imagine Ambrosius could’ve also wanted to say sorry again for everything. Perhaps it would’ve been a mix of both.

Regardless, they split up and climax stuff happens: Ambrosius attempts to kill Nimona but gets seriously injured, Ballister tries to reason with Nimona, etc. etc. Eventually at the very end, we see that these two have made peace and are together again, living on after everything. And that’s these two in the book!

Whew. I know that was a lot, but don’t worry. I won’t be going into as much detail about the movie’s version of events, as Ambrosius and Ballister have a much more cut-and-dry dynamic there than in the book. Their relationship in the original is very complex, so I wanted to make sure I covered all of those little nuances.

The joust is what defines their relationship and a lot of their respective characters; it is unimaginably important. Ballister became a villain because he lost his arm and was cast aside by the Institution. Ambrosius became the kingdom’s hero because he took Ballister out of the picture. They are unable to be around each other normally for very long because of their divided views of what happened. It is only after Ambrosius finally faces the truth that they are able to find peace together once more.

All of this is to say that it’s extremely hard to imagine what their relationship would be like in the graphic novel had the joust not happened the way it did. Which brings us to...

Part 2: The Movie (AKA: “My Boyfriend Sliced Off My Arm Because I Literally Killed Someone!”)

Before we start, I want to again stress that I am not trying to argue that any changes made here are inherently inferior. I am merely pointing out the differences between the book and the movie that contribute to the overall dissonance I and many others have felt when it comes to these two across versions.

Right off the bat, we are greeted with the movie’s version of Ambrosius and Ballister’s backstory. Like was implied in the book, they appear to be together (or something along those lines) which is great to actually see. But it quickly becomes clear that the events here are far different.

Instead of a joust, it is a knighting ceremony. There is no competition between Ballister and Ambrosius here. Ambrosius is knighted and cheered for, and then it is Ballister’s turn. He is knighted and everyone is silent before breaking into cheers as well. And then...

...his sword suddenly turns into a cannon and kills the queen. And in retaliation...

...Ambrosius chops his arm off.

Now if you’ve listened to ANYTHING I’ve said so far, this should immediately set off alarm bells. Because this one little difference changes everything about these two’s dynamic.

In the book, Ambrosius shot off Ballister’s arm in order to win his position. It was an entirely selfish and evil action spurred on only by his uncontrollable want to be the winner.

But here, Ambrosius is debatably justified in his response. Sure, he didn’t have to be as drastic as slicing his whole arm off (and I know there’s symbolism there with how the kingdom has taught people to get rid of problems), but Ballister -- to him -- literally just shot the queen. The queen who Ambrosius has sworn to protect. It is completely reasonable for him to respond in this way. And that’s a huge difference.

By changing this, we already have a completely different situation. Ambrosius here didn’t particularly want to cut Ballister’s arm off, it was a reflex, a response to a sudden danger. (Not saying he wanted to in the book, but there he made the deliberate decision to do so. In the movie it seems much more like an actual accident -- an overreaction that he immediately regrets and, as we’ll see, continues to regret.) And there was justification for it. There was no justification for it in the book. 

Instead of an Ambrosius whose ambition caused him to commit an evil act of betrayal against the man he was closest to, we now have an Ambrosius who, in the heat of the moment, overreacted like he was trained to after Ballister seemingly betrayed him. We’ll see over the course of the movie how this affects things, but that’s not the only major change here.

As we figure out shortly afterward, the movie makes a huge change when it comes to how the story functions, and that’s the timeline of events. In the book, the joust and the subsequent fallout between Ballister and Ambrosius happened years ago. We don’t know how long, but it’s clearly been a while. Enough time has passed where they are fully settled into their roles as hero and villain, and they look significantly younger in the flashbacks as well.

Like previously stated, book Ballister has been a villain for a while. He is completely settled into this role and has been making schemes and having fights of the week with Ambrosius for a considerable time. He knows what he’s doing. He has his own way of doing things, and when Nimona inserts herself into his life much of their early dynamic is him teaching her how he does things. In the book, Ballister is the teacher, Nimona is the student.

But in the movie, this incident just happened. It's unclear how exactly long it's been, but judging from Ballister's arm being created and his wounds healing it's probably been around a month.

Regardless of exactly how long it's been, the point is that these events are still very fresh. Ballister seemingly has just been laying low, not villain-ing it up, and he and Ambrosius haven't seen each other since the knighting ceremony. This changes literally everything about Ballister’s character. This post is specifically about Ambrosius and Ballister’s dynamic and not a Ballister character analysis so I’ll try to keep it brief, but movie Ballister seriously could not be more different from the book.

Compare this to movie Ballister, who I’m pretty sure never knows what he’s doing ever, at any point. He was training to be a knight. He has seemingly never once questioned the Institution. Now he has suddenly lost his arm and been thrust out into the unknown of being treated as a villain, and he has no idea how to handle it. Then Nimona shows up, tells him “hey, the Institution sucks”, and eventually he ends up believing so as well. In the movie, Nimona is the teacher, Ballister is the student.

Book Ballister actively resents the Institution and has no doubts that what they did to him is wrong. He has been plotting their downfall for a while. Nimona, on the other hand, seems to be out of the loop when it comes to the Institution and seemingly only starts hating them after she finds out how they threw Ballister out. Again, I’d just like to stress how completely and totally opposite their dynamic in the movie is compared to this.

There’s also Ballister being a scientist and being much more jaded in the book, but that’s not really important for the purposes of this post. So alas, I shall move on.

This different timeframe greatly impacts Ambrosius and Ballister’s dynamic, and obviously it would. There is a huge difference between a falling-out that happened years ago and you’re both still bitter about, and a falling-out that happened very recently. This, along with the different course of events resulting in said falling-out, is what causes their dynamic to feel so alien.

Also while talking about their early interactions in the movie, I’d just like to point out that while here Nimona is the one to assume Ambrosius is Ballister’s arch-nemesis and call him such, which Ballister doesn’t agree with, they were actually arch-nemeses in the book. Just something I noticed.

Something else I find interesting is later on, Ballister seems to be almost in disbelief about Ambrosius cutting off his arm and makes excuses for him.

BALLISTER: “He didn’t cut off my arm. He disarmed a weapon.”

BALLISTER: “It’s how we were trained.”

(Side note, but I wonder if book Ballister ever felt this way right after the joust? Did he try to convince himself it was an accident too, once upon a time? Did he try to make excuses?)

And to be fair, he is sort of right. Like I said before, Ambrosius’ reaction to Ballister seemingly killing the queen was debatably justified. While we’re obviously supposed to side with Nimona here and agree that Ballister should be more upset at Ambrosius for what he did, the movie definitely paints Ambrosius as more sympathetic overall. We see him freaking out internally about cutting off Ballister’s arm, and there is a lot of emphasis placed on how he and the others were trained by the Institution, inviting the audience to place more of the blame on the system that taught Ambrosius to act this way rather than him as a person.

And again, I’m not saying this is a bad thing! I love a good "taking down a corrupt system” story, and with the different circumstances of the movie it definitely makes more sense to play it this way. But in comparison to the book, Ambrosius is much easier to sympathize with. His character is changed from a very morally gray person who did something horrible and won’t admit it, to a pretty okay person who did something horrible and wholly accepts and bemoans that fact. He’s almost the opposite of what he was in the book.

So we have an Ambrosius who accepts what he did to Ballister and feels awful about it, and a Ballister who has no idea what he’s doing and is basically just being dragged around by Nimona. With both of them being basically the complete opposite of how they were in the book, is it any wonder that their relationship with each other feels so different when they themselves are so different?

Also, once again, the circumstances are very different. There is no Queen murder plot in the book, nor is their any attempt to clear Ballister’s name. A significantly different setting makes a difference too.

I don’t see a need to go into further detail about specific scenes in the movie as I think I’ve made my point clear. But going back to the movie’s lack of Ambrosius and Ballister’s already established hero-villain dynamic, I think these differences are made quite apparent just contrasting how they talk to each other. I mean, just compare these two scenes:

AMBROSIUS: “What? You’re gonna kill me now too?”

BALLISTER: “You believe that?”

BALLISTER: “Then you never knew me at all.”

AMBROSIUS: “uugghh”

BALLISTER: “What if I cut off your arm right now?”

BALLISTER: “Then you’d see how fast the Institution would cast you aside. Just like they did me.”

AMBROSIUS: “You wouldn’t.”

BALLISTER: “No, I wouldn’t.”

BALLISTER: “And I’m the villain.”

BALLISTER: “What do you suppose that says about you?”

Their relationship in the movie is much softer and healthier than it was in the book. Their dialogue in the movie tends to lean much more towards tried-and-true “friendship betrayal” stuff; the wound of Ballister’s “betrayal” may be fresher, but it’s clear both of them love each other far more than they resent each other. In the book, it is the opposite. The movie could NEVER have the bar fight scene. It’s too ugly and bitter to fit these softer versions of Ambrosius and Ballister.

Part 3: Conclusion

So, that was a lot. I hope it’s a little clearer now how big the differences are between these two’s dynamic in the book and the movie! Especially if you’re someone who is only familiar with one or the other. While I prefer the book due to me tending to prefer more complex and messy relationship dynamics, I totally understand the appeal of the more loving and healthy relationship Ambrosius and Ballister have in the movie.

To summarize, here are some of the main takeaways:

Ambrosius causing Ballister to lose his arm is completely unjustified in the book and happens due to Ambrosius’ wild ambition, while in the movie it is a debatably justified reflexive action in response to an active threat.

Ambrosius overall is portrayed as much more sympathetic in the movie, with the system itself being more to blame for what happened.

In the book, the main thing keeping them apart was Ambrosius’ refusal to take responsibility and admit what he did. In the movie, it’s a misunderstanding about Ballister seemingly turning evil.

In the book, Ambrosius and Ballister have a very established hero-villain dynamic with the joust having happened years ago. In the movie the “betrayal” is still very fresh, which leads to very different interactions between the two.

And that’s about it! Thank you for reading this very long post. And if you haven’t read the original graphic novel or watched the movie, go do that!!! Much love to ND Stevenson and the rest of the people who made this story come to life.

Let me know your thoughts in the tags or the replies! Which version do you prefer? Are there any other factors you feel have a significant role in why their relationship feels so different? Or do you think I’m totally wrong about this and they feel basically the same to you?

Either way, thanks again for reading and goodbye!

[epitomereally]

Renegade Winter Exchange 2022, part 1/2: Ship of Theseus by GallaPlacidia for @queercore-curriculum

When Harry gets amnesia and forgets he and Draco were ever married, he refuses treatment to remember.

You can find an archive of Galla’s work here hosted by the wonderful @geesenoises

Thoughts, details, and description behind the cut. The other book I bound for the exchange here.

I was incredibly honoured, excited, and intimidated to be matched with @queercore-curriculum for the Renegade winter exchange. They were one of the original impetuses for me to begin bookbinding — their gorgeous longstitch binds of some incredible Drarry fics have been so inspiring & their bookshelf photos make me want to cry with envy. @queercore-curriculum makes graceful and restrained binds, using color choice and stitching patterns carry the weight of the fic, instead of heavily-illustrated covers. I wanted to bind this fic to fit in with the other books on their shelf.

The first fic I bound them was GallaPlacidia’s Ship of Theseus. This is a gorgeous fic about forgiveness and falling in love and building a home together. One of the central motifs of the story is the garden that Draco grew at their shared cottage, and specifically the calla lilies in it. I designed a stitching pattern that evokes a more organic, floral shape than the criss-cross pattern I’ve tried before, and used white, buttercup, and emerald green thread stitched through a spine of dark grey bookcloth. I wanted the bind to be hopeful, to convey that spring was coming through the winter, just like in the fic. I then printed Gustav Klimt’s Bauerngarten (1907), which is in the public domain here, as joyful endpapers. 

The floral motif carries through the typeset: California poppies as my bindery logo, a lily as the ornament to start the fic, and a small flower ornament as scene dividers, but I had to diverge for the title page. In the fic, when Harry proposes:

“I changed it,” said Harry. Draco brought it closer to his face, and saw that in the gold there were fine engravings. A ship in a full sail, a ship in a state of decay, a ship that had been rebuilt, slightly different. A repeating cycle.

I had to try to illustrate this because, really, I was tearing up when I got to that line. I’m not 100% happy with the final result (would probably rotate it to have a fully-built ship at the ‘top’ of the circle to make it more legible), but I am happy to include this part of the story on the title spread.

Title font: Mantinia

Body text: Dante

Ornaments: Bodoni Ornaments

Endpapers: Gustav Klimt’s Bauerngarten (1907)

Bookcloth: Duo bookcloth in Birch (no longer available)

Some notes on process: I always make a ‘test book’ that I keep before sending out a copy to someone else—this is to make sure everything works well & looks good together (which you can see in the photos). Happy to answer any questions about process improvements between test & final copy, or chat about this stitching pattern!

This is also my first time making a quarto letter book. I don’t actually love the size; the page is a bit square for me. Next time for a shorter fic, I’m going to experiment with a quarto legal book or A6 size.

[mikomikumi]

I wrote m o r e

And this time there's angst :O

If you guys like enough I may or may not have a second part ;)

TW; death, gore, sad :(

“Yes, my husband Francis is out at the moment”, you respond. The doorman soon hung up the phone. It was an odd feeling, being the one receiving the verification call instead of the one giving it. You were excited to see Francis come home. The timer for dinner was ringing in the kitchen. Placing your book down, you hurry over and take your meal out of the oven. Today’s dinner was chicken pot pie, one of Francises favourite dishes. Now being your loving husband, if you put an apple slice on the table he’d eat it and act like it was a five-star meal, but in your eyes, he deserved better than that.

The kitchen was filled with the aroma of several spices, all good scents. Once the table had been properly set, you checked the dessert in the fridge. It was, of course, vanilla ice cream. With Francis bringing home lots of extra milk after work, it would be wasteful not to. Besides, if that wouldn’t satisfy your sweet tooth, you had other ideas~

Under your outfit was a beautiful lingerie set Francis bought you. It was a black set consisting of a see-through bra, easy-to-remove underwear, a garter belt and nylon stockings. This was your first time getting to wear the cheeky garment. You rolled up your dress skirt to fix your stockings in place when you heard the door open and close.

“Honey? Is that you?”, you shouted from the kitchen. There was no word back, but a few footsteps could be heard from behind you.

“Francis?”

——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-—

The truck came to a halt on the side of the road. The final resting place for the day. Francis hopped out swiftly, fumbling to get his entry request and ID. He was looking forward to his weekend off with you. The company he works for had recently hired more milkmen, so that meant he was given a few days off to spend time with you. Approaching the office, something is off. The usual doorman Henry was gone.

Francis was worried and confused at the absence. He looked into the window to see a small note: “On break, be back soon”. From knowing of your experience, he knows this is against protocol. Another concerning part was that the door to the complex had been left open. Francis was too eager to see you. “I’m back, call my apartment when you get back. -Francis Mosses”. He scribbled a note onto a pad he used for work, tearing out the page and slipping it under the window.

——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-—

The elevator dings, and outruns the excited milkman. Your shared apartment was just around the corner. Francis reached the door, hearing what he assumed were your movements around the kitchen. Not wasting any more time, he flings open the door. “Y/NNN! I’m back!”, he shuts the door behind him and heads into the kitchen. He closes his eyes as he takes in the scent of the chicken pot pie. When he opens his eyes, his entire demeanour drops.

He spotted your figure. You were lying on the floor. Your arms and legs were still, your eyes wide open, and your head had a bruise. Next to your torso kneeled…himself?

No…it wasn’t himself…it was something he feared. The doppelgänger rose its head, lips covered in blood. Its chin and under were drenched in your blood. Francis stood in shock as he stared at your stomach, or rather, lack of it. The doppelgänger smirked and began to stand. It looked Francis in the eyes smugly as it wiped your blood from its face. “You know…”, it taunted. Francises fists grew tight. They clenched as the copy of him walked closer.

“Your kind often has phrases. Ones that I never originally understood. What was that one? Oh yes. The way to a person's heart is through their stomach.”.

The doppelgänger stopped in its tracks, right in front of Francis. The milkman was ready to kill him.

“Well, they’re not wrong, but I found going through the ribs to be a lot easier.”.

That’s it, Francis had enough.

He let out a raged yell and swung at the duplicate of himself, hitting him in the side of the head. The scodoppelgänger, now slightly dazed, got angry. It lunged back sloppily. Francis easily dodged. The duplicate looked at him and thought as Francis began to run towards him, ready to pounce.

“Ya know what? This isn’t even worth the effort anymore”. The doppelgänger spoke. He picked up a chair and flung it with ease at the milkman. It Took out his legs, making him fall. “You…fucking…coward…”, Francis gritted through his teeth, standing up. The doppelgänger just scoffed as he walked out the door. Just as it was about to turn the doorknob, the D.D.D. burst in.

“D.D.D, ON THE GROUND NOW DOPPELGÄNGER”. The man in the hazmat suit yelled. He held what looked like a mix between a smoke gun and a shotgun. The doppel bared its teeth and was about to pounce on the man. The D.D.D. shot the weapon, and the Doppel disintegrated. Francis felt disturbed watching a version of himself be melted in front of him.

“Sir, are you alright?”, the D.D.D. asked. “…”, Francis couldn't speak. He couldn't believe that the doorman would be so careless to let a doppel in. His eyes shot open. “Y/N!” Francis screamed. He sprinted towards your limp body. Your lifeless, motionless body. Tears began to flood silently out his eyes. He kneeled down to the same place that the doppel had been eating from you, full of sorrow, guilt, and rage. The D.D.D. behind him stood in silence.

Francis could only look in pain. His sobs started to become audible. His heavy sighs were noticeable as he leaned down and pressed his head towards yours.

“She…she’s beautiful…isn’t she?”, Francis finally spoke. “…yes…” the D.D.D. was ready to burst into tears looking at him. He had called emergency services to come to the building. All he was able to do was wait with the now-bereaved man and do his best to comfort him.

“We…were planning to leave…”. The milkman stuttered. “We…we were gonna leave this place…we…were going to go somewhere safer…maybe even s-start a family” Francis broke down, holding your face as he painfully sobbed.

Help finally arrived. Your body was lifted onto a stretcher and taken away. The D.D.D. sat Francis in a chair and did his best to comfort him.

[burnthoneydrops]

What Time Has Done (Part XIII) Benedict Bridgerton x Original Character Series

Synopsis: Fed up with Emmeline's disappearance, Benedict takes finding out the truth into his own hands

Requested: no

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2601

A/N: Hi! Here's the next part of What Time Has Done! Let me know what you think and if you're enjoying it or not haha

Emmeline

The words on the newest Whistledown sheet shake on the page as my hands will not cease their movement. I scan the words over and over again to make sure I am reading her correctly, and every time my heart drops more and more. How on earth did she know? I suppose I should have expected it to come out eventually but I was holding out some hope that the mysterious woman would have been deaf ears for the news to fall on. What an idiot am I. There is frantic knocking at my door and answering it is the last thing I wish to do, but depending on who the person on the other side is, they might have half a mind to barge in anyway. 

“Come in!” I call, noticing how my voice trembles as I do so. 

“Em,” the person sighs. It is Graham. I turn to him and my eyes cannot hold back the well of tears anymore. He rushes to my side and I drop the Whistledown pamphlet, causing a light whooshing sound as it reaches the carpeted floor. His arms are around me in a matter of seconds, and I throw my hands over his shoulders as another wave of tears force their way out. 

“What are we to do?” I ask in between recovery breaths. 

“I do not know, sister, but that is not for you to be worrying about right now,” Graham tries, but the insecurity in his tone does nothing to aid my current state. 

“I suppose I should have known our lie was not going to last forever,” I shudder, sitting down on the bed. 

“Now now, it is not your fault-”

“Will everyone stop telling me that! First Papa, then Andrew, now you! Just because you say something is so, does not mean it does not feel like it. You all tell me this ordeal is not my fault and yet I am the one who insisted on going to University. I am the one who caused this large amount of bills! It is! It is my fault!” I cry, putting my head in my hands once I am finished. 

Graham is stunned, not sure what to say for a moment before he sits down next to me, choosing to say nothing at all. Instead, he places a comforting hand on my back and allows me the space to let my frustration out. 

Benedict

“Has Benedict seen this?” Eloise asks Colin, the latest copy of Whistledown in hand. 

“I do not believe so, why?” Colin asks. Eloise shoves the gossip sheet in Colin’s hands. “Oh, dear Lord,” Colin sighs as he reads the page, realising what has his younger sister so worried. 

“Dear Lord indeed,” Eloise nods, grabbing the copy back and reading over it again. “Is this really why her entire family has been hiding away?” Colin refrains from speaking, but the look on his face shows that he knows something. “What? What is it?” Eloise looks him in the eyes, searching for an answer. “You know something! Tell me what it is!”

“Not so loud!” Colin grabs Eloise’s arm and drags her out to the hallway. “The gossip sheet is unfortunately true,” he looks down at it before looking back at Eloise. 

“You knew? For how long?” Eloise questions. 

“Not long, but Anthony figured it out before I did”.

“Brother will not be happy when he finds out about this,” Eloise says worriedly. 

“Finds out about what?” Benedict, in his perfect timing, had emerged from another room and now stands behind the pair. 

“Nothing!” Eloise proclaims as she turns around to hide the sheet behind her back and face Benedict. 

“What have you got?” Benedict gives her a look with a tilt of his head and a small smile. He reaches behind her to grab it, but she moves her hands above her head. As if she forgot for a second that Benedict is in fact taller than her, she leaves him enough space to grab it with his free hand and he laughs. As he begins to read, Colin and Eloise share a worried glance. 

He looks up at the two of them with a hardened expression. “Is this true?” Neither of them respond, which is enough of an answer for him. 

“Did either of you know about this?” Benedict looks between the two of them quickly, hoping one of them will answer him. “Say something!” he cries when neither of them do. 

“What is all this noise about?” Lady Bridgerton enters the hallway from the drawing room. 

“Mama, did you know about this?” Benedict throws up the gossip column. 

“What does it say dearest?” Lady Bridgerton grabs the sheet from him, leaving the three children in front of her to wait anxiously as she glances over the page. “Oh no,” she frowns, gathering the reason for the upset. “I can guarantee you I knew nothing about this”.

“I knew,” Colin grabs everyone’s attention, stepping forward with a guilty look on his face. 

“You knew? And you did not tell me?” 

“Anthony didn’t think it wise, brother, truly I-” “Anthony knew as well?!”

“We were waiting until we could figure out a good time to tell you!” 

Benedict does not respond, instead choosing to march down the hallway to the main stairs, running down those as he calls for a carriage. The horsemen cannot move fast enough as Benedict’s foot taps incessantly on the pavement outside of the Bridgerton residence. His mind races with a million questions about the predicament ahead of him, but he is more acutely hoping that Emmeline is alright. It does not miss him that a drink might help the anxieties of the current moment, but he thinks better of it. The carriage ride is all too long and he wonders if it would have been faster for him to arrive on foot. Benedict pounds on the door of the Castillon family, hoping for the love of God that someone will answer him. 

A butler answers the door and Benedict shoves in through the door and stands to face him on the other side. “Please, tell me where I may find Miss Castillon,” he sighs. 

“I’m afraid she is unavailable at the minute,” the butler looks at him with a hard expression. 

“Tell her it is urgent, please!” he begs. The butler does not budge, and Benedict groans in frustration. “Fine! I’ll find her myself. Miss Castillon!” He calls as he starts to wander through the house. 

Emmeline 

“Miss Castillon!” I hear Benedict calling from somewhere in the house. It couldn’t be. “Miss Castillon!” he calls again. 

“I’ll tell him to leave,” Graham stands up. 

“No, no,” I stop him. 

“What would you like me to do, sister?” 

I pause. “I do not know,” I frown, sitting back down on the bed. 

“Miss Castillon please!” Benedict calls again, his voice closer this time though. 

“I will speak to him, you stay here,” Graham turns out the door before I can even attempt to stop him again. There are hushed voices down the hall and I start to pace, wondering what they are discussing without me. After a few moments, a knock resonates from the other side of my door. 

“Sister?” Graham calls before opening the door and walking back over to me. “I believe you should talk to him”. 

“I do not know what to say, Graham”.

“Then tell him the truth,” he looks at me, grabbing my hands in his and giving me a small smile. 

“I cannot,” I frown, shaking my head. 

“You can,” he nods. 

I stay silent for a few moments before letting go of Graham’s hands. He tells me he’ll be right here, waiting in case I need anything, and I nod, walking toward the door. Benedict stands in the hallway and I turn to face him as I step out of the doorway. He catches my eye and his brows furrow in worry, but there is some sense of relief present as well. I do not know what to say, and it feels like we stare at each other for eternity, neither of us sure how to proceed. 

“Miss Castillon-”

“Emmeline, please. If you are to try and comfort me, I do not need the formalities,” I laugh lightly, trying not to look directly at him. 

“Alright, Emmeline. If I could just have a moment of your time. I just want to talk to you”. 

“As you wish”.

“Is Lady Whistledown writing the truth?” Benedict asks, his brows furrowing in concern. 

I pause for a moment, not entirely sure how honest I want to be at this moment. Sharing all this information with him feels like an overstepping of boundaries; that which we have hardly set in the first place. Besides a few meetings prior, what had Benedict and I really shared? Something in the way he is looking at me persuades me to tell the truth, and I nod. 

“Why did you not tell me?”

“And make public my family’s shame?” I question. 

“Surely it would have been better than this!” 

“I did not know that this was going to happen. I do not even know who thinks I am Lady Whistledown to begin with!” I pause, and after a few seconds, continue with, “But yes, my family is currently in a crisis because I decided three years ago that it was a necessity that I go to University which would not have been allowed given my sex but my father had connections and managed to make a deal. He had assured us that those debts had been paid off but evidently they were not and I suppose that the people on the other end had grown tired of waiting for their repayment so they started coming after my father with more urgency”. Benedict looks greatly confused. 

“And that is why you went into hiding?” 

“Mama did not want anything to become obvious after the news had been revealed within

the family, so she thought it best for us all to hide and let the information digest in private so as to not have one of us reveal something to an uncaring member of the ton”. 

“I see,” he pauses, looking as though I had thrown a few stones at him. I suppose with the amount of information I had just relayed to him, it might have been a few stones equivalent. “I could have helped you, Emmeline. I still can-” 

“I do not need your pity Benedict. If your pity is to be disguised as comfort than you may-” 

“Do you truly think so little of me?” This causes me to stop. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“Do you think I travelled unannounced, burst into your house, worried sick about you, simply because I pity you?” 

“You had not explicitly given me a reason not to assume as such,” I state, but I can feel the foundation of my own argument cracking as I do so. 

“You are a truly infuriating woman, you know that, yes?” 

“However could you mean?” I question, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“I did all these things, went out of my way to talk with you at stuffy dances and soirees because I care for you Emmeline. And due to my siblings’ input I have learned that I was not being subtle whatsoever about it so surely you must have noticed it as well?” 

I am not sure how to respond. Is caring different from loving a person? I do not know how one differentiates the two, especially not Benedict, but he seems sincere in his tone and I cannot help but want to believe him. I can hear Graham in my head telling me not to think too long about it, but I cannot bring myself to formulate and answer worthy enough. 

“A friend of mine told me that one is allowed to follow their inspiration, and so here I am. Please, Emmeline, say something”. 

“Perhaps I have been blinded by my own attempts at subtlety to notice that my thoughts and feelings may have been reciprocated,” I finally respond, hoping the message translates how I intended. 

“Thankfully that was not subtle at all,” Benedict says, almost laughing. “This situation will be resolved Emmeline, you have my word”. 

“And how exactly do you plan to do that?” 

“I am not certain yet, but I am sure I can conjure something up. Eight minds must be better than one, yes?” He says, referencing his siblings as well. 

“I imagine they would, yes,” I say with a smile, “but even then, it is not your-” 

“You promised to heed my every word, did you not?” 

“I’m sorry?” “That day in the park, you promised to heed my every word. So do just that and believe that I will see to it that this is all sorted”. 

I fight the urge to tell him once again that I do not need someone to fix my problem for me, but timing does most of the fighting for me, as my mother ascends the stairs. She looks between Benedict, myself, and then back at Benedict before outwardly questioning his presence. He mentions something about how he was just leaving and shoots me a wink as he makes his way down the stairs and back out to his carriage. Graham appears from my doorway, a smile on his face. I am to assume he heard most of the conversation as he looks quite pleased with himself.

“Was there a reason Benedict Bridgerton was just in our hallway unannounced?” Mama questions, slightly angry. 

“He was merely on his way out after our discussion, Mama,” Graham covers, looking at me to get me to nod in agreement. I do so hastily. 

“Indeed, I simply ran into him on my way from the garden”. 

“And why, may I ask, were you coming out of Emmeline’s room?” Mama turns to Graham. 

“Benedict had offered to teach him a thing or two about art and I had mentioned to Graham that I had some copies of landscapes in France he could use for reference,” I cover this time, sending Graham the nodding message. 

“You two know the current rules regarding house guests. If it weren’t for the circumstances I would pay it no mind, but I suppose I am grateful it was a Bridgerton at our house. It could have been a far worse member of the ton”. 

“We promise, Mama, it shan’t happen again,” Graham replies. 

“For your sakes, I’d hope not,” she says as she begins walking away. 

“I take it that went well,” Graham walks closer to me. 

“Our conversation with Mama? It could have gone worse I suppose,” I shrug, watching Mama walk further away. 

“No, the conversation she interrupted”. 

“As if you did not overhear the entire thing,” I give him a suspicious look. 

“I did not! Maybe…just a bit of it,” Graham puts his hands up in defence. 

“Graham, we are not necessarily a family of good liars.”

“Quite right, Sister”. 

I look back in the direction of the staircase and replay my conversation with Benedict in my mind. Never had I imagined someone being so forthright about their feelings, though I suppose artists are known to wear their hearts on their sleeves. The thought gives me butterflies, yet they are soon sinking as I remember the context that brought on the conversation in the first place. How he can be so confident in his ability to turn our situation around is beyond me, but perhaps we shall have to wait and see. 

[shadowuponstorm]

Days Words Go Unsaid

- After an unfortunate event rattled Maverick and broke his spirit, he started isolating himself and pushing away the people that mean the most to him, including his fiancée. Little did he know, she wasn't going to give up on him that easily and neither will the others. WC: Over 2.8K

Top Gun Spoilers Included so don’t proceed if you haven’t seen it! Also please don’t repost, copy, or translate my work under any circumstances, I prefer my original work to be on just my page.

-Maverick’s POV-

“Plane’s coupling up! Plane’s coupling up!” I heard Goose shouting from behind me as I feel my body thrusting forward, the force pinning me to the panel.

“I’m pinned to the panel.” I say back to Goose in a panic as we try to keep our heads straight long enough to save ourselves.

I tried reaching for the ejection lever but I was a foot away from it, “I can’t eject.”

“3000 feet, I’ll do it,” Goose says as I give him the go ahead since he was closer and giving me the readings.

After the canopy blasted off, Goose pulled the lever to then suddenly blast towards the top and a loud crunch was heard as he made impact. I could feel my heart pound into my ears, taking over my senses before I  blasted out of the plane to parachute into the ocean.

“Goose!” I shout as I paddle over to where he landed and pulled him into my arms to hold him when I can hear a voice whispering my name.

-Y/N’s POV-

“Mav,” I whispered as I lightly run my fingers through his hair, which was drenched in sweat, “Mav, come back to me.”

Maverick’s body then jolted up as he tries to regain his bearings and get a few deep breaths in before he felt my arms wrap around him as I shush him to help him calm down.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” I whispered as I continue the routine I’ve done for what feels like the hundredth time, “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

After Maverick finally looks to be calming down, he looks up at me with so much pain & emotion in his eyes and said, “Sorry if I woke you up.”

“It doesn’t bother me to lose some sleep when it comes to you, you need me to get you anything?” I ask as Maverick shook his head, “Want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, just a regular nightmare,” Maverick responds before turning onto his side, facing his back to me before I hear him mumble, “Go back to sleep, love you.”

I didn’t go back to sleep though, I just laid there staring up at the ceiling deep in thought until I heard the soft snores cutting through the silence. The thing is, I know the nightmare that torments him night after night is about, Goose’s death from a few days ago, later today he’s to stand in front of the board of inquiry to see if they see any faults to the accident and also see Carole to give her Nick’s things. I know deeply inside that Maverick isn’t to blame for my brother’s death, but he can’t help to beat himself over the fact his best friend as well as future brother in law is dead and Carole & Bradley will have to go on with their lives without him. I let out a quiet sigh before I slowly maneuver myself out of bed to go outside to clear my head and let out the tears I don’t want my fiancé to see as I watch the sunrise shine the sky. God, I hope he knows if he needs to talk, I’m there for him. He needs me more than I need him.

Later that day

I hear the phone ring and I answer with a “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” I hear Maverick’s voice come through as I respond, “How’d it go?”

Instead of getting the full details I want to hear from him, he put it bluntly and gave me a quick, “They said I was not at fault for the accident, they’re going to clear it off my records.”

“Okay,” I said as I already knew that to then ask, “And the visit to see Carole and Bradley?”

“Listen, I have to go, but I’ll see you later tonight alright?” Maverick says as I sighed and respond, “Of course, love you.” to hear the call then end. I know that this isn’t him and that he’s rattled by what happened, I just wish he would open up to me and not let it bottle up inside of him or push me away. Before I put the phone back on the wall, I contemplate giving Carole a call and asking her how Maverick was during his visit to her, but I decide to do that later after I’ve calmed down from my frustration. He came home as if he was fine and not a single word had to be spoken.

Few days later

After that night, Top Gun wanted Maverick to stay close to the base to practice the tactics as well as get him back in the routine so he packed his duffle to stay in one of the bungalows while I stayed back to keep everything was kept clean and in order. I was watching the TV when I heard the phone ring and got up off the couch to answer it but wasn’t expecting to hear the voice on the other end.

“Tom, what’d I owe to get a call from you?” I said to the person, who is Pete’s competition for best pilot and who also caused the jet wash that would’ve killed the love of my life had it not been for my brother pulling the lever, Iceman.

“I know you’re not my biggest fan right now, but something happened today and I think you should know about it,” Iceman responded as he then sighs to say, “He lost his temper with Sun Down when he wouldn’t take a shot he clearly had. He’s really shaken up by what happened.”

“I know, but he’s currently refusing to talk to me about it. It just takes time you know?” I responded as Tom mentions, “He also quit.”

I almost dropped the phone at those three words, he quit? Pete “Maverick” Mitchell has never quit anything a day in his life, it was so unlike him.

“Oh, umm, wow,” I said as I’m in shock of what just been told before I ask, “Anything else I should know about?”

“I don’t know anything else, but I just figured you should know considering he’s your fiancé and that-,” Tom says before I interrupt with, “He needs it more than me, I know that already.”

“Actually I was going to say he should be there for you too,” Tom responds as I moved the receiver away to let out a shuttered sigh before moving it back to say, “I’m more focused on him, but thank you for telling me, Tom.”

“It’s really no problem,” Tom says and after a few moments of silence, he then chimes in with, “And call me Iceman, will you?”

I chuckle before saying, “Thought I was being respectful by saying your actual name, but alright. Do you know where I might find him?”

“He could be at the bar,” Iceman says as I thanked him again and hung up the phone to grab my car keys to go where Pete is.

After I arrived at the establishment, I walked up the stairs to then see through the glass that he was right where Iceman said he would be, with his head in his hand, and opened the door. I walked and took the seat beside him to put my hand on his shoulder and whispered, “Babe.”

“Oh hey,” Maverick whispered back as he gave me a small smile, which made me again frustrated, “What are you doing here?”

“You lost your temper at Sun Down?” I asked as he then drops his smile and says, “You’ve heard about that? Wonder who told.”

“It doesn’t matter who told, what matters is that I didn’t hear it from you myself, I had to hear it from someone else,” I whispered before adding in, “Do you know how much that bothers me?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, everything’s fine,” Maverick says as I let out a scoff and mumble, “Unbelievable.” before I get up off the seat.

Before Maverick could put a word in, I respond, “You are such a stubborn man, Pete Mitchell. You think you don’t need to be open about your feelings or else peoples’ views of you would be tainted.”

“I’m still processing from Goose’s death, you know that,” Maverick says as I let out a noise of frustration and shook my head.

“News flash Maverick, you’re not the only one who lost Goose! Yes, I know he was your best friend and like family to you, but he was my brother first. I lost one of the most important people of my life, the one who I had spent most of my childhood memories with, the one who is the reason I met an incredible guy I’m lucky to call my fiancé. Carole lost the love of her life as well the father of her beautiful boy and Bradley-” I respond before my voice started to shake, “Bradley will never remember how wonderful his father was and get to play the games fathers & sons do.”

“S-Sweetheart-,” Maverick started to stutter out before I held up my hand and said, “Don’t” to then turn around and walk out the door to drive back home, leaving him sitting there at the bar.

After I arrived home, I slammed the door behind me and slid down it, causing me to sit on the floor and sob in my hands. I should be embarrassed by what I had done, but I felt relief knowing that the emotions I was bottling up has finally come out in the open. I hope it opens Maverick’s eyes to see what his distance and isolation has been causing.

Hours later

The sun was starting to set as I watched it from my spot on the bed and I sighed as I rubbed my eyes, which I’m sure are bloodshot from crying. Maverick still hasn’t come home yet, but I know eventually he will on his own time. But what if he doesn’t? What if your outburst became too much for him? I tried to keep those thoughts from surfacing as I decided to move to the living room. On my way to the room, I glanced a look at the phone and Carole came to my mind. Right then and there, I picked it up and dialed her number. After I heard her voice come through, I broke down yet again and croaked out, “Carole?”

“Oh honey, what’s wrong?” She asked as I tried to take some deep breaths before I answered, “I messed up.” and turned my back to face the door, which I didn’t know until later on that Maverick walked in while I was talking on the phone, overhearing everything. He picked up the other phone next to him to see who I was talking to.

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Carole says before I let out a huff and respond, “I did, I definitely did and now Maverick might call off our engagement.”

“Tell me what happened,” Carole says in that calming tone she knows has helped in the past before I took in a deep breath.

“Since Nick’s death, he’s been having these nightmares and I had tried to get him to talk to me about them, but he brushed it off as something that didn’t need to be discussed. Then he wouldn’t talk to me about his visit and what the Board of Inquiry said besides the fact they said he wasn’t at fault. I tried my best to keep my frustrations at bay because I know he needs me more than I need him, but I snapped when I got a call that he lost his temper on Sun Down & quit,” I respond before I ask her the question I’ve been dreading to ask, “Should I have done something more to let him know I was there for him? Is this the day I’m going to lose him?

“Oh sweetie, no, you’re never going to lose him. He loves you too much to just cut you out of his life like this,” Carole says before she continues with, “Maybe he’s just hurting too much and didn’t want to add on to how much you’ve been hurting. He knows how much you looked up to Nick and admired him.”

“But it worries me even more seeing him beat himself up mentally over the burden he feels when he shouldn’t even be thinking like that,” I respond as I sighed and wiped the tears away again, “God, I want him back. I know he could’ve lost his life too, but I can’t help feeling scared.”

“Do you know the story about what happened before your engagement?” Carole asked as I respond, “No because apparently that was well kept secret between the two of them.”

“Maverick asked Goose for your hand in marriage and the first thing he said was, “No you may not.” Then he mentioned the typical no man would be good for my baby sister line, signaling it wasn’t a serious answer,” Carole says as I laugh a little, “Sounds like Nick for sure.”

“Before Maverick could ask him why, your brother gave one of the best response. He said “Maverick, we’ve known each other for a long time and typically, I would be put off by a guy like you dating my sister to then marry her, but this time, I’m not. You make my sister so happy that she smiles from ear to ear, she has the glow about her, and I know she does the same for you. So yes, I give you permission to ask for her hand in marriage, I ask that you promise you won’t hurt her and still treat her right,” Carole responds before we both hear the voice that is so recognizable say, “And I broke both of those promises.”

I turned around to see him standing there with the phone to his ear when I heard Carole say she was going to let us talk. I put the phone back on the wall to ask, “So you’ve been listening the whole time?” Maverick nodded his head before he walked up to me to place a hand on my face, running a thumb across my cheek to wipe the tears before putting his forehead against mine.

“I am so so sorry how I’ve been treating you, it’s not right,” Maverick whispered as I whispered back, “Pete, it’s okay.”

“No it’s not okay, I’ve been so caught up in my grief that I didn’t even think about what you were going through,” Maverick says before I see tears start falling down his cheeks, “These past days, I-I just. I can’t get the image of Goose being gone out of my head yet and it pains me every time I have that godawful nightmare, but seeing you feeling this way, oh sweetheart, I don’t want to see that sight ever again. I’m so thankful for you and everything you’ve done for me, I love you so much.”

“More than your F-14?” I ask as Maverick laughs and says, “Yes, more than my F-14. So am I forgiven?”

“Why would you be forgive if there was nothing to be forgiven for?” I ask as I place my hands on his face to say, “It’s not your fault that I yelled at you, it’s mine. I was just frustrated and needed to let it out, I should be the one who needs to be forgiven.”

“It wasn’t your fault either,” Maverick says as I smile and leaned in before whispering, “I love you too, to the stars and heavens above.”

Maverick then connects our lips together and after what seems like forever, he pulled away to ask, “Want to sit out and watch the sun finish going down?”

I nodded my head as he took my head and leaded us out to our patio, taking his seat to then pulling me into his lap and wrapping his arms around me. As we watch the colors of the sky change, I looked down at the engagement ring shining in the light and smiled as I said, “You made a really great choice.”

“I had a little bit of help,” Maverick responds as I look at him in curiosity and ask, “From who? Carole?”

“Actually..it was Goose, after I asked for his permission, he took me out to pick out the ring and he held it up, said you would love how it shined whenever the sunlight would hit it,” Maverick says before continuing with, “I like to think it matches the beauty of your heart and soul.”

“Oh Pete,” I whispered as I felt more tears coming from the sweet gesture of him and my brother, still being the team they were.

“Now come on, no more crying, I thought we moved past that,” Maverick says as I laugh and turned my attention back to the sunset, feeling my fears and worries washing away.

After a couple minutes passed by, we then watched a cardinal land on the railing of the patio and it sat there, watching the sunset with us until the stars came out. I like to think that was Goose telling us that he was okay and that he was going to always be by our sides.

[curatoroffiction]

Chaos Gremlin MC Ft. The Obey Me Cast Part 2

For part 1 of this story, please go here; link ----- Solomon arrives at the House of Lamentation and Lucifer is nowhere to be seen. Instead, he's sent Asmodeus and Satan in his stead to greet the sorcerer. "Oh Solly, it's absolutely horrible!!" Asmodeus drapes himself over Solomon's shoulders, whining. "That little gremlin destroyed my best polishes!" Solomon rubs small circles into the demon's back as he looks to Satan who is in demon form.

"Yes, they're quite quick, but once I get my hands on them, I'll be tearing them limb from limb for the damage they did to MY collection." Solomon makes a mental note that he's going to need to keep you out of Satan's clutches. A human dying to the avatar of wrath wouldn't help the exchange program. And besides, maybe if he solves this, he'll be able to prove to Lucifer that he's someone worth working with in a pact. Asmo continues mourning the beauty products and makeups that you've wasted, telling Solomon how you've used them to paint the walls and clog his tub. Satan is quiet, but when Solomon inquires to the damage you've done to his things, he loses his cool completely. "They've destroyed countless priceless books! There are some copies of those books that are the only ones left of their iterations! They've ripped multiple books to shreds, paper-mache'ing their pages as a large 'Fuck you' on my wall!" He's huffing as he can barely think straight through the bubbling rage. "They want to die. They want to die! It's the only FUCKING answer!" Satan tears off through the house again, joining the other brothers in searching for you. Asmodeus stays behind with Solomon as he slowly makes his way into the house to find all the other brothers searching for you. "They've got to have tunnels through the walls or something." Mammon gripes, glaring at the wall as Belphegor stands beside him, glaring at the floor. Belphegor was released from the attic as an attempt to solve the problem in-house. Lucifer had gotten so tired, that he 'called Belphegor home from the exchange program' in hopes that his expertise on humans might help him find you. Instead, it just gave you another victim to torment. Belphegor may have blamed humans for his family's fate, but he didn't truly hate them until he endured you. Levi's also in demon form, scouring the halls with the calculated precision of a man of war. His time as the leader of Hell's navy wasn't for nothing. He can and will find you, it's only a matter of time. At least, that's what he keeps muttering to himself. The destruction of his volumes of the limited time original "The Magical Ruri Hana: Demon Girl" editions was too much to bear. He too will have your blood. Solomon notes as he walks through the house in thought, that you've been really good at pin-pointing the exact ways to annoy and cause each brother the most grief possible. With Mammon, not only did you destroy the things he loved, you purposefully ratted him out to Lucifer and destroyed his great plots. He'd missed out on so much money because of you! He couldn't prove it was you doing it, but he knew this string of 'bad luck' didn't start until you'd come along. Beelzebub, you'd been eating his food and escaping before he could do anything about it. He knew it was you because you kept leaving him notes about how delicious it was. He'd destroyed several portions of the House of Lamentation because of this, in inconsolable rage. It's like you want to make them as angry as possible. --- Solomon reaches the room that was meant to be yours. It was destroyed repeatedly by Beelzebub, and by the time he destroyed it mid-construction from the last time he'd destroyed it, Lucifer stopped fixing it. This won't make a good area for a trap. You probably never come here. "Who have they tormented the least?" "Belphegor." "Hmm... And what have they done to him?" "He.. actually won't talk about it." Asmodeus fiddles with his own hands, looking away anxiously. "He's been... different since he came back." ".. Interesting. I'll need to go talk to Belphegor." "That might not be a good idea." "Why's that?" "Belphegor hates humans." "Maybe he hates ___ more than he hates me, and will be willing to work with me." ".. I'm not so sure." --- Belphegor glares at Solomon as he approaches. Another human. This is what humans bring. What more damage could he want to do? "Get the fuck away from me." "We have to work together to figure out how to stop ___, right?" "Not with you. Never with you." Belphegor spits the words with a sneer, only to feel a gentle hand on his shoulder. Lucifer, looking to him. Belphegor shakes Lucifer's hand off and glares at the ground. He knows what'll happen if he doesn't at least play nice. "..." Solomon decides to continue and ask his questions; "I've noticed out of all of the brothers, I can't figure out what ___ has been doing to you. Can you please tell me?" "......." Belphegor's brow furrows at the thought. Beelzebub, who has been satiated by some Hell's burgers brought by Lucifer, is no longer on a rampage. He moves to stand by his brother, resting a hand on his shoulder. This one, Belphegor doesn't shrug off. His eyes get soft looking at Beelzebub. "..." "Maybe he can help." "....." Belphegor glares at the ground. "..... They haven't done shit to me." The room pauses in surprise. Solomon looks between Belphegor and the others. What set them apart? "Didn't they do something at your request?" Satan, who is now too curious about this mystery to give into his wrath, begins the line of questioning. "... Yeah, they threw a pie at Lucifer's face." Solomon looks to Lucifer as he asks "What sets Belphegor apart from the others?" Lucifer's face flickers with an unreadable emotion. The youngest looks upset. The room is at a standstill until they hear a flickering going on from the library. Satan goes demon mode and rushes to the site. Lucifer begins spilling everything as the brothers work to fix the fire you've set in the library. How he trapped Belphegor in the attic, which inevitably leads to him spilling the beans about Lilith as he explains himself. Amidst the flames, the demon brothers have a moment of reunition, all of their baggage bubbling to the surface. And for the first time since you arrived, you come to greet the entire group. "FINALLY!" You throw your hands up in exhaustion, causing all seven of the brothers to go demon mode as they perceive you as a threat. Solomon steps between you and them, now curious as to what the hell that means. "Before you die, as I can't stop all seven of these brothers from tearing you limb from limb... Care to explain yourself, ___?" "When I got here, I met Belphegor, and he told me that no one could know he was locked up there. I figured I'd create a problem so big that they'd have to let him out, but when Lucifer let him out, he didn't tell the others! So I've been tormenting them in hopes of getting him to spill the beans!" You look quite proud of yourself. The brothers stare at you in shock. "... There would have been infinitely better ways of doing this." "And put myself at risk? Hell naw." "You're still very at risk." Lucifer's eyes narrow on you. You grin sheepishly to Solomon. "I had no magic, so I had to get creative?" Solomon sighs, shaking his head. You're too much of a handful. Still, it sounds like you prevented a bloody war, so maybe your methods had something to them. --- You were relocated to the Hall of Purgatory for the remainder of the exchange program.

[chaoticordxr]

"so, being obnoxiously wealthy and refined makes you hard to shop for as it is. Being a thousand-year-old vampire makes it a little harder," Jackie muses, smiling a bit of course, she had her own wealth, but it was different, she imagined. Thus she turns a pulls out a rectangular box, inside is a leather folder. "It's not much, but - it's just a collection of unfinished sheet music from various different composers, the original versions. not copies - so several are in fragile condition.. Thought you might like it." to elijah

" i wouldn't say obnoxiously wealthy... " he interrupted, more out of amusement than anything else. from what he gathered, she seemed to quite like the fact that he was old and, of course, the money didn't hurt. though, jackie's upbringing made it impossibly difficult to impress her with material items. it apparently made her an exceptional gift giver. elijah's fingers gently run along the pages of her gift as he observes it quietly for a moment. she'd been up to something those past few days, he just never imagined it'd be that.

" jacqueline, this is phenomenal, " he breathes out a soft laugh as he eventually manages to tear his gaze away from the folder and back to her. he sets it aside gently in favor of wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing him in closely to his chest. " thank you. i love you. " he was usually a man of more words when it came to her, but for this he kept it simple. he loved her. he was in awe of her. and he was convinced there weren't enough words in the world suitable to describe just how deep those feelings ran. instead, he leaned in to kiss her, hoping that'd do the job for him.

@insanislupus spoiling elijah rotten

[shrinrei-shashin]

The many curses, ghost stories and urban legends of Yukiko Okada

On april 8, 1986, 18 year old idol Yukiko Okada shocked the nation when she commited suicide at the height of her fame and popularity by jumping off the Sun Music building in Tokyo, Japan. The reason or reasons for her suicide are unclear, ranging from loneliness, stress, immense pressure and overwork, mental and physical health problems, a forbidden love affair and an illict pregnancy, with the most accepted theory being her unrequited love for actor Tōru Minegishi, who had rejected her. Notes were also discovered later which ended with “I wanted to see him again” and “My heart has nowhere else to go”

Whatever the case, Yukiko’s suicide caused an uproar in japanese society. Graphic scoop photographs were quickly taken of her dead body, brains strewn across the concrete, and printed in newspapers and magazines. A string of copy-cat suicides by jumping off of buildings were reported to such an extent that the term “Yukiko syndrome” or “Yukko-syndrome” was coined for the phenomenon

Yukiko’s sudden and tragic death made a massive impression on the people of Japan, and soon rumors began to spread that Yukiko’s spirit was not quite at peace...

On June 18, 1986, the Fuji TV station was flooded with telephone calls from shocked viewers who claimed they had seen Yukiko’s ghost during Akina Nakamori’s performance of “Gypsy Queen” on Yoru no Hit Studio.

Sightings of her ghost included Yukiko in a yellow dress sitting and clapping amond the audience (actually guest Yoko Nagayama), Yukiko’s upper body emerging in one of the nearby light poles (actually just shadows and light reflections), her bloodied face showing up to the left of musician Demon Kogure (in actuality blurred red roses placed on the staircase). While others say her spirit could only be seen on the live broadcast and not in the recorded video

Rumors started to spread that Yukiko’s spirit had perhaps been summoned due to the song “Gypsy Queen”, a song it was said Yukiko was originally supposed to sing but was later handed over to Akina Nakamori, who was also said to have been a rival of hers in the industry. To add insult to injury, it was alleged the song was recorded on April 8, the day Yukiko died.

The lyrics of “Gypsy Queen” does bear some eerie parallels to Yukiko’s fate:

1.   The two of us ended on page one hundred and twenty-five

 Yukiko Okada jumped off at 12:05 on April 8

2.  Halfway through our red-hot love 

 The cause of Yukiko Okada's suicide is said to be over her unhappy love for actor Toru Minegishi 

 3.  Grieving to the heavy sky casting a wine red tint on everything

Yukiko Okada commited suicide by jumping down from the 7th floor of a building (flying into the sky) and dyed the ground with (wine red) blood

4.  Sighs spill out onto my asphalt bed.

This one speaks for itself.

When Akina Nakamori three years later also attempted suicide, fortunately without success, rumors swirled that this was also the work of Yukiko Okada's angry spirit. 

Although it is worth noting that Akina on the contrary were on friendly terms with Yukiko, and even burst into tears when she heard the news of of her death death. This didn’t put a stopper to the ghost stories though, this time it was speculated Yukiko’s spirit saved her life instead 

Soon more legends about the restless spirit of Yukiko Okada appearing on programs such as "Pacific Saury no Manma" (where her ghost allegedly could be seen choking fellow idol and rival Seiko Matsuda) and "The Best Ten" quickly started to spread as well.

Another urban legend that quickly began to roam the nation, was that of the mysterious death of the man who photographed Yukiko’s dead body on the scene. It was said that the photographer even kicked her body unto her back for an even more graphic photo (this photograph is now said to be locked up along with other top secret documents in the Hochi Shimbum vault) Just one year later, the photographer died in a mysterious sauna or car accident, and people began to speak of the curse of Yukiko Okada.

This urban legend would eventually overlap with the now infamous “cursed Kleenex commercial”, which it was said this same man worked on, to the misfortune of it’s cast and crew who all allegedly went mad or died mysterious deaths (as well as anyone unfortunate or brave enough to watch it)

However, it did eventually turn out that the camera man who died in the accident and the man who photographed Yukiko’s body were two different people and the photographer is still alive and kicking to this day. That and the commercial was filmed in 1985, one year before Yukiko’s death.

The number 4 is in Japan associated with bad luck and death. Yukiko Okada is famous for being intwined with this particular number. For example, her debut was in April, she committed suicide in April, she moved out of her production dormitory on April 4, and her new condominium room was Room 402. Most notably, a photo of Yukiko was taken of her at the premiere of Rocky 4. The truly ominous part is that is was taken the evening before her death.

A spirit photograph, or psychic photograph, showing a young woman with what appears to be a giant, floating red eye to her right is said to depict Yukiko Okada the day before her death. What appears to be a giant red eye speculated to be the God of Death, ominously hoveri by her, waiting for the fatal hour it will take her soul to the spirit world. The photo turned out to actually be from a book collection of psychic photography from 1985, a whole year before Yukiko Okada killed herself.

Other sensational urban legends about Yukiko abound, like how singer and actress Erika Sawajiri is Yukiko Okada reincarnated as she was born April 8, the same day Yukiko committed suicide, as well as for her supposed love for older men, how Yukiko’s fans scooped up her brains and took them home and even ate them, how in Seiko Matsuda’s 1986 album "The Tears of the Puppet", you can hear the voice of Yukiko saying "thank you", perhaps Yukiko thanking Seiko for writing songs for her, how if you set a picture of Yukiko as your phone background you can hear her cry through the reciever, how according to a psychic a female ghost, speculated to be Yukiko, “very beautiful during her lifetime, and she was pregnant when she died, and she was very angry" haunts singer Minami Takahashi who was also born April 8, and how the japanese tv guide magazine “The Television” always poses their front page artists with a lemon as a protective charm against Yukiko’s ghost and curse.

To be honest, the whole concept of Yukiko Okada’s ghost / curse brings up mixed emotions in me. On one hand the idea of the restless, angry spirit of a beautiful girl who died tragically definitely captures one’s imagination, and it is an interesting reflection on society’s enduring fascination with celebrity, youth, tragedy, death and the paranormal, all in one package. On the other hand, the fact that the tragic death of this unhappy girl was turned into such sensational stories can be considered disrespectful, even expoitative in a way, to the memory of this talented, hardworking girl.

Akina Nakamori herself probably put it best with her response to the uproar; "Yukiko-chan is a lovely girl with a kind heart. I don't think she is like that."

Whatever your views are on the matter, what can not be denied is the massive impact Yukiko Okada’s tragic end had on Japanese society, an impact that can still be felt to this day, ghost or no ghost.

[tenebriism]

"Xingqiu," it's late, and the minute twitch in his lip presented Chongyun's inklings of bitterness — the project had gone off without a hitch, but once Chongyun reached the latter parts of his project, things... began to get awry. In his palms sat a framed exhibit, a small silver hook affixed to the back for placement, a sheen of glass covering a pressed, transparently aged, page from a long forgotten novel; Vol. 6 of the Legend of the Shattered Halberd, immortalized in a decoration.

"But you, you would understand me, wouldn't you?" The nameless thief who stole the national treasure said this to his lord. "No. No apologies necessary, for you are benevolent."

Beneath the passage, a pressed Silk Flower, still fresh, still serene.

"Happy... happy birthday. I know it is late, and - and the page is, erm, a little... crumbly. But, I have heard from the Traveler that, once, many months back, you were on the search for this novel, and had found it... after some trial and error. I found an original copy on my travels, but... it was absent a few pages. So, I wanted to... make this, instead. I hope it is to your liking."

BIRTHDAY ASK - [ X I N G Q I U ] ;; @ofhope

       Birthdays were mere BENCHMARKS to his family. Days to be used to gauge one's annual SUCCESSES and contributions, and to ensure the family REPUTATION would continue to be fed for the following months to come. Never a celebration, never a day to relax and tear oneself away from the heavy expectations that had been made RELENTLESSLY clear since birth.

                 --- and, Xingqiu, had woefully submitted himself to the family TRADITION of expecting absolutely nothing on his day of birth, beyond a few academic resources that held no RELEVANCE to his true, innermost passions and interests. It had been with a STRAINED smile that he'd taken the stack of study materials from his father, gratitude expressed and a promise sealed to make ample use of them, before he'd set them atop his desk to, hopefully, be FORGOTTEN about amidst the previous volumes of the same subject matter that he'd been gifted the year prior.

         He'd assumed that would be it. That his family would have the table set for dinner later on that evening, after business affairs had been handled, and any acknowledgement of Xingqiu's birthday would be limited to the brief, formal interaction with his father at the first sighting of the sun, like every other year.

        Even he, though -- the famed, quick witted and intelligent boy -- could be SURPRISED on occasion.

         " Ch-Chongyun . . . ! " As his much quieter, mild-mannered companion handed Xingqiu what may as well have been the equivalent of a pouch of MORA to a man fallen on hard times, those eloquently weaved, poetic words and clever responses, characteristic of Xingqiu, are nowhere to be found.

       Instead, he merely runs a palm over the protective glass layering, reading the words on the time loved page in silent awe. Beyond the gift perfectly aligning with Xingqiu's most cherished hobbies, Chongyun had taken the time and effort to go out of his way and ensure it would be PRESERVED in a manner both aesthetically satisfying and personal to the young, aspiring adventurer.

        It was HIS . . . to own, and admire, for as long as the Archons willed him to.

        He's careful as he sets it down, leaning it against something strong, sturdy, so it would not tilt over and crack, just before he does something so swift and unheard of, that anyone spectating may fear he has fallen ill. He is not one to touch, or to ENJOY being touched, but . . . something about Chongyun has always made him feel okay -- safe, comforted, like he can be HIMSELF.

        Xingqiu hugs him. Wraps his arms around him, buries his face into Chongyun's shoulder, and hugs him, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding since the moment his birthday had started.

                        " Thank you . . . this is inexplicably priceless to me, as is . . . your continued and cherished presence at my side. "

[travelbystarlight]

🍎🍌🍒🍓🔥 (love you 😊💕)

Ok but can this also count as the WIP tags since some of these are current?? lol posts under the read more bc they're kinda long lol

🍎 favorite angst quote from a wip

She still has her copy of the book. In every apartment or house she’s ever lived in it had a place on her shelf and nestled between the pages is a polaroid of the two from her senior year. Laying down on her floral bedsheets the two looked up as he held the polaroid camera up to capture both of them. If you looked closely you could see how his eyes ever so slightly were not on the camera, but on Morgan herself. From the therapeutic ST word vomit I wrote right after Vol. 2 dropped lol.

🍌 favorite funny quote from a wip

“I asked you to help me, not make it worse!” He playfully snapped back. “The way you’re coming at me feels like you’re gonna poke my eye out.” His eyes reflexively shut closed. Who would have thought that ‘mean and scary’ Eddie ’The Freak’ Munson would be so scared of a little eyeliner? What kind of metalhead punk was he? “I’m gonna if you don’t stop moving,” Morgan growled out. He looked a little pitiful to her. Eyes shut tight, a slight tear falling down his face. Oh boy, she thought before sighing. He’s so cute when he looks pathetic.

ST WIP 🍒 favorite sweet quote from a wip

“Don’t get too used to it.” She stubbed out her cigarette, almost down to the filter on the tree trunk the two currently leaned on. “Seriously man you gotta lighten up. Not like you to be moping around.” “What I can’t be multi-layered?” That received a playful punch from Morgan. Eddie laughed and flinched as the girl’s fist made contact with his arm. Eddie placed his arms up in a surrendering pose. He took another drag from his still lit cigarette. It was like flipping a switch, Morgan noted. It was like that forlorn, grumpy Eddie never existed, and standing instead was his old self, his normal happy-go-lucky self. A part of her envied him. The moment passed as his face fell slightly, not as moody as before but she could tell he was overthinking things.

You guessed it… ST WIP

🍓 favorite poetic quote from a wip

Tabitha always said that the world they would walk into would be desolate, barren without and plants or trees, but she had a habit of being wrong. Instead, their eyes were met with a world overflowing with beauty. Lush landscapes growing with life, bearing fruit. Joseph looked over to his wife and saw this world reflected in her. She looked up at him, her hand protectively clutching the swell of her stomach, her other hand intertwined with his own. He reflexively squeezed it, letting her know this was real.

A FC5 fic I abandoned a while ago but I enjoyed the writing.

🔥 wild card: dealer's choice of quote from a wip

Dana resisted her temptations and instead smirked back, trying her best to be nice. "Perhaps you have been mistaken,” she shrugged. "I'm just your simple, neighborhood con artist. Would you like to see what the cards have in store?"

You said dealers choice so you get a tiny bit of my Original story. And it’s all you’ll ever get. :)

[frogsandfries]

I was going to say something, but I'm so tired, I don't quite remember what.

I think I was going to whine about how much I wanted that dumpster fire lamp from Tumblr, but fine, if I can't have it, I'll just throw it on my tottering pile of ideas that I have that I'll probably never get around to.

I really need to figure out how to.......... something with my sketchbook. Like, this probably isn't normal, but when I'm working digitally, since I can turn layers off, I will often work like three or more projects in the same document. It's kind of vaguely a little bit like having sections in a sketchbook, or if my sketchbook was in a binder, maybe shoving similar projects into one page protector.

But then of course, shit gets even more lost and buried than it would in a sketchbook, because instead of happening to flip past it while hunting for another project or a blank page, I have to remember the project with my brain, or be willfully hunting through my digital art program files.

On the other hand, the cool thing about working digitally is, I can make copies, change colors, erase and completely redraw. If I print out sketchbook "pages", sure, I can print out my studies or mood board or whatever, maybe that's a page or two, and I can print out any tentative patterns, in the case of beadwork. I can print out sketches and linework, but when do I hit print?

I guess that's the real question. When do I hit print? And then, where do I put my work? In a binder? I guess in a binder, I could use sheet protectors, and then maybe gather up any progress? Like, going from a sketch, when I'm drawing, to linework, to color. Or inspiration for a project, an original pattern when it's ready to bead up, and then any alterations when I've beaded it?

The thing I like about sketchbooks is, they're organic. You don't really curate a sketchbook. Cutting and pasting things into a sketchbook on purpose........ feels disingenuous? My logical brain knows that a sketchbook is whatever the hell I say it is, but my gut says this is not how to make a digital sketchbook a little more analogue.

But if that's not how..... then how??

Myself, personally, if I ever end up pursuing this, a) it'll be during a depression, b) I want to do it in a spiral bind notebook. Sketchbooks tend to have nice paper that will hold up to the weight of any added media, like more paper, and I can just tear out any blank pages as the sketchbook begins to bloat.

Another idea would be, I could PoD it. This really only works for collections that I've managed to get a good bit of pieces in. I wouldn't really want to do this for a book that wouldn't have a decent enough number of pages.

Maybe trying to make my digital sketchbook more analogue and accessible to my old-school brain is a dumb idea. But really, I can't describe for you the number of ideas I've had, scrawled into my tablet and they're just gone, poof! Buried fifty documents back, never to be seen again.

Whatever. I'm going to continue weaving Eeyore. Honestly, really, I should finish the neon triangles box..... Maybe I get more pizza. I'm just about food fatigued on pizza. Burjer? But if burjer, than chimkn nugg.........I vaguely want Jimmy John's......

[daveinediting]

Facebook was kind enough to remind me of a song Linzy wrote when she was, oh... well, it was 2011 and it the second song she wrote and she was still in jr. high.

A long, long time ago.

She had already whipped out an original song once, maybe six months before. My plan was to take her through the process of writing a song without inspiration. Writing a song because you're choosing to write a song.

My wife was not a huge fan of this idea. She felt it was an awful lot of pressure since the effort would end in a live coffee house performance that was about a week away.

Me, I thought it was a perfect teaching opportunity because I'm a professional creative. It doesn't matter if I'm feeling it. I get paid to create when the job hits.

So we settled on a compromise. Linzy had a cover of one of her favorite songs ready to perform. If her second original didn't pan out for any reason, she'd perform the cover. No sweat. And, frankly, a no lose proposition.

I don't remember how the timing worked out but I'm sure we didn't do it all on the day of the performance. I know we were still working on it the day of the performance... but I'm guessing that at the very least we handled the song in two sessions, two days. The first day focused on lyrics.

So.

What's the song about?

Which immediately brought us to Step One: it doesn't matter.

Huh?

That's right. Because when you don't already know what the song's about, you don't worry. What the song's about. Instead, you focus on conjuring words and lines and ideas. In today's terms, you concern yourself with generating content. But you don't sweat how that content hangs together yet.

At the time we sat down to tackle the words, Linzy had in her possession a poem a friend of hers had written. It was a little on the dark side... but it was as good a starting point as any. Bringing us to Step Two: grab a piece of paper and a pen or pencil, sit down with the poem, and write down any impression that comes to you while you’re reading. Any impression. Nothing held back. Including questions begged by what you’re reading. Including images that are evoked. Including individual words. Phrases. Fragments. 

Anything.

The point's to generate content. And then try to make some kind of sense with that content.

Once whatever time we settled on was up, we shared our work with each other. And whatever came to mind from that presentation... well, we wrote those reactions down, too. Questions. Images. Words. Phrases. Fragments.

Anything.

Okay.

So now we've got a bunch of random content minus the original poem from where we started. Bringing us to Step Three: underline, highlight, copy down, or tear out anything that speaks to you. A word. A phrase. A fragment. An image. A question.

Anything.

Once you have that...

It's time to start.

Okay so now what's the song about?

Back to Step One.

It doesn't.

Matter.

Which brings us to Step Four: from the page of favorites you just created, what literally jumps out at you?

Fortunately, something had already jumped out. A few things, really. Which is how the verses got underway.

Now, I don't wanna give the impression these were finished verses. The idea was to create the scaffolding for a song. An outline with some of the details filled in.

With me?

So creating these verses was an exercise of grabbing elements that already spoke loudly... and putting them together in a way that made sense.

Ish.

Remember. It's just scaffolding.

Linzy did ask me what the song was gonna be about... and I told her we didn't really have to know the answer to that until we were halfway through the song.

So we continued fashioning our favorite fragments together, discovering how most of it reflected self-doubt. With that in mind, then, I suggested contrasting the verses, contrasting that self-doubt, with fragments stitched together in the chorus that reflected self-confidence.

Which is how we discovered what the song was about.

Which brings us to Step 4: Short Cuts. Or, rather, one huuuuuuuge and helpful shortcut. Which was to take the statements of self-doubt in the initial verses and flip them to statements of confidence, basically repurposing what was already written. 

It was barely a re-write, it took so little effort to accomplish.

So now.

Breathed into existence was the scaffolding of Linzy's next song lyrics with some of the details filled in.

As I said before, I'm not sure how the timing worked. At this point, I'm thinking we had a session for scaffolding. Then a session for music. Then, on the day of the live performance, I think it was all polishing, memorizing, and rehearsing.

By the end of our first session, if you haven't guessed already, the heavy lifting was already done. This song was conjured from thin air and without intention. Now, it was about something. It had a reason for being even if there was no reason other than wanting to write something.

So.

By the next session, when it was time to write the music, the music needing to be written already had a purpose. It needed, in some way, to illustrate the scaffolding of lyrics. To build on the vibe of those lyrics. And believe me. That's much easier to do than simply conjuring music from thin air.

And the words? The ones that were temp'd in?

Those words and phrases and lines changed and flexed to meet whatever the music was doing. So, in a way, the words informed the music. The music, though, also informed the words.

Most importantly, this whole creative endeavor had gained critical mass. It had velocity. It was going somewhere you could see.

And that's the point of this kind of process.

The day of the performance was still a bit of juggling all the pieces of the song. Fitting them together. Which they eventually did a little before 230 that afternoon. Then it’s practicing like crazy until 430. Jump into the shower. Get dressed. Hamburger for dinner (no cheese). At 530 we jump in the car and she works on vocals some more until we get to the gig.

Now it's 5:50ish.

Kimmer gets there a little after 615, bringing Linzy's guitar with her, so Linzy practices in the van some more, tweaking and memorizing, tweaking and memorizing, until shortly before 7.

Of course of course of course by the time she takes the stage, yeah.

She's ready.

Even though the song.

Doesn’t.

Even.

Have.

A title.

So there it is. It is possible to create without being in The Zone. The trick is to get yourself there by creating enough mass and giving the process enough momentum so that you quickly transition from creator... to editor. From writing to tweaking. From composing to re-arranging, remixing, and finessing.

And yes. Of course it would’ve been great to have more time to work on that song. But in the real world, you work with the time you have. Not what you wish you had.

In the end, the lesson I was trying to get across other than not relying on being in the Zone is this:

Creating is hard. But if you don’t worry so much about what you’re pulling from your mind and more about getting a lot out of it as quickly as possible so you can start playing with the pieces, well...

It’s can be a much less intimidating and much more rewarding process.

☺️

[fioletowa-krowa]

So I’ve had to deal with the absolute worst customer in my entire working career ever this past week. (It’s Rose at the Notre Dame university bookstore in case anyone was wondering) apologies in advance, it’s going to be long

So for this school we have two “titles” that are basically just boxes of lab equipment. There’s a lock, goggles, a lab coat, a notebook, and an access card for the online book. These are shipped as individual boxes since there’s a good amount of materials. This is different from what we usually send to stores, which would be boxes of multiple notebooks. I mention this bc the store manager, Rose made such a damned big deal about it.

So the whole ordeal started at the beginning of the month when my boss CC-ed me on an email conversation with Rose letting her know that she was going to be out of town so to contact me with any questions or requests for her order of the two bundles we had for the school. She ended the email with “hopefully things go smoothly this year” so already I have a bad feeling that this is going to be difficult.

Rose emails me to let me know that this is a time when they receive a lot of deliveries at their store (she specifically mentioned receiving football equipment in addition to books and school supplies) so she wanted to make sure that their order of nearly 1000 bundles could be split into smaller orders with only one order arriving per day to make sure that they weren’t overwhelmed at the store. A bit of an annoying request, but not impossible for us to attempt to accommodate. The only thing being that once an order leaves our warehouse we have zero control over how long it takes to deliver or when it gets delivered so I told Rose that I was putting notes on her orders so that they would hopefully ship on different days and then be delivered on different days. And she again reminded me that they needed the orders to arrive just as she specified. Okay, fine, I’m doing what I can.

Now, unfortunately, we’ve been having delays it’s getting materials and books in stock on time this season bc our printers are all short staffed and they can only print and ship so much at a time. So the bundles are already going to be a little later than expected. We had a team of people putting the boxes together at our satellite warehouse last last week so we could get them shipped out last week.

So we finally get things together and get the first order shipped out Tuesday. This first order was for 85 boxes of one title (11181) and 150 copies of the other (11171) and the manager at the satellite warehouse gets it shipped out Tuesday last week. On Wednesday I send Rose an email with the tracking information (I had to wait for our regular warehouse manager to get me the info bc the satellite manager was out all of last week after Tuesday) and at 4:56 Wednesday evening I get the following email from Rose:

“Beth, do you realize we already got three skids today? You sent a skid of 11181 when we only wanted 85 and two skids of 11171. Please do not send any more of 11181 and I will write up everything tomorrow and you can arrange a call tag to pick up the others. This is a hot mess and the paperwork the driver had was wrong and we have damaged cases as well. Way to go..........................”

So I was about to lose my mind at this. Not only was it at the end of the day, but she was incredibly rude over something that was genuinely a mistake and moreso, not my fault! The editor in charge of the projects wanted to respond to her that evening, but I told her that, quite frankly, I was off for the day and Rose didn’t deserve any of my unpaid time. Plus i wanted to hear back from the warehouse to see their end in case something happened so they sent out more than they were supposed to or if Rose was just stupid and we did what we said we would and it just wasn’t exactly what she was expecting. So the editor sent Rose a message saying that I’d get back to her in the morning with more information and I went to dinner w my parents and papa so that I wouldn’t punch a hold thru a wall in anger

So Thursday morning I get in to an email from our main warehouse manager (since the satellite manager was out the rest of the week) letting me know that we had sent three skids for the order. Because each skid holds 96 boxes. So, since the order was for 235 boxes, it physically had to ship as three skids. I was fucking giddy as I typed my response to Rose, spelling out why she received three skids and letting her know that I would be holding her remaining four orders for 150 of 11171 each until I got the go-ahead from her that she was okay with the fact that the orders would be one and a half skids each.

Well, Rose emails back that we actually sent three full skids instead of one full and two partials. She included the phrase “believe it or not, I can count” and then after reiterating how she wanted her orders sent said, “My next suggestion would be to fulfill my orders as requested going forward.” And asked if they’d be getting another order that day. So I typed up a very off-color response to her informing her how obnoxious and cunty I thought she was being and how her attitude was helping exactly zero people and quite honestly making me feel less inclined to be helpful at all. And then I typed up a nicer response and asked my boss for read it over to make sure that it was professional and appropriate. In my email i let her know that we only had the paperwork to go off of as the warehouse manager who put the shipment out was out of the office, so we legitimately did not know that she received more than what was on her order and that, no I had held her other orders to make sure that she was okay with how they were going to be shipped, but I could put them in and hopefully get the next one shipped out that day or Friday.

At that point, she got the other manager at their store involved who emailed Friday morning to ask me to confirm they’d be getting the rest of their order that day as they had students arriving on campus who would need them. I informed her that no, we hadn’t shipped anything else yet and said that it was bc our satellite warehouse was short staffed (which is essentially true. There’s one person who works in that warehouse— the manager— and he’d been out all week) so Rose jumped back in to say “Just to make certain I understand correctly, there hasn't been another order shipped since the first delivery? We need to get on the ball with this order short staffed or not folks!!”

At that point i was beyond pissed. They were asking for something above and beyond what we do normally, and we were doing everything we could to keep them placated, including shipping the rest of their orders for free, but there’s literally only so much we can do with the staff that we have. So, after venting into an empty word doc, I responded with “That is correct. We wanted to make sure that we wouldn't overwhelm you with multiple orders in a day, like you asked, and since the first shipment went out incorrectly, we wanted to be sure that it didn't happen again. Unfortunately that means that we aren't able to schedule a pickup from the shipper until Monday as it took some time to confirm that the rest of the shipments were okay to go forward per your instructions. The remaining shipments will be going out all of next week, but if you need us to send more than one order at a time, please let me know and I can coordinate with our warehouse team to make sure that happens.” (Also I’m now realizing that rose never actually confirmed that we could/should ship the rest of the orders so that’s a fun thing) as this was going on, I was trying to coordinate with our warehouse manager to see if we could get the next order out and (as my dad who works in that warehouse told me) they were basically running around asking every shipper who came by that day if they could take the order bc the store’s preferred shipper wasn’t available to pick it up. But we finally managed to get it picked up and shipped around 1 Friday afternoon

So, Rose, in all of her Karen-ness responds “In what world would it be, as the buyer, my fault for making and having confirmation of shipping directions the reason why your company has failed??” Funnily enough, that email sent me passed pissed off to just calm and I’d started typing a response when a message from my boss (who had been CC-ed on the entire conversation) popped up saying “take a minute, step away from your computer, then respond” so I laughed to myself and explained to Rose that I wasn’t trying to blame her (yes I was) but that I was only trying to explain why I was being so cautious and why there would be a gap in their shipments. Of course, then I get an email from the other store manager saying that she wished we had communicated the delay in shipments ahead of time and that if that had happened they would have been able to tell us that it mattered more that they received the boxes on time, not that they were received separately as originally requested, ending with “I would have thought this would be a logical conclusion on your part, so the mistake was mine in thinking that.”

And that’s when I realized that this manager (Becky) hadn’t been informed of everything that actually had happened and most likely just got the bitching from Rose that we’d messed up and it was all our fault that they wouldn’t be getting the boxes on time. So I got to inform her that I had told Rose immediately that we were going to be holding the remainder of her orders until we got the ok from her to ship since she’d been so upset with how the first shipment had arrived.

So once I’d gotten that all explained and smoothed out, I got an email from the freaking Macmillan rep for the area who’s been “filled in” on the situation and wanted to make sure that we were going to be able to get the store what they needed and when 🙄 and she followed up this morning to make sure that we’d done what we said. So we got the order delivered today, another one that’s either been delivered since or is being delivered tomorrow, a third that’s either tomorrow or Wednesday, and the last order that’s shipping tomorrow being delivered Wednesday or Thursday depending on shipping times.

Behind the scenes, I wasn’t aware, but my boss’s boss and his (new) boss had also been filled in about the situation and my boss had explained our half of the story, so I got a message from my boss’s boss thanking me for handling the situation and that he thought it had handled the situation well and professionally and that it was “100% the fault of an extremely difficult customer”

I’m just so Done with this and I hope to God I don’t ever have to deal with this store in the future

[reidingmelodies]

Finders Keepers

A/N:  It’s been ages since I’ve written anything, so I figured it was about time I got back into it!  Hope you enjoy, any feedback is appreciated :) Warnings: None Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.7K

“What’s wrong with you, Pretty Boy?” Morgan questioned as Spencer rushed into the BAU Tuesday morning, fingers threading through his curls and a look of pure agitation gracing his features.  As if he didn’t hear the question directed towards him, Spencer continued to storm through the room, nearly stumbling into Morgan in his quest to reach his desk.

Pupils dilating, Morgan looked towards JJ who had taken stock of the scene from her chair, brows already furrowed and legs moving to stand and head towards her fellow colleague.

Taking the lead, JJ swiftly headed to Spencer’s side, moving to place a hand on his shoulder before thinking better of it and placing both hands on the edge of his desk instead, Mama Bear instincts dialed all the way up.  “Everything okay, Spence?  You seem annoyed.”  

Morgan scoffed before thinking better of it, “I’d say he’s a bit more than annoyed, JJ”.  No sooner than the words had left his mouth he was given a swift elbow in his side from JJ and an eye roll from Spencer and all that was left for Morgan to do was raise his hands in defeat.

Sighing, Spencer turned back to his desk before mumbling a response back to them, “I’m fine, guys.  I think I lost my copy of War and Peace on the Metro this morning.  It was in my bag when I left my place, it must have fallen out when I was trying to grab my umbrella.  I thought maybe I just forgot and left it here, but apparently not”.

“You and I both know you don’t forget anything, Pretty Boy,” Morgan chimed in, visibly less tense now that he knew there wasn’t any immediate danger.

“Actually Morgan that’s not entirely true.  I have an eidetic memory which means-”

“There’s the Reid we all know and love,” JJ chuckled, heading back to her desk to get ready for the day ahead of them.  Morgan followed, leaving the bullpen in search of Garcia and Spencer sighed, trying to move past the fact that one of his favorite books was no longer in his possession.  Logically, he knew he could buy a replacement copy after work, but deep down he knew it wasn’t the same.

The words dancing across the page would be the same ones that brought him entertainment and the comfort found in familiarity throughout his life, but the book within his hands wouldn’t hold the same nostalgic memories.  He wouldn’t look down at the tattered cover and reminisce on his first jet ride with the BAU, thinking back on how he brushed his fingers against the book’s familiar spine while trying to calm his stomach filled with nervous jitters at the prospect of working with unfamiliar people.  He wouldn’t look at the dog-eared pages and remember how the words on those exact pages brought him comfort on nights he would escape to his bedroom and try to leave memories of aggressive classmates and whispering peers behind.  

Any thought of potentially buying a new copy of the book after the workday was dispelled though as Garcia called everyone into the conference room to discuss a pending case in Phoenix, no sooner followed by a “wheels up in thirty” announcement from Hotch.  Grabbing his go-bag and leaving the bullpen, Spencer filled his head with thoughts of the case, half of his brain racing ahead to connect victimology and significant locations while the other half was stuck repeating a never-ending mantra of “it’s just a book” in the back of his mind.

***

As Spencer was boarding a jet to head 468 miles north, Y/N was playing with a loose thread on her sweater, thinking about the long day of work ahead of her.  Breaking her trance, she looked up and instead glanced up at the now empty row of seats in front of her.  Her brows furrowed as she saw a book stuck in the crack between the far left seat cushion and the back of the chair, and before she knew it her curiosity overtook her.  Y/N found herself standing from the seat, travel mug and bag in tow, before reaching for the dictionary-like book that was calling to her.  The title War and Peace glared back at her, and a quick turn of the cover revealed faded words written in blue ink proclaiming that the book was the “Property of Spencer Reid”.   With the announcement of her stop blaring over the loudspeaker and the weight of someone else’s book in their hand, Y/N made a split second decision to stuff the book into her bag, leaving the Metro with not only thoughts of the upcoming workday but visions of whom the mysterious Spencer Reid could be.

The workday passed by slowly, each passing second filled with the overwhelming desire to search for Spencer Reid on Google.  By the time Y/N was on the Metro ride home, any and all motivation to search for the book’s rightful owner went out the door as her irritation grew with the rising heat of the increasingly packed subway car.  Needing a distraction, her hand reached into her bag, initially moving for her cell phone but making a last second switch as her hand brushed the spine of the book.  May as well spend my time doing something productive, she thought as she gently pulled the book out of it’s temporary home.  With a final sigh, she turned to the first page and began to read.

As Y/N was tearing through the pages of War and Peace at an alarmingly quicker rate than she anticipated that night, Spencer was filling out a WMTA lost and found form in the hopes that someone had the decency to return his book.  Knowing his luck, he assumed it was long gone and in the trash somewhere, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to make one last ditch effort at finding it.  Groaning, Spencer called it a night and went to bed, silently vowing to find his book the second he stepped foot off the BAU jet again.        

***

Six days later the BAU team landed in Quantico, making plans to head to a bar for a drink before a well deserved day off.  As designated drivers were assigned and phone calls home were made Spencer gathered his things, making a beeline to the door in the hopes of reaching the WMTA’s designated lost and found area before it closed for the night.  He was a foot away from the door before a soft hand grasped his wrist, immediately stopping him in his tracks.

“Skipping out on the bar tonight, Reid?” Emily questioned, head tilted as she noticed how frazzled her friend was.

“I’m just gonna go home and watch a bit of Dr.Who” Spencer began, desperately trying to think of something that would let him out the door without further questions.  “Speaking of Dr. Who, did you know that it was originally created to be an educational show for kids?  It’s actually really interesting-”

“Say no more, Dr. Reid,” Emily laughed, letting go of his wrist and heading back towards the others, “enjoy your night”.  Spencer tightly smiled, leaving the bullpen and making his way to downtown DC in search of his book.  An hour later and he wasn’t any closer to finding his book, ultimately giving up and heading to the bookstore to buy himself another copy.

It was at that same time JJ and Derek found themselves hysterically laughing at a corner booth in the bar, thinking about how Spencer probably missed out on meeting the love of his life that night- a woman sitting in the booth directly across from them, War and Peace open on the table in front of her and a pen and highlighter busy at work marking up post its that were being meticulously placed on the book’s pages.

***

A month and a half went by and Spencer had officially given up hope on finding his lost book.  In the six weeks since he had last seen it he refrained from reading his new copy, not willing to give up the small amount of hope he had that he would be reunited with his original book.  That evening though, as the Metro had yet another delay and the subway car continued to get hotter and hotter, he figured there was no better time than the present and pulled out his new copy of War and Peace.  A few pages in, a sudden jolt of the car made him glance up and almost immediately he locked eyes with the woman across from him.  In the span of ten seconds, his thoughts ranged from she’s beautiful to hold on- she’s holding my book and before his legs fully alerted his brain what was happening he found himself on his feet and sitting in the empty seat directly next to her.

As Spencer’s brain began to register just how bad of an idea it was to sit next to a stranger as abruptly as he just did, the woman next to him gripped her bag slightly tighter, tilting her head to the side as she peaked a look at the man next to her.

Her mouth opened to speak, but before she could do so Spencer interrupted her, desperately trying to save himself from any embarrassment her words could bring.

“That’s my book,” he bluntly stated, mentally hitting himself as he watched her adorably confused features morph into a look of defense.

“No.. that’s your book,” she pointed down to his lap, where his new copy of War and Peace was resting between his palms.

“No it’s not- well, it is but it isn’t really?” Spencer tried to explain, his face growing more and more red with each word that left his mouth.

“So it’s your book, but not your book?” She questioned, lips curling up into a slight smile as she witnessed the sweet agitation of the man in front of her.

“Yes!  I lost my book on the metro almost two months ago.  This is just my replacement copy, and I don’t know how I know, but I’m positive the book in your hands right now is the one that I lost.”  Spencer finished his spiel, watching as the woman’s eyes widened in realization and her mouth formed an “o” shape.

“You’re Spencer Reid?” she asked, and now it was his turn to play the part of the confused companion.

“I- yes? But, how do you know my name?” As soon as the question left his mouth the image of the title page of his book filled his head and all too soon he was practically yelling with joy in the poor woman’s face.  “Wait, that is my book then!  Does it say Property of Spencer Reid on the cover page?”

The woman laughed, and Spencer watched as any traces of tension left her body.  “I’m so sorry!  I found it on the Metro on my way to work, and I meant to look you up- not in a creepy way,” she continued, growing more flustered with each passing second.  “I was gonna try and find you to return it but then I started reading it and I liked it more than I thought I would and I just,” She stooped, taking a breath and giving him the most adorable set of puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen.  “I’m just really sorry, I shouldn’t have held onto it as long as I did”.  She finished, and held the book up, holding it out towards Spencer’s hands.  “I think this belongs to you”.

“It’s not a problem at all, I promise,” Spencer reassured her with a warm smile on his face, “thanks for keeping it safe”.  Something about her filled his stomach with joy, and as he looked at her he saw a similar smile mirrored back at him.  It was at that moment he knew he would do anything to keep that look of happiness on her face, stranger or not.  “You know what,” he continued, “you should keep it- finders keepers and all that”.

Y/N laughed in disbelief, immediately shaking her head and pushing the book closer to its rightful owner.  “It’s bad enough I’ve had it this long,” she admitted.  “It belongs with you”.

“At least take this one then?”  Spencer’s brain continued to be a few steps ahead of him, and before he knew it he was taking the book in the stranger’s outstretched hands and placing his new copy in her grasp.  “It looks like you still have a hundred pages or so left and I wouldn’t want to keep you from finishing it.  Besides, I definitely don’t need two copies”.

The woman smiled and gave him an enthusiastic nod, and Spencer couldn’t help but think he just made the best decision of his life.  The speaker above them announced the next stop, and with a sudden jump she left her seat, discarding the new book into her bag and turning towards Spencer on her way to the door.  “Thanks, Spencer!” she exclaimed, “maybe I’ll see you around sometime”.  Another smile was sent his way, and before he earned up the nerve to ask for her name she was gone, disappearing into a growing crowd of commuters desperate to get back to the comfort of their homes and begin the weekend ahead.

***

The following morning, Spencer found himself in his living room with a mug of coffee in his hand, completely lost in his thoughts.  He was trying to calculate the chances of seeing the mystery woman again, considering it took six weeks after losing his book to see her for the first time at all.  

He groaned, inwardly cursing himself for his lack of courage the day before and wishing he at least had a name to match to the face that wouldn’t leave his mind.  As the coffee cooled, he found his gaze wandering to the coffee table where he had laid the book and his satchel the previous night.  With a sigh, Spencer picked up the book only to notice a bright orange post-it sticking out of one of the pages.

“The strongest of all warriors are these two- time and patience” was written in loopy writing, highlighted in yellow with exactly twelve exclamation points in red ink under it.  He was a man of science, but he couldn’t help but feel as though finding one of his favorite quotes from the novel staring up at him was a sign.

As he continued to skim the pages, he found note after note filled with quotes, reactions, and doodles and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of admiration for the stranger who put them all there.  It was a book that held countless memories for Spencer, but already he could tell that this was going to be his ultimate favorite.  

Backtracking to the front page, Spencer saw his familiar scrawl had been slightly covered by a light blue post it note.  “If this book gets lost a second time I don’t want to make the same mistake as the first guy… please call Y/N at-” Spencer laughed, immediately grabbing his phone to dial the number before he has time to talk himself out of it.

As the phone began to ring, he thought about how he couldn’t picture her name being anything else.  It was as beautiful as she was, and he longed to properly meet the woman who managed to get his heart racing with just a few post-it notes.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end of his phone answered, and Spencer could immediately tell it was the same woman from the subway.

“Hi, is this Y/N?” he began, fingers nervously twiddling together.  At her hum of acknowledgement he continues, “This is Spencer, the guy who’s book you had?  I was just looking through the post-its you left behind and I love the perspective you have on the book.  Plus, it was so nice of you to even hold onto it in the first place so I was wondering if you’d wanna get coffee, maybe?  So I can say thank you for everything and talk about the book with you?”

The opposite end of the phone was silent and Spencer’s face grew red, his hands moving to his hair because how could he possibly think she wanted to meet him, she didn’t even know him and-

“I was hoping you’d find that post-it note,” she giggled, and with the sound all of Spencer’s worries completely washed away.  “Absolutely”.

***

Link to join my taglist ♡

[falcqns]

Hi i have a request like a Chris Evans x reader and like the reader clean they’re house and chris have this book that he put like important stuff and the reader put that book on their coffee table and proceed to clean and when chris got home chris took a shower and find his book and he ask the reader and the reader said it was in the coffee table but when chris check it wasn’t there and chris got all mad bc it’s important and the reader said she will buy him a new one but chris said i will never be the same or something like that and chris stormed off and a few mins the reader saw the book but dodger have it he was ripping all the pages and stuff and the reader and dodge go to the shops and buy a new book for chris and when they got home chris was already there still mad and the reader gave the book to chris and the reader say something like “I know you said its not gonna be the same but I bought you a new one bc dodge kinda uh play with it” something like that and the reader apologized you can do whatever you want there, pls end it with a happy ending thankyou!

better than the original

pairing: Chris Evans x sensitive!Reader

warnings: angst, mentions of a DDLG relationship and little space, but no actual DDLG in this one, fluff, super sensitive reader (aka me, I cry over everything)

a/n: kind of a part two to "wrong person"?? readers not little in this, but its in the same universe!

you thought he would have been appreciative of you cleaning the house while he was on set, but to your surprise, he got mad.

"where's my book?" he asked, looking around the living room, disregarding all the work you'd done.

"I'm sure it's around here somewhere." you said, helping him look for his favourite book and trying to ignore the upset feeling in your stomach at the way he ignored the clean house.

he rounded the couch, and you heard him exclaim. "oh for fucks sake." he said, before storming off towards the bedroom. you furrowed your brow and walked around the couch. you sighed when you saw Dodger chewing on it, and ripping out the pages.

"Dodger! No!" you said. you took it away from him and placed it on the counter before going after Chris.

"we can always get a new one," you offered, but you knew that was the wrong decision when Chris turned around.

"that's not the fucking point, y/n! that was my favourite book, and even if we replace it it won't be the same!" he said, and he slammed the bedroom door shut behind him.

you felt tears coming to your eyes. you were insanely sensitive, and Chris knew that. he knew better than to yell at you, because you would start crying and wouldn't stop until you he assured you over and over that you weren't in trouble, and he wasn't mad or disappointed. you understood that he was upset, but it still hurt that he got mad and yelled at you, when you clearly didn't mean it.

you walked away and back to the living room and sat back down on the couch, where you remained for the rest of the night, your tears never ceasing. you were just trying to help, and show him you could be a good girlfriend and eventually wife, but instead you made him mad, and angry at you.

you spent a cold and lonely night on the couch, shivering from the cold that the knitted blanket couldn't block out, not wanting to anger Chris any further by joining him in the nice warm bed upstairs. just the thought of the bed made you eyes well up again, wanting nothing more than to cuddle up to him.

eventually, you woke from a restless slumber, and your tears retuned when you remembered that Chris was still mad at you. you glanced over to the book that still laid chewed up on the counter, and decided to go and try to find him a new one.

you stood up and grabbed your wallet and car keys, before leaving the house with Dodger on a leash.

you drove into town and found the first bookstore you could find. you walked in, and your eyes lit up when you saw they had just gotten a new shipment of them. for $15 you could get the regular book, or for $25 you could get a signed copy with a bookmark. you thought about it for a moment, but decided to get the signed copy, even though it cost more.

you paid for the book, and made the quick drive home, hoping that the book would put Chris in a better mood, if his sleep hadn't.

but, when you walked in the door, you knew that wasn't the case. the door shut behind you, and Chris came barrelling into the room.

"where the fuck were you?" he demanded, and your eyes widened. "ive been calling your phone, only to find out that you left it here, while you left, with my dog, might I add, to god knows where! why the fuck wouldn't you tell me where you're going? do know how stupid and immature that is?" he yelled at you. you tried to will yourself not to cry, but it was useless. he stood in front of you, eyes dark and face red. to you, he looked terrifying, and you wanted nothing more for him to go back to the nice Chris you thought he was.

tears slipped down your cheeks as you handed him the bag and Dodgers leash.

"I-i'm sorry. I k-know how much that b-book meant to you, a-and I just wanted to r-replace it so y-you won't be angry w-w-ith me anymore. I-I got the s-signed one to-o. it comes w-with a book mark. here-s your d-dog." you said before running off trying not to cry even more.

you ran into the bathroom, and to the linen closet where you had your little hideout. you climbed in and shut the curtain behind you, and let the tears come. you could feel your headspace approaching but you pushed it away.

you'd upset Chris, and he probably hated you for what you did. you knew that the book you bought could never replace the original, but you thought he would have liked it. you took Dodger with you because he needed some fresh air, and he loved going into stores with you.

you just wanted to prove you could be a big girl! that's all! he was really mad at you last night, so you knew even if you were little, you wouldn't get the care that you needed, so you pushed through and remained big for him, but even that wasn't good enough.

you don't know how long you sat there and cried your little heart out, but soon you heard Chris entering the bathroom. he took a seat somewhere and started to speak to you.

"y/n, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have gotten mad at you like I did. you didn't deserve that. you worked so hard on cleaning the house and I didn't even acknowledge it because I was focused on a book. I should've let it go when it happened because its a book. I was wrong. it can be replaced. the one you got me is so much better than the other one, and I love that you got it for me. I shouldn't have yelled at you. you're insanely sensitive, and you were probably already on the verge of tears when you came in the house, and me yelling at you was not the right thing to do. I could have asked you calmly where you were going, instead of getting angry." he explained. he waited to see if you would say anything, and when you didn't, he continued speaking.

"and I'm sorry for saying that Dodger was my dog. he's not. he's ours. you take such good care of him, and I know you were only entertaining him because I was still asleep, because your such a sweet girl. I'm so sorry baby." he said. you sniffled, and slowly crawled out.

you walked over to him, tears still pouring down your face, and leaned against him. he immediately embraced you, and rubbed your back as you cried.

"I didn't mean to make you mad!" you sobbed, and Chris shook his head.

"no baby. you didn't. I could never be mad at you for something like that. you're okay. i'm not mad, i'm not disappointed. you're not a crybaby, its okay to cry." he recited like he always did, squashing all your fears before they could even enter your head. he lifted your head to look in your red and swollen eyes.

"have you stopped crying since last night?" he asked, and you shrugged your shoulders.

"n-not really." you said, and Chris sighed sadly.

"c'mon. let's go back to bed for a little, it's still early." he said, and you followed him into the bedroom.

you drifted off less than a second after your head hit the pillow, and had a peaceful sleep knowing that Chris wasn't mad at you.

[kakaxhi]

Kakashi Hatake | Just Friends

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x F!Reader Prompt: "We aren't friends and you fucking know it" Warnings: language, angst (with a happy ending!), alcohol consumption Word Count: 1.1k A/N: Am I ever going to write a full fic that isn't about Kakashi? Who knows? *reposting because I accidentally deleted the original post!

Kakashi, being one of your oldest friends, could always tell when something was off with you. The way you kept him at a distance was something he hadn't experienced often, only when he unintentionally did something to upset you. Walking to the training grounds, he couldn't help himself from thinking back to the other night. He couldn't remember much, having one too many drinks with Asuma; you and Kurenai watching along.

"Kakashi Sensei! You're late for training again!"

"Sorry, we'll be working on target practice for now."

Surprised by their sensei's lack of reasoning for being late, the kids just looked at each other in confusion. Kakashi just rested against a tree, too lost in thought to answer their questions.

-

As you returned from work later on in the late afternoon, you were surprised to see Kakashi out your apartment. The orange book shut and was put away as soon as he saw you coming closer. For the first time since you met him, you didn't want to be in his presence.

"Why are you here, Kakashi?" You barely looked up at him as you got the door open.

"One of my closest friends seems to suddenly want nothing to do with me. I'm supposed to just let her go? Did I do something to make you upset with me?"

And there is was, that one word that made your heart cave in your chest. 'Friends.' The feelings you had for the Copy Ninja was not how a friend should feel towards another.

"[Y/N]?"

A tear threatened to spill, eyes staring at the sky as you tried to control yourself. Your voice wavered as you spoke, and Kakashi hated himself more knowing you were upset over him.

"We're not friends, Kakashi."

"What?"

Sniffling, you raised your voice slightly, "You heard me. We aren't friends and you fucking know it."

Kakashi winced as the door slammed shut, staring at the wood for way too long. Something he hated even more was the sobs he could hear behind it. His hands shook as he reached to knock, but pulled away the last second. You both needed some space, and with that, he left.

-

The next few days were hell for Kakashi. Whether he was at home or on the training grounds with his students, his thoughts always traveled back to you. He missed the way you made him laugh, and the way you'd be so intrigued by the things he had to say - even if it was something casual. Or the smiles you'd give him when he was stressed, the reassuring words that everything would be okay.

But what Kakashi missed most was having you by his side.

Icha Icha didn't even seem to be enjoyable with the mood he was in. He couldn't lose someone else he cares for. If he felt miserable not talking to you for some days, he couldn't imagine how he'd feel if you walked out of his life forever.

-

The loud knock on your door startled you as you looked up from your book. Placing the bookmark between the pages, you shut the book and placed it on the table before getting up. You were surprised to see Kakashi on the other side, which you probably shouldn't have been. No one else would've knocked on your door this late at night.

"Kakashi, what- Why are you here?"

"Grab your shoes and come on, its a nice night out for a walk."

"Actually I was about to head to bed so-"

Kakashi placed a hand on your arm, "Please?"

You sighed, hating that you were unable to say no to him, "Yeah, okay. Let's go."

Silence overtook the both of you, tension building with each passing second. Kakashi's hand stayed on the back of his neck, nerves getting the better of him. You were sure you would end up walking around the entire village if you didn't speak up first, so you did exactly that.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you the other day."

"Oh, don't apologize for that. I just wish you'd talk to me instead of slamming the door in my face. I know I can be a dick sometimes but I never meant to hurt you."

You nodded, arms crossed over your chest as you tried to find the right words to say, "Things happen, Kakashi."

Kakashi hated that you hid away from him. He stopped walking, turning you to face him. His hands fell to his sides, seeing the sadness written across your features.

"That thing you said the other day, about us not being friends? You're right. Friends don't act like we do, and I'm sorry it took so long for me to come to terms with it. It's just," he sighed, "I've lost so many people. I didn't want the same thing to happen to you. The last couple of days without speaking to you fucking sucked. I don't want a lifetime of that."

You nodded, "I know, being away from you hurt like hell, but the thought of you hating me hurt worse."

Kakashi shook his head, "I could never hate you, [Y/N]. How I feel - hell, I couldn't put it into words if I tried."

You smirked, "You could try."

Kakashi just laughed, pulling you into him, "Actions speak louder then words, sweetheart."

He pulled down his mask, lips meeting yours in a sweet kiss. The shock of Kakashi finally kissing left you quickly, your hands pressed against his chest as your lips moved against his own. All the pent up tension finally left the two of you. You both only coming apart when air was needed.

"So," Kakashi softly spoke when he caught his breath, "what happens next? Are we dating now?"

Your hand gently caressed his cheek, burning the image of his mask-less face into your memory, "We can figure that all out later. Right now, I just want you to kiss me again."

Kakashi smiled, making you swoon, "I can definitely do that."

Kakashi pulled you in for another knee-buckling kiss, the rising sun's rays illuminating your features. At the moment, that didn't matter. All that mattered in that moment was the two of you, finally together.